Last chapter was a surprise, was it not? Erik has his reasons, anyway... I think it'd be awesome to write Erik's point of view for this story because there's still so much unsaid about their relationship, I just dunno if I could actually write for Erik, I'd probably /have/ to have Erik's insane voice whispering in my ear the entire time and my family might think me kind of strange for those months when I attempt to do so. Anyway, give your opinions on that and the following chapter.

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~The Phantom's Flutist~

Chapter 14:

Surprised

I awoke laying on my bed, though something in the back of my mind knew that Erik was sitting right there waiting for me to wake up, so I went on pretending to be sleeping, petrified to face him again. It went on like that for only possibly a few seconds until I heard a sigh and then, "open your eyes, Christine."

I did so, in fear he may touch me to try to get me up, and I definitely didn't want that. Not again... I shuddered at the memory of his lips touching mine-those dead lips- and I felt sick to my stomach. I was utterly grateful to be in the constraining wedding dress, though it was extremely uncomfortable to be laying down in. My muscles ached and felt like gelatin from trying to hold myself up the entire "ceremony," and I was slightly dizzied, but not so much that I couldn't see Erik sitting across the room with a different mask now... instead of a full black mask, it was now white and it didn't cover the entirety of his face, instead, his mouth and chin was exposed which was not so horrible as the rest of his face, I'd consider it fine enough... But I just wondered of the sudden change... and glared when I thought of the possibilities.

"We are married now... Erik has a bride..." It sounded partial to disbelief and something like ecstasy.

I didn't say anything, not exactly knowing what to say to someone who just forcefully married you, except to stare coldly. It wouldn't begin with words of affection and loyalty, because if I ever uttered them in any sort of way I might just jump out of the window right now, dress and all, and run.

"I can't believe you!" I seethed coldly, getting up from the bed, reaching for my pillow and threw it at him and he dodged it easily. "You jerk! How could you do this to me!?"

He didn't have an answer to that, of course, I mean how could he? I let out a disgruntled groan, and went on with throwing more pillows at him, except he got there quicker than I, holding my arm down just as I grabbed the pillow, suddenly right in front of me.

"Let go of me!" I hissed, trying to get out of his bony touch. "Don't touch me! Don't even think about it! I hate you! I hate you so much! You exist only to make my life hell and don't even think of replying to that because I. Don't. Want. to. Listen!" I screamed at him, trying hard to twist out of his stronghold on my arm, but he never seemed to let go.

"I will never let go of you." he said simply, yet heartfelt, and dropped my arm angrily.

That was disheartening. I sank down to the bed and pulled my head into my arms and went on to sob, feeling extremely emptied.

"No... No, please don't cry... I'll be so good to you, don't cry..." He pleaded quietly, grabbing my arms away from my face. "I told you before I can make you very happy, happier than you've ever been before, and I'll have the world on their feet with the glory of your voice. Oh, we could indeed be very happy together... if you just open your eyes, my love, Christine... I'll love you forever and a day... if you could just see..."

"Stop! Don't promise me this! Don't promise me things that is impossible to happen!" I rebelled, looking to his eyes that obviously didn't want to hear that.

"You haven't even began to see! So much more than what that boy could give you." He replied, losing patience clearly. "If you could... just give at least a few words of care and affection... for once... if you were... to only be friendly, you would just make me the happiest man alive, and I would make you just as happy as I! If only for a while... Could... You? Just find it somewhere... I love you so, Christine... Could you?" By the end of his plea, his voice was even more pitiful. I shook my head and took in a deep sigh, looking to his eyes, something I should never have done.

"Maybe," was my reply, trying to bury my head in my arms again, but he held my arms firmly but with a gentle touch this time.

"Don't hide your face from me... I want to see it, let me see." He whispered delicately, and I looked to his careful eyes, touching me like I might break like a shard of glass. "Thank you," he articulated, raising a hand and was reaching out to touch my cheek, but quickly backed away, seeing I was looking at his hand as if it could bite me, and then put his hand down slightly, but went back, and lightly touched my cheek with the back of my hand and chills went down my spine, as my entire body became a live wire at his touch, strange yet almost comforting, and I straightened my back as he placed his hand under my chin, looking at his strange golden eyes.

I couldn't take it anymore, though, I leaned away, remembering my hate for him now. It was no longer something small and intimate if I ever felt anything from him. If he didn't force me into this marriage thing, then maybe I would have told him the true reason for the note and maybe he wouldn't be this cold.

"You can't win my love by making me marry you," I hissed, backing away on the bed. He cringed, and rose elegantly from the end of the bed and began to walk out, slamming the door behind him.

I watched as he left, feeling my stomach drop, as I looked at myself in the mirror. The bun in my hair had already been taken out, I noticed, the pins were piled unorganized on my vanity table, and the elegant pearl comb was nowhere to be found. Three guesses where it may have gone, and the first one doesn't count. I huffed something crossed between an aghast sigh and groan, which equaled a gargle.

I looked at the ring placed on my finger, wondering just how lovingly he placed it on my finger. The man was desperate, I knew that much... I wondered how he would be like if his face wasn't deformed, and he wasn't so ugly. I'd bet he'd be one of those geniuses that create something epically dramatic to change the way society works either in music or maybe technology, or business... I actually couldn't see Erik in a suit like that. He's usually more elegantly fashioned, I just don't see how his mind could be restrained to something restricted as that. I bet he'd be the next greatest composer. Yes... I could see his name on top of music scores like any other composer, except much better. And he still has the audacity to love someone like me...

It's the only way he was raised, I suppose, to be extreme. Really this was something perfectly reasonable in his mind... Oh, but what am I to do now? I was trying to make sense of a madman, but it was perfectly reasonable in my mind for his conditions...

How the heck am I supposed to help him...? I'm not strong, I can't say I love him, I can't stand him crying... Why me?

Shoving it to the furthest pits of my mind, I began to undress myself from the uncomfortable dress and put sweatpants and a t-shirt on, suddenly aware of what couples do on a wedding night. I felt sick again, but throwing up into the toilet wasn't the brightest idea when I didn't even have something in my stomach. I then realized I was starving except there's no way in hell I'm going downstairs. I'm sure he wasn't going to deliver a meal, either, probably wanting me to come downstairs.

"Are you hungry, Christine?" I swear the man reads my mind. That's creepy but interesting in the same way. I didn't answer, feeling as if I was choking on the overwhelming emotion and thought that was going through my mind.

"You'll have to eat downstairs, my dear..."

I pressed my lips together tightly.

"Are you even in there, darling?" He asked impatiently, knocking on the door hurriedly. I didn't answer that time, either, for no reason exactly, so he opened the door anyway, and looked worried, his bony shoulders tense, and I think that was the first time I actually saw him like that, it looked sort of funny... Despite, I crossed my arms across my chest, and glared at him, as I got off the bed, leaning against it. "I'm not bringing it up, if that's what you're thinking. You must come downstairs sometime or starve." He said, sounding like a parent, which only caused me to blush a light shade of red.

Evidently, he took the blush the wrong way. "What is it? Won't you speak?" He excitedly questioned.

"I'll be downstairs in a second, okay? Just go." I hissed, ignoring my thoughts. He left the room swiftly.

I looked at the clock... four hours until I'll be heading to bed... I shuddered again, looking to see if I was somewhat decent in the mirror. He was not going to be sleeping in the same room as me. That just wasn't happening...

I walked down the stairs with shaky knees and an aching stomach, I had to clutch my sides again, and walked in that same condition into the dining room.

The dinner was more vast and spread out elegantly the gourmet food looking large in their own proportions, and there were two candles lit on both sides of the table. I had to blush... knowing Erik really tried to make this something nice, knowing this was more than enough for just me to eat. He may be eating? I sat down in my usual seat across from Erik who was watching intently. I silently put grace on the food along with praying that this night will not end up like I'm beginning to think it will. He seemed to notice it, for he nodded to himself when I opened my eyes and looked up, blushing again.

"Do you like it?" He asked quietly, trying to please.

I only nodded, choking back my actual words, and smiled reassuringly, when I lifted the fork from the table.

"I hope it's to your own tastes." He noted quietly, mimicking my actions and picking up his fork, stabbing a piece of meat and carefully, as if being measures, put the piece of substantial food into his mouth.

"It's nice..." I replied assuringly, not wanting this conversation to go on. I went on eating, not looking up, keeping my head bent low. The silence was maddening, something I now knew I hated just by being in this mansion.

Blinking a few times, I breathed in quietly, "Erik... about... tonight..." I began slowly, looking to his masked face which looked boyishly hopeful, but then became cold.

"I have composed something for you... A wedding mass, of which I will play for you, and I think you will like it very much." He rushed quickly before I could say something. I nodded to myself, rolling my eyes where he couldn't see as I looked down to the rest of the food, once more feeling sick at the reminder. I wiped my mouth with the napkin and placed it by my plate, and scrunched my shoulders to relieve the tensity.

"Come," He pressed, reaching out for me to take his arm, and I stared at it spitefully. He was like a little boy, and could have possibly pouted when I refused to take it.

I followed him to the music room and he signaled to a chair and I sat down, watching him sit himself elegantly at the piano bench, playing a few scales with his long fingers, tapping the keys lovingly, and eventually, the notes wrapped into a lovely melody, calling for me to listen, caressing my ear soft as silk, and filled with lust in each note...

The entire piece was absolutely beautiful and meaningful, something that sent chills up and down my spine, and brought tears rolling down my cheeks unbeknown to me, and I was sitting there, watching him play this piece to me... lulling himself back and forth, shutting his eyes, but then sometimes looked back to me, to see if I was still there, as if to remember something. I sat there awed, I suppose, and dumbfounded, escaping my human body for just a little while, and joy filled me to not be the doomed Christine Daae anymore.

The piece became even more delicate, every chord something luscious and light. Every phrase a sentence of something poetic, but I just couldn't decode everything, because it was at a blur right before the final ending with so many emotions being pounded into my head.

He found me in tears as he turned around, and knelt in front of me and grabbed my hands gently, looking so small in his own.

"Oh, please, I didn't mean to make you cry... You know I hate to see your tears..." He tried to get my attention below my eyes, for my head was hanging low. "Did you absolutely resent it?" He questioned earnestly, sounding utterly disappointed.

I shook my head in the negative, founding no words able to articulate upon my lips, pressing them together. "It was astounding," I replied reassuringly. "Very, very beautiful."

"Then you enjoyed it?" He finalized.

I shook my head in the positive, wanting his hurting voice to stop playing in my head for once, and just listen to more of that otherworldly music once more, letting my mind go elsewhere forever. I wished the fantasies could be real... my life would be so much easier.

"You are so beautiful, Christine, so very beautiful-" And my head beeped out the comments that he made, and I found myself feeling like a doll as he took a curl of my hair gingerly between his fingers, as he would touch anything on my head except my face... I chose not to hear his words, I chose not the feel anything, I felt stiff for at least the majority of it until I got tired of feeling like his plaything, and I rose from my seat, clenching my hands into fists.

"I'm tired and going to bed." I hissed suddenly, throwing him aback for just a few seconds, and it took a while after I slammed the door to the music room and heard it reopen to notice he was following, and my cheeks probably obviously became a brilliant red as my heart sped up, making it even more absolutely uncomfortable. I turned at the pivot, finding myself directly under his nose, looking at his chest. "I'll be fine alone. Goodnight."

That, evidently, was a slap in the face for him, for he glowered on it for a second, I suppose as I began to stomp away, maybe I'll be there before he and lean against the door the entire night, so he wouldn't come in. How dare he even think about this?

"There's nothing in this world that will stop me from sleeping with my wife on wedding night." He said directly, looking into my eyes with sincerity.

"Erik... No, please..." I backed away, running into the chair that was directly next to my waist, almost falling over, and I knew it was to save me from falling, but at the time, I thought it was something worse, but he grabbed my wrist and helped me upright before I fell over on my head, and once more I was under his nose, feeling the shortest as I've always felt, and most intimidated.

"Erik will never hurt you, or take anything... unwelcome liberties... Christine knows that, right? Come, now, you must be tired." He hastened, tightening his grip on my wrist in order for me to drag me off. My breathing became unsteady, and I felt that I was leaning against his grip as my knees wobbled.

"But... but, Erik... Be rational here... For once..." I pleaded as he began to pull me away.

"Christine is Erik's wife, is she not?"

"But, Erik..."

"Christine!" He hastened unsteadily. "You hardly let me kiss you, you must just do this small little thing... as my wife."

"It's hardly little!" I hissed, trying hard not to shrink away in defeat, and to add onto my determination, I stomped my foot. "Not now..." I whispered pleadingly.

He sighed heavily, and slowly, his hands loosened their grip on my wrists until he finally let go. I ran off immediately, slamming the door to my room and flickered on the light half-expecting to see him there laughing maniacally like some insane monster off the movies, but I was much relieved not to, after taking a few childish rounds about the room. I feared that he would dare to come in if I got dressed into nightclothes so I went on sleeping in sweatpants and t-shirt which was comfortable enough.

I lay awake after shutting off the light, staring at the door, wondering if he would come in. I think it was after an hour of simply staring at it, I dozed off finding my life a wreck anyway, why does it matter?

I awoke to the morning light peering in my window, offering a rude awakening. The light was inviting though, so I decided to sit by it, letting the warm sun caress my cold body for once. I was frightfully pale recently, paler than I've always been, and I sat there in hopes of bringing color to my dull self, but my attempts were failed, for Erik was probably expecting my presence downstairs... well... at least I had someone that wanted me to live. I rose from my seat by the window, after looking out to the garden that was blooming lavishly, of course.

I left the room in that daze-like fashion, finding myself once more floating down the stairs, feeling like a ghost.

There was an utmost surprise that awaited me, though, for I found that there was another voice in this house, and currently, Erik's overpowering the heavy accented one. Instantaneously curious, I found myself running toward the living room door, and opening it to find Erik with his hand clenching a middle-eastern-looking man, who seemed indifferent to the touch, and I, for a second, questioned whether he was already unconscious or not, though he was breathing.

Erik saw me standing there, my jaw hanging open looking at the both of them with wide eyes, my heart thudding against my chest.

"Christine!" He exclaimed, dropping the man, and began toward me, and all I seemed to be capable of was scream and begin backing away. Erik, though, caught me before I could fall over my own feet whilst attempting to get away, and the strange man only stared at me with some sort of comical frustration.

Erik took me gently, but firmly by the shoulders and led me back in, and in some sort of terrible feeling, I felt that he may, indeed, take those two ugly hands around me. But the way he touched gave the swift reassurance that he meant no harm to me, at least... only to other people. That is in no way better. He calmed me down with soft whispers, using that low voice to convince me, but it didn't. I couldn't seem to grasp this interesting fact that there's someone else in this home besides Erik, the maid and butler, and myself. A guest, if you will... As if Erik had any guests.

He took my left hand and exposed the ring that was on my finger to the man, "See, Nadir?" He asked slyly, though desperately. He then went off in some odd language that I didn't understand and I looked at him with an arched brow, trying for him to let go of my hand, and demand to know what he was saying.

"I'm not convinced, Erik," The man that was named Nadir said in English, looking to me curiously.

"Did you choose to be here?" He asked kindly, tilting his head to the side, though still seeming stiff, as if Erik never even attempted to choke him like I just saw.

"No," I replied glaring at Erik who obviously lied in the other language for he sheepishly showed it in his expression down to me. Perhaps this stranger was my chance at escaping. "He's my foster parent," I explained, looking away from Erik.

"Erik," Nadir demanded in his thick accent.

"Christine, do you mind leaving us for a few minutes as I take care of this?" Erik asked sweetly into my ear.

I glared at him, annoyed that he was hiding something from me, "Don't kill him..." I begged, thinking I wasn't wanting to have my name in newspapers as someone that was unable to avoid a freak death.

"Just go, Christine." He demanded coldly, and it hit me with such fierceness that I went out of the room gladly before he used that tone once more. I waited outside of the room, though, pressing my ear on the door.

"She doesn't want to leave because she doesn't want to go to a foster home. She likes it here, and she chooses to stay." I grunted with dissatisfaction that he was lying again, how could I choose to stay when he doesn't even give me a phone to call someone on and ask to take me to the damn foster home? I would much rather go there than be married to him. Erik than said something once more in another language, and Nadir replied with the same angry-sounding accent, but it wasn't just because Arabic always sounds demanding.

"This is obviously against her wishes," He hastened, leaving the language again. Once more, Erik was hiding something, and I was strictly determined to find out.

"Oh, please, Nadir..." Erik then went on, exasperated, in the other language. Seeing there wasn't much more I could do for this situation, I backed away from the door knowing he knew I was listening intently outside of it. I walked away and into the dining room where there was already food waiting to be eaten.

I sat alone, of course, and ate the meal slowly, thinking over the many things Erik could possibly hiding from his "wife"... but maybe it's just better left to be unsaid or not understandable, and sighed, still wanting to know.

Oh, how I hated being here...

A/N: I'll have you know that this is the first time I included Nadir in this story:P He may not be the greatest characterization, but I'm working on it. Tell me what you think! Click that rather large button that has that word "review" in it!