Christmas Eve came, and Christine felt her spirits rise minimally. Mrs. de Chagny was leaving the day after Christmas, and Christine had been counting down the days. There were only two more—two more. Then she would be freed from the discomfort. She would go back to the guest bedroom and not feel guilty every time Raoul touched her under the sheets.

She made a vow to herself. After the holidays were through, she would go out and find a job. She would work as hard and as long as she could, and she would take all the money back to the Phantom. Even though the thought of him still chilled her, he had told her to do that. That meant that he could find her father. The police contacted them less and less frequently. Her father was disappearing. She would work as long as she had to. Until her father was found, there was hope that he was still out there. He was waiting for someone to find him, because he somehow couldn't get back by himself.

Incredibly, that thought cheered her a little, and added to her small happiness at the thought of Raoul's mother leaving, she felt rather good Christmas Eve. The skies were darkly overcast. It was going to snow tonight, and tomorrow would be a white Christmas. She had bought a present for her father, and she couldn't wait to give it to him when they were reunited.

The only thing that dampened her mood was when Mrs. de Chagny subtly ordered her out of the kitchen. Christine had been trying to help. She had always considered herself an above-average cook (years of practice from caring and cooking for her father), but from the way Mrs. de Chagny looked at the food she was preparing, Christine had felt all confidence in her cooking skills evaporate.

"Go ahead and relax with Raoul, sweetheart," Mrs. de Chagny said lightly, taking away the cutting board and knife from Christine. "I'll finish this up."

Raoul was watching a game, and Christine sat by him dejectedly. He half-consciously put his arm around her and pulled her closer, his eyes fixed intently on the game. She wasn't that interested, but she wouldn't say anything to him. He was always watching things he didn't want to watch just for her. She had a penchant for old musical movies, and he had silently suffered through such classics as Singing in the Rain and The Music Man and Carousel. Their tastes in music were very different as well. She liked listening to the soundtracks of such movies, as well as popular operas and classical composers such as Chopin and Debussy and Schumann. He enjoyed popular music, but he was nice and always resisted complaining whenever she listened to her music.

"Do you want to watch something else?" he then asked distractedly, as if he could read her thoughts.

"No, this is fine," she said softly. He was dressed nicely in dark jeans and a red polo, and she wanted to snuggle up next to him, but she could hear Mrs. de Chagny still clattering around in the kitchen, so she contented herself with leaning her head against his shoulder.

After a few minutes, she craned her head to look up at him.

"I'm going to Mass tonight," she said. "It's something me and my father always did on Christmas Eve. If that's okay."

"Of course it's okay," he said, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the game after a moment. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, you should stay here…with your mom." She glanced around to the kitchen. Mrs. de Chagny was busily working, looking appropriately festive in her dark green cardigan and cream sweater. Christine glanced down at her old jeans and faded purple shirt, feeling a little embarrassed.

Raoul said, "We're going to Mass tomorrow morning—so you're welcome to come if you don't get enough tonight."

"Yeah, heh." She cleared her throat. "I might stay for both services. I'm not sure…" The church she attended held two services on Christmas Eve—one at ten o' clock for the parents with small children and one at midnight for those who were able to stay up later.

"Okay," he said, looking back to the game. "Just let me know either way so I don't worry."

After a rather awkward dinner, Christine went and put on one of her nicer dresses (Raoul had taken her to her apartment a few weeks ago so she could get the rest of her clothes) and made up her face a little. Raoul had tried to insist on driving her, but she wouldn't let him. Finally, Mrs. de Chagny had snapped,

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Raoul, let her take the bus if she wants. You'd probably get stuck in traffic."

Clutching her coat around her tightly and crushing her small purse in her hand, she said goodbye to Raoul, awkwardly dodged his farewell kiss, and darted out of the door, feeling a little relief when she was at last away from the concerned gaze of Raoul and the occasional blank glances from Mrs. de Chagny. She tried not to think of her or Raoul anymore. She wanted to focus on her Father in Heaven as well as her Pappa tonight. She would pray for him and reverently celebrate the birth of her Savior.

She was outside and nearly at the end of the block when she touched her neck and realized that she had forgotten to clasp the gold cross necklace on in her haste to get away and get to Mass. She stopped short and had a small panic attack, wondering if she should go back and get it but then telling herself she shouldn't. She actually turned back and forth several times before huffing and throwing up her hands in defeat, trudging back to Raoul's apartment. It had started to snow lightly, and she brushed the flakes from her hair and face when she entered the building.

It was warm and the entire place smelled like Christmas. She climbed the stairs to the second floor, listening to the gentle murmur of conversation as people talked to their families and loved ones. She knew she was going to be a little embarrassed attending the Christmas Mass all by herself, but she wanted to do it for her father. He would be there with her in spirit.

As she rummaged in her purse for the spare key Raoul had given her, she paused for a moment. She could hear some of the conversation drifting out of his door, and, feeling a little silly, she pressed her ear against the crack.

"…just wish she had let me drive her," she heard Raoul say. The television was turned down to a low murmur, and she had to listen very carefully. Their voices were quiet and muffled, but she could hear what was being said. They were speaking in French, and she was suddenly grateful that she spoke French as well.

"Don't worry so much about her," his mother said. "You're running yourself ragged trying to care for her. I don't even understand why…"

She heard Raoul sigh a little, and she imagined him rubbing his face, as he often did when he was agitated. "Mom, do you have to talk about this now? Come on. It's Christmas."

"Well, when else am I going to be alone with you?" she sniffed. "That girl doesn't leave you alone. If you're not at work, she's with you wherever you go. I'm surprised she didn't ask you to go with her to Mass tonight."

"Christine just really needs support right now," Raoul said. "She's still really mixed up about the whole thing that happened with her dad."

"Well, I don't see why you have to be the one bending over backwards to try to help her. She has a lot of baggage, and you don't need that, especially not now—not with your promotion coming up." There was a gentle rhythmic clinking, and after a second Christine realized that Mrs. de Chagny was tapping her nails against a hard surface.

"She's my girlfriend," Raoul said stiffly. "That's why I'm doing it."

"But darling," Mrs. de Chagny said sweetly. "I just don't understand. Really, I don't. This girl has got nothing going for her—just out of high school, really, and she's not even going to college! She has no job, no family…She's living here on your dime. It just doesn't make sense to me, sweetie."

"I like Christine," Raoul said. "What more is there to get?"

"Yes, but you've liked other, better girls before. Remember Sarah? That nice girl you dated a few years ago? We adored her! She was beautiful, and she was going to Princeton. I mean, darling, come on, be serious now."

"She was boring," said Raoul. "I didn't like her that much."

"Oh, and Christine is more interesting than someone going to one of the top universities in the nation?" Mrs. de Chagny suddenly snapped. "She's got the personality of a piece of paper, Raoul. Now I know this might hurt your feelings, but I just want what's best for you. You know that, right? Listen to your maman."

"What have you got against Christine, anyway?" Raoul said, his voice just as curt as his mother's. "Look, she's here on my dime, like you said. It's my money that I've earned. It's not your business how I spend it. Christine needs someone to help her out right now."

"She'll always need someone to help her out!" Mrs. de Chagny said. "Why do you think she's dating you, Raoul? Hmm? Why do you really think she's with you? Honestly, I can't believe how someone like you could fall into that silly girl's trap so easily! I thought we raised you better than this!"

"Just stop it, Mom," Raoul said sharply.

"No, I don't get it!" Mrs. de Chagny pressed angrily. "You're twenty-five, Raoul! It's time you stopped playing around and settled down! You're wasting your time with this girl—and your playtime is over! I'm sure she was pretty and fun in bed, but there are thousands of other girls better at everything than she. I have twenty friends in my phone contacts that all have daughters whom you would just love, I know it. They're all beautiful and smart, unlike your silly Christine."

"Stop it!" Raoul repeated angrily. "Mom, come on!"

"No!" Mrs. de Chagny said. "You need to get married, Raoul, and I will not have my grandchildren coming from that stupid, pathetic little Swede!"

Christine couldn't listen anymore. She stumbled blindly down the hallway and nearly broke her neck trying to get down the stairs in her short heels. The doorman asked if she was all right, and she nodded blankly as she stepped back out into the Christmas Eve night. It was snowing harder now, and she turned down a street and simply began to walk.

The words she had heard burned her insides, but it somehow left her feeling colder than before. Her eyes were stinging, and tears steadily dripped out and onto the sidewalks. She sniffled and wiped at her face with her shaking fingers.

It was all true—everything Mrs. de Chagny had said about her. Every unkind word was true. Raoul deserved someone ten times prettier and smarter than she was. However, she knew that she wasn't dating Raoul for his money—she knew she did like him as a person—but still…the wealth did nothing but help his appeal.

All the store displays were lit up in festive decorations, signs proudly and crookedly telling her to have a MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR! She looked away from them, feeling the florescent glow of the buzzing signs warm her cheek. A few cars passed her, but the streets were empty, and she walked with her head downcast, huddled in her coat against the snow and light winds.

Mrs. de Chagny was right. She needed to get away from Raoul. She was all wrong for him. He deserved someone his family adored, someone he could rely on—not someone he had to constantly take care of like a child. And she was! She knew she was still a little girl. She couldn't be Raoul's equal. She couldn't talk about complicated politics or finances or sports or any of the other things he enjoyed. She hadn't even known about any promotion—he hadn't told her about it, probably presuming that she wouldn't understand it. She couldn't even sleep with him because it scared her too much. The most she could do was kiss and cuddle—and little children did that as well. She hadn't ever done an adult thing in her entire life. She had gone through high school quietly, never drawing any attention to herself. The bravest thing she did was audition for the choir, and when she made it, she sat silently in the soprano section as the other couple girls chatted all class about boys and parties. Christine had never gone to a teenage party, had never tasted alcohol, and had never tried a cigarette or done drugs. She hadn't even kissed anyone before she had started dating Raoul. She had run home to her father every day after school, not wanting to be around other people longer than absolutely necessary.

Her feet began to ache slightly from walking in her heels, and her exposed shins were freezing. Christine looked up and saw that she had walked the several blocks to the park she and her father had used to sing in. It had been instinctual—as if his violin music had been carried on the snow, enticing her to their special spot.

It was completely empty. She looked around and saw that no one wanted to be out in the weather. They were all bundled up together, excited for Christmas morning. She felt horribly alone and sick, and she wandered off the path a little, looking for a sheltered spot so she could sob in peace.

The dead twigs and sticks scratched her face a little as she pushed he way through, but she eventually found a very small grove that was somewhat sheltered. The dead brown grass didn't have any snow dusting it, and she gingerly sat down, feeling the cold earth shoot all over her frame. She drew her knees to her chest, buried her face in them, and began to sob. She leaned against the trunk of the tree and cried and cried, hating herself and the mess she had gotten herself into. She cried for her father, she cried for Raoul, and she cried for herself—because she hadn't been able to do anything, in the end. She had tried so hard, but it hadn't amounted to anything.

For several long minutes, she prayed, begging God to listen to her, to help her in any way that He could, but when she paused to look up, the pathway of the park was still empty, it was still snowing, and she still felt worse than ever before.

She rubbed her legs for a few moments, trying to warm them, and she sniffled and wiped her tears on her coat sleeve, whimpering and hiccoughing. When she sat up straight, she took in a deep breath, tried to regain her senses, and broke down into more tears. Nothing had changed. She was still in the same situation, and yet she didn't have the courage to get out of it. If she broke up with Raoul, that meant that she would truly be alone. The thought was awful. But staying with him was awful as well. She hated Mrs. de Chagny more than she had ever hated anyone, and she whispered mean things into her knees. Then she cried and begged God to forgive her for the cruel things she had said.

Something buzzed near her, and she looked and realized that her phone had gone off. Still choking on pathetic sobs, she pulled it out and saw that Raoul had texted her.

Hey! Guess you decided to stay for the midnight service. Merry Christmas! Come home as soon as you're done, k? Call me if you need a ride. Miss you.

She gave an angry cry and tossed the phone aside. It landed near the edge of her protected glade, and she sobbed angrily as well as miserably. Why would he lie to her like that? Was he making fun of her? Was he sitting there with his mother, planning the best way to tell her that she needed to move out as soon as she could? Well, she would beat them to the punch! She wouldn't let them push her around anymore. She would go right up to him and tell him that—

"You're that girl."

Christine gasped, and her head shot up. Her vision was still blurry with tears, and it was very dark, but the dim lamps of the park illuminated a tall man in front of her. He was looking down at her curiously, his face buried in shadows, too dark for her to see.

"You're that singing girl."

Singing girl? Yes…she used to sing here…with her father…who was gone. Christine shuddered on her tears and ignored him.

"What are you doing out here in this weather? It will damage your voice."

She put her face back between her knees so she wouldn't have to see that man anymore.

"Go away," she cried. "Leave me alone."

There was a long pause, and suddenly the man said, as if he had just realized something, "I remember. You are that girl. Your father was taken."

"Please go away," she whispered weakly, humiliated, defeated. Couldn't she just cry in peace? Was she not allowed to be sad like other people?

When she looked up to ensure that the man was gone, she was startled to see that he had not moved. She curled closer to the tree, as if it would come to life and protect her.

"Go away," she repeated. "Please!"

To her horror, the man reached out an arm, and she saw long, spindly fingers stretch out toward her. She looked up and saw that the man's face was reflecting the dim light of the lamps. He was wearing a mask. She knew who this man was.

And she started to scream.

She screamed and shrieked, covering her face with her arms, terrified. He was back to kill her! He had tracked her down, and he was following through on his threat! Christine nearly tore her throat she was screaming so loudly. She needed someone—anyone—to hear her. Please! Please, someone…!

"Miss? Miss?"

Christine peeked between her fingers, nearly blinded as a bright light was shined in her eye. She blinked and put a hand out to shade her vision.

A policeman knelt down beside her, concern written across his broad features.

"Miss, are you okay? What are you doing out here?"

Christine looked around wildly. "There was a man!" she cried hoarsely. "A man was going to kill me!"

The policeman stood up and looked around suspiciously, a hand on the gun at his hip, but after a minute, he knelt back down.

"There's no one here now, Miss. He must have run off. Can you describe him to me?"

Christine shook her head. "I didn't see his face—he wore a mask," she said hysterically. "He was going to kill me! I know he was!"

"You're fine now," the policeman said. "I'm here to protect you." He looked around again. "What are you doing out here alone so late at night?"

Christine gulped down more sobs and wiped away her fast-falling tears with her fingertips. "I was just…" she whispered. "I was…going to go to Mass…and I…got lost."

"Do you live around here?" the policeman asked. "I can walk you home."

Christine almost nodded, but then she opened her mouth and said, "No. I live down in the east side."

"All the way over there?" He looked worried. "Did you walk here, Miss? Are you feeling okay? Can you see me?"

"I'm fine," she said. "I just want to go home now…"

"All right. Let me get a car for you…" The man pushed his walkie-talkie up close to his mouth and told the person on the other side that he had a girl here who needed a car to get home. Christine grabbed her purse, crawled over for her phone, and then stood up, brushing the dead grass off of her dress. She took in a shuddering breath, looking around. It was still snowing, and she shivered insanely. There was no one in sight—the Phantom must have run off, like the policeman said.

"Come on. I'll walk you to the road."

She followed the policeman silently, grateful for his concern. When she looked at her phone, she realized that it was nearing one in the morning. Raoul was probably sleeping peacefully, unconcerned about her, confident that she would come back to him.

A police car was waiting for them, and the officer opened it up. She thanked him very sincerely, nearly in tears again at his care, and then she slid into the blissfully-warm, leathery-smelling interior of the small police car. It drove off, and the officer driving talked to her quietly for a while, asking normal questions like, What do you do? How's your family? And so on. She answered them normally. She was going to college…her father was fine…She didn't want to tell anyone else. She didn't want to become a burden to yet another person.

The policeman dropped her off outside her old apartment building, and she thanked him and ran inside. It was a little chillier than was comfortable, but she welcomed the creaky staircases and chipped walls. This was her home. This was where she and her Pappa lived.

Digging out her key that she never removed from her purse, she unlocked the door easily and was met with a blast of cold, musty air. She flipped on all the lights, took off her shoes, and spent the next hour cleaning the grimy, dusty apartment. She kept her father's door shut, though. She wasn't ready to look inside.

Then she realized that her clothes were still at Raoul's. So she got into bed in her dress, stared at the wall, and fell deeply asleep.