Thought it was dead and buriedThen it woke you up last nightYou sounded so damn worriedYou've been tossing, turning, both ends burningI wanna put your mind at ease again(Make everything alright)I know it's getting underneath your skinI've tried to tell you now

Ghost of Me - Daughtry

"Happy Birthday!"

Shaton's teenage cheeks lit up with fire as she stuck her tongue out at me. Those two beautiful blue eyes pierced souls, as Brittany liked to mention. Only difference was that her eyes didn't scream anger. They whispered love and innocence. But, we were not fooled.

"Daddy, you should've gotten a strawberry cake." Rafe's face turned pale as he nodded softly.

"Well, sweetie, they ran out of strawberries." We held our breath collectively as anger struck her small 13 year old body.

She sighed a world heaving sigh and glared at the offending chocolate cake. "WHAT USE IS THE BEST BAKER IN ALL OF EUROPE IF HE CAN'T EVEN MAKE A STRAWBERRY CAKE FOR A COUPLE HUNDRED THOUSAND FRANCS! HONESTLY UNCLE ERIK, WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST KILL THAT BITCH!" Her screamed almost made poor Rene piss his pants.

I placed a weary hand on my forehead and whispered, "Cellar voice sweetie."

"FUCK HAVING A CELLAR VOICE!" She whirled around angrily, her dress hitting the table and making the cake fall on the floor. Rene eeped and mourned the loss of a perfectly good chocolate cake while his cousin screamed in my face.

"Enough..." Erik stepped in front of Shaton and grabbed her by the scruff of her neck.

"This may be your 13th birthday but you still live in this Opera House with your mother and father and me. And I will not tolerate your prima donna bitchiness. I have dealt with enough of it from Adele and her insane requests for her own way and I have had enough!" He dropped her and glared over his shoulder. "Your punishment is to clean the stage after tomorrows performance, no assistance."

Shaton's face flickered from me to Erik. "Mama! He can't make me! I refuse!" In her eyes, fucking tears. Goddamnit....

I turned my stare as cold as I could towards her and looked down my nose. "I agree and fully back this punishment. You need to understand that neither Erik or I have had easy lives. You are blessed that it is only cleaning the stage."

Rafe's arms encircled around me and I leaned my weary head back. 30 years of life. Wasted away. His lips kissed my neck gently as he attempted to calm me down. His hands found my ribbon and tugged it to let my floor length hair tumble to the ground in a wavy silky mess. The black hair I was once so proud of now tinted a dark brown.

"Rafe..."

"Mmm??"

"I miss the past..."

"I don't." He snorted as he said those two words.

"Why..?"

He shrugged and I let it drop. For now.

(Erik POV)

Christmas... 2 weeks to go.

And in my hands, lists. Of stuff. To buy. Because apparently if your name happens to be Erik Destler, The Phantom of the Fucking Opera, you need to buy things. For others.

Joy....