Raoul dragged me to the carriage. I struggled and cried the entire way, trying to get away from him.

"Christine!" he finally shouted. We were outside of the carriage and he was trying to get me to step into it. He took a hold of my shoulders and shook me roughly. "Stop it, Christine!"

All I could think of was the look in Erik's eyes as I tried to get Raoul away from him. Such cold bitterness! I knew he had to be thinking that I had betrayed him, yet again. I had just been so afraid that he would kill Raoul for challenging him! And Raoul did not have a chance against Erik. Whatever I thought about Raoul, he was still my childhood friend, and I knew he loved me. I would not be responsible for his death!

I slumped in Raoul's arms and he lifted me into the carriage. I huddled against the soft seat, silent tears rolling down my cheeks. With a shudder I remembered the icy fury in Erik's voice as he shouted at me not to leave, and the deadly seriousness in his voice as he declared war upon Raoul and me. What would happen now? What would he do next?

"Christine, you must stay away from that monster," Raoul said sternly. "He is driving you to madness, darling."

I looked up at him and narrowed my eyes angrily.

"What else could it be but madness that would draw you to him, time after time?" Raoul asked gently, taking my hand. I yanked it away from him.

He sighed and looked out the window. "Christine, there is just one week until the opening of Don Juan. Then we will capture your Angel of Music and be rid of him, once and for all. Until then, I am not letting you out of my sight."

"But…" I said.

"No. No protests, Christine," Raoul said firmly. "I will not risk anything else happening. You will stay with me, where it is safe, and I will entreat Claudia to stay with you at all times. I do not want you to be alone at all until this Phantom is caught. He is clearly insane, darling."

I stared at Raoul in disbelief. I knew he thought he was doing what was best, but what he was doing was no different that what Erik had done, and I told him so.

"No, Christine," he said with a tired sigh. "It is not the same. I am doing this to protect you, not to twist your mind to my desires."

I pressed my lips together, fighting the angry words that were about to bubble up. I could see by the stubborn set of his chin that Raoul was not about to back off, and I was weary of fighting. I sank back into the seat and closed my eyes, but all I could see was the look in Erik's eyes.

X

I refused to come out of my room for Raoul's party. I imagine he made some excuse or another, that I was feeling ill or something of the like. It was highly doubtful that he would tell them that I had gone mad, which is what I was sure he believed.

I decided to leave, to go back to the Opera House and talk to Erik, somehow. I made it to the stairs before I realised that Raoul had a maid stationed at the end of the stairs to watch me and make sure I did not leave.

Frustrated, I went back into my room. I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes against the ache that was forming behind my eyes. I felt utterly exhausted and completely drained of energy.

I had no idea what would happen now. I could see that Raoul was not going give me any chance to return to Erik, and deep inside of me I feared that Erik could never forgive me for this last incident.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Deep inside the catacombs beneath the Opera House I willingly gave in to the madness that had been threatening since I had first laid eyes on Christine Daae.

I composed music with an overwhelming intensity. The music was hard, cruel and unforgiving. As is life, I thought cynically.

I lost myself in dark thoughts of revenge against Christine and her arrogant lover. Where once the thought of losing her had filled me with despair, the thought now filled me with an uncontrollable rage that ate at me constantly.

I had foolishly broken my most vital rule. I had fallen in love. For years I had not allowed myself to feel. I knew I was destined to spend my life alone and I had kept my emotions under a tight rein. I was cold, detached, allowing myself to feel only anger. Love, pain…those were feelings best ignored. And so I had thought myself incapable of love.

That had changed with Christine. There had been times I thought I could have killed her, such as when she had removed my mask. But her voice, her beauty and her charming naiveté had awoken feelings that had been dormant for longer than I cared to remember.

I was used to anger. It was a feeling that I could embrace, like an old friend. And Christine had angered me. I was not thinking about what the consequences would be of my actions; my only thought was that I refused to lose her. She would pay, and pay dearly, for her deceitful ways.

And I knew exactly what to do.

I sent word to Charles, another traitor, but a useful one, detailing purchases I needed made before the opening of Don Juan. When I met him at the Rue Scribe entrance two days before the opening, he was carrying several large bundles.

"Monsieur!" he said as I appeared from the shadows. "Does this mean what I think it means?"

"Indeed, Charles. It would seem that way." I said dryly.

"Oh, Monsieur, I am so happy, so very happy!" he gushed.

Impatiently I paid him for the purchases, as well as a large salary for his quick service. As I took the packages and disappeared through the Rue Scribe entrance I heard Charles call after me.

"God bless you, Monsieur, and congratulations," he said.

I resolutely ignored the guilty feeling his words evoked as I carried my packages down to my chambers. I took them into Christine's room and dropped them on the bed, trying not to notice that the scent of Christine's perfume still lingered in the air.

One by one I opened the packages. A myriad of emotions crept up, including that wretched feeling of guilt, but I shoved them back down and focused on only one, safe, emotion. Anger. I gladly allowed it to consume me.

I opened the first package and I caressed the fine white silk as I slid the wedding dress onto a hanger and hung it in the wardrobe. I placed the veil on the dressing table, the shoes on the floor and put the bouquet of white silk roses on the dressing table beside the veil. I smiled coldly as I pocketed the last item, a small, black velvet box.

With one last, grim look around the room I walked out and shut the door behind me. It seemed that everything was ready.