Authors note:
Thank you for your reviews, I appreciate them.
Also, I do not own any characters thus far. They belong to a combined effort of Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber.
We ended with:"I need some air, Erik, take me somewhere outdoors."
And so we continue...
Erik's anger was far from dissipating and hearing Christine's command did not make it any easier to get a hold of his temper.
Through clenched teeth he said, "I have already offered to take you back to the dormitories, perhaps from there you could find your own way outside?"
"Your precious little Victome would be waiting on you hand and foot on your arrival no doubt?" He added.
Christine found her own temper rising. "He is not MY precious Victome. We were childhood friends, Erik."
"Sweethearts," Erik interjected.
"How can ten year olds be sweethearts Erik? They know nothing of love. I dare say you know nothing of love either."
Erik took the insult straight to heart. He was shocked by her sudden forwardness and assertiveness. Was it my appearance or is it the diva coming out of her? He wondered.
"Well I must admit you are most probably right, Christine. How could a man with half a face who has been shunned from the world expect to experience such pure feelings? The world has shown no compassion to me Christine. Count your blessings."
"Don't tell me to count my blessings!" She shouted.
"Don't scream, you'll ruin your voice. A bounteous blessing I would say. No?"
"And what would you call your musical abilities? Curses?"
"Curses indeed. The worse thing you can do to a man, Christine, is give him talents he cannot use. It is the greatest slap in the face. It's like being born with a perfect voice and then gagged your whole life. What a waste."
"You haven't wasted your musicality Erik, you have produced some extraordinary work." Christine softened at the thought of the great many gifts Erik had been blessed with, and all the work he had produced in such a small space of time with herself as his muse.
"Which will never be heard."
"Says who?"
"Says the world, Christine. Who is going to listen to an anonymous composer, let alone a sickly masked genius?"
"Your work will stand for itself. And I thought that Phantom persona of yours was doing just fine getting what he wanted so far?"
"And we all know living our life by proxy is oh so fulfilling."
"Says the man who has willingly barred himself from the world and caged HIMSELF up like an animal." She was drawing closer now as she emphasised her words.
"That is because the world has MADE me an animal," Erik boomed. "Do NOT speak to me of cages, Christine, until you have truly lived in one."
"The opera's a prison."
"If this is a prison to you, Christine, count yourself lucky."
There was no warmth left in the man, and Christine now felt even more ill, compounded by her empty stomach. Her stomach grumbled, as if on cue, drawing attention away from their argument towards the even harder and plainer facts of life- hunger.
Hoping to have the last say, Christine concluded, "Life is what you make of it Erik, and you can have my help if you want it." With that she turned on her heels and made her way back to the bedroom.