I woke the next morning unsure as to what I should expect, but it certainly wasn't this.

The room was covered in flowers. They were all tastefully done, in pinks, violets, and blues, soft colors. They rested in white boxes with pastel bows, or in vases. All were overflowing with petals and foliage, crowded together wherever they could be placed, dripping their colors onto the floor.

A single candle was lit beside the bed to illuminate this sight.

My lips parted in wonder as my eyes wandered about the room. The perfumes had dissolved the musty odor of the lake.

How on earth had he managed to buy all of these and bring them here? Did he have them delivered to the opera house's doorstep with a note "for O.G., place by the lake?"

It was all so silly, but I couldn't laugh. The attempt was pitiful, that he thought all the damage he had done to me, all the love I felt for another man, might be at all changed with lavish professions of love.

Then something caught my eye, on the desk. A pencil and paper, the latter upside-down. The chair was also pulled back.

Had he been watching me sleep? It wouldn't surprise me, but I shivered at the thought. And what was the paper for? Composing?

There came a knock at the door.

"Come in, Erik," I said, attempting a smile.

It opened. He was in his usual impeccable attire, his white mask glowing, but there was an indefinable something in his eyes, something I could not place... Hope? Fear?

He was holding a silver tray of breakfast: pastries, eggs, jams, all set out in an even prettier fashion than before. He set this beside me on the bed.

"Good morning," he said.

I flickered a smile, "Good morning."

"Do you like them?" he asked, gesturing to the garden.

"They're lovely."

I pushed myself upright on the pillows. He adjusted where my leg rested.

"Would you like to play music today?" he offered. "I have a wheelchair for you, if you don't want to be carried."

"You brought me a wheelchair?"

"Of course. The floors aren't made for it, but I'll help you."

"Thank you... Yes, I think I'd like to do that."

His eyes lit. "Good."

"And I want to wash my hair today."

"You could take a bath," he offered, avoiding my gaze.

"How would I manage that?"

"You would have to allow me to assist you in propping up your leg, but then I would go away until you were finished."

"But I wouldn't be decent."

"I only made a suggestion. I didn't say you had to. I agree that your modesty would be at great risk."

"I assume you don't think it matters because we are to be married," I said softly, staring down into my lap.

"It was merely a suggestion," he retorted, making an attempt to contain himself. "Are you not hungry?"

"I am, I was just waiting..." I glanced back to the desk and pointed. "What's that paper over there?"

"On the desk? Nothing," he said, without thinking.

"Did you watch me sleep?"

"No."

"Just be honest, please. I understand if you did, I do."

"But I didn't..." he sighed. "You're too curious. I'll show you the paper, will that appease you?"

"Yes."

He brought it over and placed it in my hands. I noticed his fingers twitching together at his sides.

My lips parted. "You drew me?"

"After I had brought in the flowers. But you slept longer than I thought you would."

I stared at the sketch. Two big eyes stared back at me, far bigger than my own, and perfectly parallel. He had dotted freckles over my features like how I looked in the summer. My hair was loose over my shoulders in thick curls. My lips were fuller than reality, but it didn't surprise me that he saw them that way. He had drawn only my face, my face the way he saw, in perfection and beauty.

He saw me like that... like a doll.

"Is it that terrible?" he asked.

"No... it's beautiful... Can you do everything, then?"

"Not everything."

"What don't you know?"

He thought, but was silent. I smiled gently.

"What about knitting?" I offered. "I should teach you something."

"I don't have any need of that..." He glanced away for a moment, at nothing in particular, then back at me. "I have a request to make of you."

"What is it?"

"As we have made a deal to prove I love you, and that you will marry me once your leg is healed if I do... then I would like you to wear my ring."

"No," I replied firmly. "You brought me here against my will. I refuse to wear your ring regardless of my promise to marry you."

"But we are, in a way, engaged now," he told me, his muscles taut..

"I don't care what we are; I won't wear it."

"You hate me so much as to deny placing a simple piece of jewelry on your finger-"

"Why shouldn't I hate you?" I snapped. "Why don't I hate you? It makes no sense! I ought to. You've done so many terrible things, among those murder! Why don't I hate you?"

"I don't quite understand what your question is. Are you asking yourself or me?"

"I don't know... I don't know anything anymore..." I inhaled shakily, swallowing back tears. "I wish you were just evil sometimes. I wish you were just cruel and despicable without reason, but you're not. You taught me. You gave me a friend to confide in- a lie, but a friend. And I honestly believe now that all you want is to love me but I don't think you can."

"And why not?"

"If you loved me, you would promise no more murders, no more tormenting, no more manipulation and lies, but time and again, you either avoided the question or told me no."

"You don't understand, my Christine-"

"I'm not yours. Don't call me that. I'm not yours. If I marry you, you can call me anything you like, as I imagine I'll just be a plaything at that point, but not now. Now I'm myself."

His eyes burned and his fist trembled at his side, "A plaything? You think you're nothing more than a doll to me? Would I give a doll all of me? Does a doll have a heart and a voice? No! How dare you think such a thing? When have I ever shown I would treat you in such a vile fashion?"

"You brought me down here and played with me like a toy!"

"When?"

"The first time! I wasn't myself, you had me drugged with your voice, and you touched me without asking, lied to me still, though I could see you through my clouded vision. And you treated me worse when you abducted me from Perros! You threatened to leave me in darkness and you were cruel, like I had no feelings, like I shouldn't be able to love whomever I want! Like I'm nothing more than something for you to possess!"

I was breathing heavily with emotion, and then I broke, crying into my folded arms. Erik stood beside me, bewildered. He let me cry for quite some time, and I heard him pacing. Then he came back to my side, silent for a moment.

"What else was I to do?" he whispered.

I glanced up at him, my vision fogged with tears.

His voice crackled as he spoke, "What else was I to do? I love you. And you tore me apart when you said you loved him, until I didn't know what to do! And then you were injured because of it... because of me."

We stared at each other in wonder at this new knowledge, this new confidence, then he promptly left, slamming the door behind himself.

I glanced over at my breakfast. Could I trust him with my heart, when he had done so much harm to it already? What should I do? What was there to do?!

How pitifully he had said the words, "What else was I to do?" He didn't know anything about love whatsoever, and was blindly trying to achieve it, in the most terrible ways he could go about it. But how could I simply forgive him now?

There was no returning to Raoul. I would cut him out of me and I would show Erik how to love me, and if he wouldn't, if he truly was cruel and wretched, then I would find a way to escape him.

I had to know if he was capable of love.

When he returned, he had reverted back to stoicism, having revealed far too much of himself. He brought me over to the organ in a wheelchair, which was a relief from behind carried around like an infant.

"What are we going to play?" I asked.

"You should be standing to sing," he said, "but this will have to do... We're going to play some simpler pieces, as your voice needs to warm up from lack of use."

"Do you have a favorite piece?"

He hesitated, "My own, of course."

"It's so dark, though. It's incredible, but dark."

"Life is dark."

"Not all of it."

"Perhaps for you... The story of my opera is not the vital essence, as operatic stories are mostly foolish and lavish. The music is the primary element. It tells the true story beneath the surface, and mine is about human nature, the desire to destroy the innocent and seek out only one's own wants, which is dark, but innate."

"Do you speak from experience?" I asked softly.

He refused my gaze, "Let's play music-"

"But were you-?"

"Sing, Christine."

I ceased fighting him shortly after that. It seemed to always come to nothing, and I began to truly feel the weight of Raoul's place in my heart. The empty hole filled with lead, dragging me down day after day, until I barely spoke, and Erik began to show concern after only a week. He had ignored my sadness, as he seemed to believe ignoring a thing could make it vanish. But it was there, and worsened.

One morning he came in and found me all curled up over my abdomen.

"Are you ill?" He asked.

I shook my head, my features hard.

"What's wrong?"

"It's my time is all..."

"Does it hurt that terribly?"

I glared at him, "Why am I in this position if it doesn't hurt?"

"I have some medicine for headaches, perhaps that would work."

"Once it hurt so terribly I had to take laudanum..." I blushed. "I shouldn't be speaking about this with you, it's not proper."

"I don't care."

"It's terrible this time, normally it's not this bad... I-I think medicine would be good."

"And do you want breakfast?"

"Maybe a little, something plain."

His eyes suddenly lit. "Medicine and breakfast, and I'll bring a surprise for you."

I sighed, the corners of my mouth lifting, "Chocolates, I expect..."

"No, not chocolates, something better."

When he returned, he had a tonic for me, which I downed eagerly. Then he gave me a tartine for breakfast.

"What type of jam is this?" I asked.

"Try it."

"Is it poison?"

"Why would I poison you?"

I smiled gently, "It was a joke..." I took a bite, and my eyes lit. "Where... did you find lingonberry jam? I've been searching for it for years."

"You're actually happy with this?" He said, genuinely surprised.

"Yes, thank you. That was sweet of you... Come here, please, come sit with me."

He sat down gingerly at the edge of the bed, as if astonished by his good fortune.

"I've changed my mind," I told him after a moment of hesitation.

"About what, my dear?"

"About wearing your ring."

He turned to me in wonder. "You would wear it?"

"But I need your apology, your sincere apology, for all that you've done to me."

"I regret what you've been put through. There was little else to be done in my circumstance."

"Little else? You're sorry for what's happened to me due to you, aren't you?"

His malformed lips parted, "Yes... I regret that very much. You should have been given deep respect and gentle care, and were not afforded that."

"I suppose that's good enough..." I sighed, extending my hand out to him.

His mouth fell open in surprise. He slid a silver and black ring off his finger and onto mine. His eyes gleamed at the sight, and he caressed the stone.

I pulled away my hand, examining it. "Where is this from?"

"It was a gift," he said softly, still staring at it in wonder.

"A gift?"

"From China."

"You've been to China?"

"Only for a short while... a few months..."

"It's beautiful... though rather... unusual for an engagement ring."

"I could buy you a normal one," he said swiftly, eager to please me. "Perhaps a diamond set with gold? Silver?"

"I like this one..."

I began to cry.