Hehe... yay for a day of doing nothing! I believe this would be my last non-busy day of the summer *score!* because I'll be camping on wednesday, and I'll try to write as much as I can for the next chapter but I'm afraid I'll be busy with entertaining a guest at the same time. After then I'll be preparing for a master class and then going to a flute camp... soo, I'll be writing every night after then. I'm not even halfway finished with this story, so it's intimidating to finish it before school starts again... well, anyway, that's my two cents.
I noticed a lag in reviews, which is okay considering everyone except for myself is most likely on vacation currently, and also declining hit numbers going down the list. Well, I'm not blaming you, but if you are reading this, I'd like it very much for you to review and tell me what you think. Thanks to the one person who did review, debkay, and I appreciate my usual reviewers as well.

READ AND REVIEW

~The Phantom's Flutist~

Chapter 8:

Rejection and Promises

The next few moments were spent in silence until the food came around to our table. I thanked the waitress as she walked off, and looked to Erik who looked at his food as if it was a fine specimen. He actually picked up his fork and knife and lifted his mask up slightly to reveal his thin lips, and swallowed the food, and I stood stupidly watching.

"Have you ever been to an opera, Christine?" He asked cutting another piece of food as I mimicked him and took the first bite of the delectable lasagna.

"My dad took me... once." I replied, swallowing the bite.

"Do you remember which one you saw?" He asked, not bothering to take another bite of his own dish.

"Don Giovanni, I think." I answered, taking another eager bite at my dish. He nodded thoughtfully. "Is that what we are going to do tonight? See an opera?" I asked eagerly.

"You guessed correctly," this time I saw him smile, with those thin lips, and it was absolutely beautiful to see after I saw him cry with the same look.

"Exciting," I replied, making myself sound as pleased as I felt.

"I'm glad you're excited," he replied, "The company that is in it is renown for their excellence which might be very enjoyable. But we'll see, won't we?" He was trying to be very conversational, but I couldn't bring myself to even starting it.

"I guess." I replied, letting my head fall, and ate another bite once more.

He was silent once more, and took a sip of his wine with one elegant hand and I watched that hand as if it was telling me to watch. For some odd reason, it still astounded me how graceful he was... almost as if he was a ghost. I ate the rest of my meal silently and finished off my tea, once finished I looked up to find Erik's meal only half finished, with his mask covering his mouth once more.

"I believe we should be on our way," Erik suddenly said and placed many twenty-dollar bills on the table and rose from his seat across from me, and I rose at the same time, and followed him out of the restaurant without waiting for the waitress.

He grabbed my hand again, as if I was going to run away, which, all-in-all is not a bad idea, quite frankly. I would but where would I go to? I guess it was best if he only held my hand instead of anywhere else, but I felt like I was his child or something and he pulling me along. The black car was waiting for us once more outside the restaurant with Thomas leaning against it, and opened the door for me politely once more, and we were inside. Erik seemed to be anxious yet without showing it.

"What opera are we seeing?" I asked.

"I intended on most of this being a surprise, but if you insist..." He teased looking out the window once more.

"No, I'll wait." I pressed seeing that he wanted me to be surprised. I might as well play along with it. I gave him a reassuring nod when he looked over, smiling lightly.

It wasn't until a few blocks later when we stopped at a grand-looking building that had elegant designs, and was evidently an Opera House. He helped me out of the car and outside onto the sidewalk, but we didn't enter through the front door.

Suddenly aware that we were heading somewhere else, I looked around and then spoke up to Erik, "Where are we going?" I asked.

"We are going through the back for obvious reasons."

"You didn't mind before now," I pressed angrily as he pulled me along.

"I happen to have a reputation here that might not peacefully be acknowledged." He answered calmly.

"Like what?" I asked impatiently.

"That sort of thing can be explained once we get inside," he answered, and opened some sort of door to the side next to the parking garage that was placed next to the theater, though people were not here yet so there was no cars except for a few parked there, and we got inside of the door easily. He led me through a dimly lit hallway and then through another door that led to a large marble staircase. We eventually came to a row of boxes that overlook the entire house, and we stopped at the fifth one closest to the stage. He let me into the box and then followed me, leaving the door open.

It was decorated elegantly, with red velvet flooring and chairs, with a marble railing crossing the front. I never exactly been in a box at an opera house, but it was a cozy place that had a beyond-excellent view of the stage. I wasn't able to feel the least bit comfortable not knowing what, exactly, his reputation was. I sat onto the comfortable chair and was handed a playbill.

"I thought you may want to look through this with your interest in playbills." He explained, sitting right next to me, looking at it over my shoulder. I was reminded of his stalking behind me for all these years and with enough knowledge that I collected playbills when I lived with my father from people or from plays or musicals that I've seen, including some operas that my father's colleagues went to.

I read the title on the front, Madame Butterfly, which was an opera that usually came to the opera house my father and I went to, but we never got a chance to see it.

When I opened to the first page I saw him from my peripheral vision reading over the cast list, and then I heard him grunt.

"What is it?" I asked curiously.

"The leading soprano isn't the best, but she's fine... The entire purpose of this was to inspire you to sing this music, and she is not the best outlet of success."

"Then why is she in the opera?"

"Because her father has money," He said simply, "Of course, I do, as well, but all the money in the world would have this company let go of their 'dazzling star.'" He said coldly, this time not about me which was okay, I guess.

People started filling the seats below us in the house, their conversing voices echoing up to where we sat and I watched curiously, and then resided reading the synopsis of the opera before the curtain finally fell.

The music was stunning and elegant, with hints of American tunes in the music which I thought was very interesting considering it was Italian. I thought, to say the least, the leading baritone was very good, and I was only able to judge because when one could hear Erik, all the other voices are imperfect in their own ways. The music was entrancing, but not quite as beautiful as when Erik plays it, of course.

I stayed interested for the entire opera, keeping my eyes glued to the stage, watching the performers sing. He was about right, I was somewhat inspired but only because I wanted to be them... I wanted to sing and have applause, and it was what my father wanted, what I've always wanted. I didn't want to be stuck with Erik forever and waiting until he has my voice as perfectioned as he implies every lesson. The opera left me, until the final applause, having me rise out of my chair and applauding to tears as Butterfly blindfolded her child, and then pressing a knife into her chest. It was dramatic, and the actress pulled it off so powerfully. I wiped the tears, before the lights blared so that Erik would see.

I turned to Erik who was standing out of his chair, looking slightly perturbed.

"That was really good!" I commented.

"Could have been better, but yes, very good." He replied dryly.

"Just because nobody else can pull off perfect music to the point of unreal beauty, doesn't mean it wasn't matching up to fulfilling standards," I disagreed, arching a brow to him, waiting for his reply.

"We will continue this conversation in the car, but first we need to get out. I would like to get out of here before the crowds do without taking a back way if you don't mind."

I didn't answer to that and followed him out just when a few people began filing out of their boxes. I was gripped by Erik's hand to my wrist, and I was almost dragged because I could not walk out fast enough, not letting me take in any sort of granduer of the Opera House. We were walking out to the sidewalks in front of it, deserted from the lateness of the night.

"Christine!" I heard my name across the room, and I cranned back my head to see Raoul, surprisingly, standing next to his brother.

"Oh, my God..." I whispered beneath my breath. This was my chance, of course! "Raoul!" I screamed, now literally being dragged, and I was leaning against Erik's pull on my wrist. Leaning so far I almost fell to the ground, but he still had a good grasp on my wrist so I could not move. "Raoul, oh God!" I screamed as he ran over. Finally, Erik turned around, realizing the situation, and he let go of my wrist letting me fall to the ground which hurt. "Help me! Please!" I couldn't help but scream, neither of them seemed to notice. I got up quickly from the ground, wiping myself off of the dirt from my now stained white dress.

Erik was looking at Raoul with a murderous glare and for the slightest moment I thought he might just kill him.

"Let go of her!" Raoul said rebelliously, with as much strength of a five-year-old compared to Erik.

"She's mine!" Erik snarled, and launched himself at Raoul, grabbing his neck.

"No!" I screamed and ran over, my vision becoming blurred and panicked. "Erik, let go! Let go!" I screeched, tugging at his coat, pulling with all my strength but there was no such luck. "We can go! Come on! Just let go of him! He didn't do anything!" I screamed.

Raoul fell to the ground, and got up, enough to reach for my hand, and I tried to reach it, but missed entirely when Erik began to drag me away by both of my wrists into one handed grasp. I had to run once more, looking back to Raoul helplessly standing there, calling my name and crying as I did.

Before I knew it, I was literally thrown into the car, and I leaned my head back onto the seat, sobbing and scared half-to-death of what Erik did... he intended on killing Raoul! I sobbed into my hand now so Erik wouldn't see my distorted face.

"We were having a perfectly fine time until he showed up," Erik hissed from the other side of the car. I remained silent, wanting to shout a million things at him, but only coming out as another moan. "Hush, darling..." He tried to soothe me, his hand outstretched to touch me, but I saw it before it did, and leaned away as far as I could for him not to. "I wasn't going to kill him," he responded to my thoughts, which was an utter lie.

"Yes, you were!" I screamed at him, wanting to slap him so hard, but how would I do so with a mask in my way? I don't believe it would have the same effect... "You were, you were, you were!" I hissed, receiving a glare from Thomas in warning to shut up. I didn't listen... Erik needed to listen to me! "Don't lie to me! I saw what you did, I saw what you look like! What you said! How could you not want to kill him!?"

He didn't answer, and looked to me painfully, he reached his hand out once more, shaking. "Don't you touch me!" I hissed, leaning away, panicked once more. I heard an angry snarl from the other side as I turned my head, and went on sobbing into my hand which later turned into my arms.

The remaining car ride was silent except for my soft sobs, out of panic and anger. I had not a chance against Erik. He could harm Raoul again if I pull something more off! I was lucky he didn't already!

Once we stepped inside of the house a half hour later Erik ordered me to instantly go to my room.

"I was already going!" I shouted back at him and stomped away up the staircase and into my room. I changed quickly and leaped into bed, and screamed into my pillow, trying to muffle it as much as I could so Erik wouldn't come dashing up the stairs to think I just killed something.

I cried myself to a deep sleep, with no dreams, and an uncomfortable outlook upon my future.

I awoke very late in the morning to find myself still laying there after an hour of being awake, looking to the ceiling and dreaming of disappearing. I didn't want to read, I didn't want to move, I only wanted to nail myself to this bed and stare at something until I disappeared from the earth. How can my life get any worse? All... I wanted... was a home to call mine until I was able to leave, and to live comfortably in. Is that too much to ask? How could God mistake that only request? He stripped me of my parents, of a home, of any sort of family I could hope of, and now gave to me a man who was broken and slightly off of his rocker and says he loves me so much to the point that I wonder upon my own sanity if I spent too long with him. I could cry for Erik, I could cry for myself... I only pitied Erik, there was nothing there... It was understandable why he acts the way he does for he didn't have a good enough mother to pat her son's head and say "I love you." It was understandable that he never had someone on his shoulder telling him "no" because of his brilliant mind, but God was pushing buttons on me of restricting me by using this man.

Well, what was supposed to come from it? A hint of insanity? A slap on the face for something I did to deserve this? The only problem is, I didn't do anything. I was a good little Catholic girl, praying my prayers every night, going to mass when instructed, and I had such a firm faith in my religion, and I still do. It's just maddening trying to find out the answer to this situation.

A knock was heard on my door, and I didn't bother to move my dry and cracked lips to say anything.

"Christine?" Erik's voice asked from the other side. "You can't ignore me forever... it's noon..." He pressed firmly.

I didn't answer, staring at the door just waiting for him to barge in and invade my privacy once more. I felt shredded and tattered and broken and there was nothing there to piece me back up again like Raoul was. No glue is left because I've been broken too many times. It looks like I ran out.

"Answer me," He pressed, and opened the door slowly, to reveal half of his mask peering through to me. I stared at him dully, letting more tears drip down my face.

"Christine, please don't cry anymore, you know I hate to see you cry." He whispered, coming closer which was the first time I moved, almost sliding off the edge of my bed. "All I want is to see you smiling again. Just like you used to..." I didn't answer to that unreasonable statement, once again, pinning my lips together firmly. "And when I saw you smile to your father I saw how much you adored him with all your heart, and now I want you back... I want the real Christine back..."

I rolled over to my other side, digging my head into the pillow.

"She's gone," I murmured into the pillow, which he possibly did not hear.

"I could make you happy again, Christine, I could give you the world and my unending love," He said quietly. "Fear can turn to love," he sounded as if he was reassuring himself. That makes no sense...

"I love you so much..." He added with an imploring tone. "I could take you to the opera any time you want, and perhaps one day you may audition for a role. I'd give you the best education in the subject. Anything you want."

"I want to leave," I replied sourly.

"You haven't began to see what I can do for you," He pressed.

"You said that days ago, and-"

"I can't let you go," He replied before I finished. "If you could have an open mind..."

"What do you think I had when I came here, Erik? Then what did you do, you took my original freedom away and then didn't let me see Raoul just for once and in peace and you scared the crap out of me and now you're asking for me to stay here... just think about it for a second and listen to me for once!"

"Give me another chance, Christine, just once more... I can make you happy, just wait!" He rebelled, grabbing my hand, and placed it near his lips, lifting up his mask a little, and kissed my hand.

I glared, sitting up straight and taking my hand away from his grasp. "As long as you promise not to harm Raoul ever... he means no harm at all..." I whispered.

"I promise," He replied, kissing my hand again and I didn't want to smack him away, so I only stared at his grotesque lips pressing to my skin, and pressed my hand onto the cheek of his mask and once more, I didn't have the right heart to pull away for he was desperate... not one person has ever been so desperate for my affection, it's so... weird.

He stood up from the bed and outstretched his hand elegantly, dropping it as if just remembering. "Come, we need to catch up with our lesson," He offered, I stood on my bed looking at him, just waiting until his bravado wore off. "Waiting for it does your voice no justice, come, Christine. I'm not going to harm you."

I blinked at him, "I know that."

"Will you follow me, then? Please?" He was pleading again, and I wanted to turn away, and scream at him to stop doing that because or else I think I may go insane. I slowly put my feet onto the ground and began to walk over to him who held open the door, waiting patiently.

Today in my lessons, I finally reached a high C, and for the first time he complimented me during a lesson, and moved on as if it never happened, though I got even more difficult music. I think the only times where I was most at peace was during my lessons, for music was always my scape goat, leading me to believe I am where the music takes me either beside my father or beside my Raoul. It hurt, yes, but put emotion into my singing for once, and I couldn't believe it was my own voice, that somehow Erik was manipulating me to sing these lovely notes. But how is that possible?

"You're getting better, darling." He commented with a light tone. Don't call me darling, I thought in my head, rolling my eyes behind his back and sighing. He shut the piano lid and then turned to face me. "It won't be much longer before you're ready to perform."

"I suppose..." I whispered, shaking my head, looking down to my hands.

"Your father would be very proud," He tried to reassure me.

"I know, but..." I curled my hands up, "It could be really nerve-wracking, you know? Like... always cautious of what peoply say and it effects your career... like you with that Carlotta who was performing yesterday."

"No, you see, you don't pay attention to them. My opinion matters but... Christine, you're stronger than that. I know you can do well, you just need to feel good about it and sing like you do for me. Understand? Don't be nervous just yet." He explained reassuring me, trying to get into my gaze to look right at me.

I smiled a little, for it was something to feel okay about, to think about performing again made my heart take a few leaps in the air. And to have the greatest musican I'm yet to meet tell me such things was good, I suppose, though he may be...

"Isn't that a little biased?"

"I don't think so," He replied assuringly. "As long as you have my power you'd be starring in whatever you put your mind to."

"Erik, don't do that..." I replied glaring, "That's not fair."

"Of course not, dear," he replied, though I don't think he was listening as he stood up, filing the music away into another messy stack.

"My father would like my singing maybe, but definitely not being pushed forth," I begrudged.

"I won't push you to anything," he promised quietly, "I'd already know that you'd be wanting it."

"How do you know I'd want it, though?" I hissed, losing patience for everything he said now was wrong.

"We'll get into this concept later. I trust you're hungry," he went around it, of course, and I only nodded slowly, trying to calm myself and followed him out as he shut the light off.