Don't own the songs the lyrics or the characters

Chapter 10 – Giving In

Erik

Entry 5

I have sat for some time now trying to put some kind of order to my thoughts.

What could have possibly possessed me to have done what I did?

But no answer has presented itself, so all I can do is go through the events step by step.

I returned to Christine's dressing room, hiding myself once again behind the heavy mirror as she walked from behind the changing screen at the far end of the room.

By breath caught sharp in the back of my throat, she looked more like an angel than ever before, standing in the room dressed in white with her dark hair falling unhindered down her back.

I would not lose her.

Not to that Vicomte, nor to some yet unknown man.

The anger exploded within me at the thought of that boy taking my Christine, my angel away from me after all of these years. I would no longer have a reason to live, no one to care for whether I appeared every day or not. I let all my frustration and anger find its way out of me, as I roared my feelings.

"Insolent boy! This slave of fashion."

I could not keep the words at bay as they spilled forth, my voice filling the silent room.

I watched her through the mirror as she made for the door of the room, I could not have her discovering that it was locked. I panicked slightly, the feeling making my voice sound rougher and more furious; this made her stop as she glanced fitfully about the room. Her gaze fearful.

She thought I was angry with her.

How could she possibly think that?

Her next words proved me right.

"Angel my soul was weak, forgive me..." Her soft, frightened voice drifted to me behind the mirror as she settled on looking at the ceiling.

She wanted my forgiveness, but I was not angry at her, she had done nothing to warrant my anger. It was him, that boy whom I was angry at and I immediately felt guilty over giving into my feeling concerning her and the boy and letting them show.

I once again felt that overwhelming urge to take her in my arms and this time, I do not know why, I gave into the temptation.

How could I?

How could I do the one thing that I had sworn never to do?

I cannot believe my own actions even as I sit here writing them.

I beckoned her with my voice towards the mirror, as I activated the spring that pushed the glass of the mirror into the wall allowing passage into the tunnel.

She continued towards me, the mirror no longer between us.

My heart was filled with happiness. For here I was, standing in the same room as my angel, my love, and nothing was between us, no glass, no wall, no curtains or even a great distance like when I watched her in rehearsal. It was indeed a heady feeling.

Her eyes never left me as she continued towards me, even as the joy filled me I was waiting for her to begin screaming, branding me an imposter.

I stretched out my hand towards her, praying with all of my being that now that I had finally revealed myself to her she would not turn me away. I could live with anyone's rejection but hers, never Christine's.

I could hardly breathe when her small hand reached towards my own leather clad one; she hesitated a little-yes now it would surely come. The scream.

Frantic thoughts leapt through my frozen my mind.

Please do not let me see that look of disgust, of hate, please Lord no, not from this girl please, anyone else but not her.

Her gaze ran from our hovering hands to my face and her eyes met mine.

Her eyes were shining with wonder and happiness as she gazed into my own for what seemed like an age.

Then I felt it.

Her small, fragile hand slipped itself into mine.

Grasping it firmly I took the opportunity not wanting to risk her changing her mind and I lead her through the corridors.

She began to sing one of the many songs that the chorus girl had made up of the Opera Ghost, but I did not recognise it as such to begin with.

"In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came..."

I could have lost myself easily in her voice as it clearly filled the passage where we walked; I knew why she was singing. She had no words to express herself with and the song was the only way she could communicate.

I held back a flinch when I heard her mention the Phantom.

She had guessed.

I could no longer continue to lie to her; she knew who I was, so I joined her in the song, modifying the words to match my own feelings and experiences.

We continued the journey down to my home, Christine never taking her eyes from me as we went from dry ground and into the gondola to carry us to my home. Still I waited for the rejection. Even now I cannot believe that she did not go running from me in horror as I carried her deeper into the bowels of the earth.

The gate at the entrance to the cavern raised itself as the boat caught the underwater latch, in turn making the underwater candelabra rise to the surface, the candles lighting as if by magic.

I pulled the boat up along the shore of my home and jumped from the vessel, turning to face Christine.

I could not believe that she was here in my home, with me.

I stood and watched her for a few seconds still waiting for the inevitable; she would scream and run away. There was no doubt in my mind on that score. It was just a matter of when.

But in the mean time she was here with me and she was staring at me as though I was the only man in the world.

I let the joy and happiness of having her with me fill my body spreading through my blood stream till I was drunk on the knowledge.

I approached her slowly, taking of my cloak as I walked towards her.

I found myself in the same position that she had been in; I had no idea how to voice my feelings. My thoughts.

So I let music and song do it for me.

I began to softly sing to her as I helped her from the boat.

"Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendour..." I sang of my life, the darkness that I lived in, that I hated as a child but now I loved, for she was my light.

Christine took her eyes from me to look towards the entrance.

No, I did not want her to take her gaze from me. That innocent thought filled look.

I reached out and gently turned her chin so that she was facing me again, I immediately felt a peace come over me as her eyes once again rested upon me. I smiled slowly at her, the happiness that I felt needing some kind of release.

I continued to sing as I lead her up the stairs towards my organ, I let go of her as I spread my arms wide taking in all of our surroundings. All of my home.

I circled her slowly, her eyes never leaving mine.

And then, I do not know what came over me, I reached for her slight frame and placed my hands around her waist. She was so small and fragile in my arms. I was intoxicated by the feel of her against me, (I thought I reached heaven when she had accepted my hand in the dressing room, I was wrong). I drew her closer to me, drawing her to my chest as I traced her arms down to her small hands.

I still cannot believe what I did next, but then again I did do a lot of things that night that I promised myself I never would.

Taking her hand in mine I drew it up to my face, to touch it to my unmasked cheek. The feel of her skin on mine was heaven as she caressed my face, she slowly turned in the circle of my arms and I led her onwards, asking her to trust me.

I drew her towards the alcove in the wall, which I had carefully hidden with a cloth. I had seen her eyes linger over it when we had arrived so I decided to show her.

I drew the curtain open, revealing what was hidden.

A wedding dress.

I had rescued it from one of the older productions before the wardrobe mistress got hold of it to turn it into scrap.

So now it stood in my home, hidden behind the curtain, for once I had rescued it I had no idea what to do with it.

Christine stiffened slightly in my hold, and I felt her body go slack and I caught her in my arms as she slumped against me.

I can still remember the feel of her against me as I carried her to my bed and placed her in it. Her beautiful face was soft in the candle light as it played across her features.

My heart swelled at seeing her in my home.

She had not shrunk from me.

I touched my hand to my face, to where her own slim fingers had touched me.

After taking one more long look at my sleeping angel I went to my organ and freeing myself of my dress jacket, tie and gloves began playing, a soft, slow song that filled the air.

I stopped playing as my mind began to race with thoughts.

What would she do upon waking?

In the light of day things would appear clearer, things that seemed mysterious showing for the cheap tricks that they really were.

And what of my mask?

She had made no attempts to remove it, and my Christine was not one to be satisfied with half truths.

What could I do?

My thoughts spun out of control as every different scenario played itself through in my mind. Each one ending with her tearing the mask from my face, and seeing her soft eyes fill with horror and revulsion.

I do not know how it happened but I found myself standing over Christine as she slept the thoughts calming slightly at seeing her sleeping figure.

I could not stand being rejected by her – after all was not that the reason I began this journal, to voice my feelings without actually revealing myself to her, and then of course I did so anyway.

I cursed the appearance of that boy.

If he had never came I would not have even thought of showing myself to Christine.

I crouched by the side of the bed, daring to reach out my hand and trace my fingers down the side of her face, her skin soft against my now bare hands. My heart leapt in my chest as she leaned into my touch.

No I could never live through her rejection.

Hours passed and Christine continued to sleep, I was not worried for I knew that after her performance and then the shock of seeing me she would be exhausted.

I spent the time working on my score for Don Juan, some of the dark and brooding songs of love and despair taking on more promising lyrics within my mind.

I heard movement behind me and I stopped playing.

I slowly turned, not wanting to see any of the possibilities that my mind had ran through.

But I saw none of my imaginings.

Christine stood at the opposite end of my home, looking awe-struck at me, her eyes bright with sleepiness and her hair no longer even hanging onto the pretence of being tamed but curling wildly around her face and down her back. She looked beautiful.

That most definitely had not been one of my possibilities. I had imagined running, screaming, crying, shouting...

She began to walk towards me, and I had no idea what to do, what to say, how to act.

So I did the only thing I was entirely sure of.

I turned back to my organ and began to play were I had abruptly left off.

The music, normally able to soothe me did nothing for my racing heart beat as I waited for her to reach me.

I felt her behind me as she stood silently.

Still no screaming.

Then she moved.

Yes, now she would name me imposter, now she would fly into a rage.

I tensed as her small hand came to rest on my shoulder, her touch like that of a butterfly.

I broke of playing as her hand moved up from my shoulder to my face, her fingers danced around my eyes, my nose, my mask, my eyes closed against my will. No one had ever before touched my face willingly and yet she was, with no prompting from me. I lost myself in her gentle touch, never wanting the sensation to end.

Suddenly her fingers were no longer on my face and I felt the loss of her touch.

I opened my eyes to find myself looking straight into hers.

She took in a deep, shaky breath. Now she would turn away from me.

"You are real." she whispered to me softly. An amazed smile of happiness playing on her face.

What?

That had not been one of my imagined possibilities.

Ok, so what do you think?

I think I did a wee bit too much rambling, but then he is a bit confused himself so it might not be as bad as I think it is.

Let me know what you think

[Once again thanks so much for the reviews :-)]