Okay, this may just be my last update for a while because band camp starts up tomorrow and i'll be out in the hot sun marching around playin' my flute and it's going to be miserable. First of all, because there will be fingerprints *gasps loudly and things crash all over* on my flute because of the hot and sweatiness and then there's gonna be this annoying lyre on my arm all day and it's going to hurt... At least the people are awesome... that's band for you. Anyway, enough about my rant, I want to hear yours because this wasn't the greatest chapter I've written I think... i kind of did it hurriedly while in the car for ten hours driving home and then until 12 last night to read it over.

Lemme hear what you gotta say...

Love to you all for I don't know when I'll be able to post again...

~The Phantom's Flutist~

Chapter 30:
A Mistake

I was glad to have worn my heavy jacket for the chill soon turned to downright freezing as the night went on. Erik graciously lent me a scarf for he saw that my cheeks were beginning to flush from the chilliness of the town near the harbor. Last time I was here was when I was with Raoul eating at the small French cafe near the harbor when I conveniently escaped the confinement of the mansion only to find him dragging me back again out of jealousy and anger because I didn't listen to him. We passed that cafe, in fact, on our stroll about the cute little old city that I've grown to adore.

The busyness of the holidays kept the shoppers a good distance from the odd couple that passed them. People were more interested in having a efficient way of getting their loved ones a present rather than waste a few minutes staring at the masked man. It did not matter to me, of course, for it was the worst thing in the world to be stared at uncomfortably.

Strange how there was holiday decor all around in all of the shop windows and Erik did never seem to bring the subject up as we walked along no matter how many times he had to pause for me to simply look at the things and then walk on to the next window, dazzled by the warmth it brought back into my heart at the thought of my father. No more emptiness and not much pain, but good memories when we would have a big party with the neighborhood on Christmas Eve and have a bonfire at the edge of the forest and in the morning I would wake up to find bunches of brilliant presents underneath our horribly decorated Christmas tree in the small living room. At night, Raoul came over sometimes if his parents would let him with his brother, to switch gifts... mine would always be so much less than his and the more I thought about it always made me feel guilty no matter how many times he said not to worry about it.

I didn't dare bring that story up with Erik and it was the only way I could think of to bring up the holiday subject, so I suffered silently, hoping he'd already guessed.

I saw a hot chocolate stand along the way and once I saw it, I looked back to Erik with big, wide eyes hoping he'd immediately get the hint. It took a while.

"Could I get some?" I felt like I was his child or something, my voice high and possibly annoying, clasping my hands together. I haven't had hot chocolate in years, I believe. He looked to me, then to the stand, nodded, and produced two dollars from his pocket and I skipped away and stepped to the stand, ordering my hot chocolate and smiling gleefully holding the familiar warm drink in my hand. I looked up to Erik and took a sip as he studied me.

"Want a sip?" I asked playfully, knowing he'd reject.

"I'm afraid I'll have to pass," He replied just as surprisingly lightly.

I frowned, "You don't know what you're missing. Have you ever had hot chocolate before?" I asked.

"I'm afraid, my dear, that I'd rather not lift my mask in public," He said in my ear and I gasped an "oh" and nodded in understanding.

"Well, it's really good," I noted as I took another sip of the drink, wiping the chocolate from my mouth. "This stuff is, at least... not the ones that come in little bags. It has to be real chocolate, or else it won't be good... my father and I used to melt crumbs of a chocolate bar in warm milk and that's how we made hot chocolate," I smiled to myself as I wandered off into that small memory once more, detailing it to him, "...I made it for Santa all up until I found that there's no such thing when my dad made a bunch of noise getting the keyboard into our small living room when I was eight."

He listened intently but I stopped after a while, wondering to myself if I annoyed him with all of my dozing off into memories like that. I couldn't help it sometimes... Erik seemed to almost remind me of my father, if not a direct comparison with his actual witty personality and light-hearted jokes only created to bring a smile to my face once in a while that I ever so valued.

I walked further along until I noticed that we were nearing the darker, sketchy parts of this city, where the oldest houses and mansions were. A dark, ominous, and bricked house peered down to me.

"The Bryce house," I mumbled while I passed it warily.

He looked down to me curiously. "I took a ghost tour once," I explained, "The most haunted house here... Of course... I don't really believe in ghosts, I mean... Our spirits only go to Hell or heaven, which is what's clarified in the bible... What do you think, Erik?" I asked.

"Ghosts..." He mumbled, looking at the house notably, seeming to muse to himself, "I believe in them." He said, seeming very much so amused.

"What?" I asked, smiling to him.

"It's nothing." He snickered.

It was then that I felt something on my shoulder and began to pull me off, too quickly that I couldn't even bother to scream, and when I did, a hand went over my mouth.

"Hush, Christine... it's me." A familiar voice said into my ear, I bit the hand instinctively anyway just to get him off.

"My God..." I whispered, eying the shadow that stood in front of me in the dark alley. It was Raoul, surprisingly enough and he was very much better. "Raoul..." I whispered, and immediately was pulled into his embrace quickly and then began to pull me off through the alley. I pulled back, not knowing what exactly to think.

"What are you doing? Come on... you have to come with me... I can get you out of this still." He whispered only loud enough so I could hear it.

"I can't—Raoul!" I muttered, putting my hand over my mouth.

"Not time to talk, I can get you to my car..."

"Raoul!" I called again, pulling back on his grasp and that was when he finally looked back to me, disbelief coloring his face handsomely, his jaw set, eyes wide and startled.

"Right now we can't debate, Christine, we have to run before he catches up."

"You don't get it!" I threw my hand out of his grasp which was much easier than getting out of Erik's, but he caught hold of my other hand and pulled me forth with all his strength, and I wasn't so strong to hold him back this time, so I had to walk with it, leaning back.

Out of nowhere, Raoul had let go, and fell to the ground, so quickly that I couldn't blink, and I felt myself being pulled the other way. It was Erik, naturally, who had knocked Raoul to the cold stone and disgusting floor of the alley, curled up in pain, but then somehow got back up, and ran unbalanced back toward us, my heart thudding.

"Raoul!" I called back out again, wanting desperately to explain but Erik only pulled me more harshly that it hurt extremely. I heard him curse to me, through his breath, frighteningly angry that I began to cry, knowing I couldn't get him out of it on a split second.

It was even more astonishing that Raoul had caught up with him. "Let her go, you monster!" He called out, grabbing my other wrist, pulling me away so that he would have a good grasp at Erik, who swiftly turned around and grabbed the hand that held a small knife in it.

"Raoul, no!" I cried over and over again, trying to grab him and get him away, but he was in too much of an adrenaline rush that it hardly did anything. It was all too quickly that they were fighting, Erik winning and no matter what words I said to the both of them, they wouldn't listen.

It was Erik who faltered, and fell to the ground with a delicate thud and I screamed, though he still had the strength to keep the knife from him. I swooped in quickly, and grabbed the knife in the wrong place, my vision blurred by tears and confusion, only feeling a slight pain in my hand. That thing was sharp. Well, duh... At least I somehow got it out of my hand, feeling utterly ridiculous staring at my bleeding hand and the knife that had it coming to begin with.

They both stared at me, as if just finally realizing I was screaming about the blood coming from my hand too quickly. At least it wasn't Erik... He threw Raoul off of him, once more landing on the ground, and grabbed my not-bleeding hand and dragged me off toward the car. I stupidly stared at my hand, feeling very sick to my stomach for I forgot how much I hated the sight of blood. He didn't care. He basically carried me halfway because of my lack of speed and efficiency. I had no way to rebel, to hit him because of my spinning vision.

He went into the backseat and searched as I sat up front, threw me some sort of cloth without another word.

"Put it on your hand," I heard through the curses and muttering he said once in a while hearing my name, and I only sighed, trying to keep back the bile rising in my throat, breathing heavily, just noticing the stinging pain when I pressed the cloth over my hand.

"How could I ever have trusted you?" He said, his fists clenching the steering wheel murderously.

"I didn't know he was going to be here!" I cried out angrily. He ignored me, and kept his eyes glued to the road. His anger frightened me... what was he going to do now that he's not going to believe me again after all we've been through? After I told him I wanted to stay... It hurt that he didn't believe me, that he actually meant what he said about him sleeping this entire time... that it's just a dream. I expected him to think he just woken up from that dream. I went on trying to convince him but he ignored me and it was useless, so I went back to tending to my hand. The stinging becoming unbearable. What will Raoul think now? I cried silently for my hand because the car didn't seem to move fast enough though he was probably speeding down the highway, and that I couldn't explain to Raoul or Erik... Make some sort of unlikely truce. Having two men killing each other over me is no way to put me at any sort of peace at mind, and made it all the more uncomfortable to admit love to either of them when all they want to do is fight and hardly understand each other.

Erik carried me into the house, grumbling to himself still as he moved, and I hardly understood any of it. There was some sort of falter in his walking, which made it seem like he was limping, but when I asked him what was wrong, he didn't answer.

He placed me without any sort of care onto the couch and limped off to another room that I didn't see, still staring at my hand and unable to tear my gaze off of it as the blood seeped through the thick cloth, and I began to panic, my heart never ceasing to race.

He came back quickly with a small leather bag and knelt by me, grabbing my hand carefully, and gently unwrapped the cloth without another word. He looked at the large gash, I noticed his hands were shaking with a hardly-controlled anger, then to me who probably was as pale as a ghost.

"Look away," He ordered flatly and I did so gladly, still picturing my bloody hand. I felt one long-fingered and freezing hand hold it up, shaking, and the other unsteadily wiping the blood off my hand gently with something wet and then suddenly, it stung even more harshly. I cried out because of the pain that came through my hand like fire burning it. I couldn't help but look down to it to see the fizzy stuff in the wound.

"It's cleaning it out, Christine," He answered briskly. And I shook my head, shutting my eyes tightly, biting my lip and leaning away.

I moaned until I felt another sort of tight cloth come over my hand diagonally and I looked at it, then to Erik, who gathered his things and swiftly walked away, glaring back to me, restraining an untold madness.

He came back after I waited for him to after who knows how long for there is no such thing as a clock in this damned place to begin with.

"Why did you run?" He asked demandingly as soon as he walked in, slamming the door behind with that seemed to shake the entire house. I shriveled up my feet.

"He pulled me along, I didn't want to go!" I said directly, shivering either because of the loss of blood or because he was frightening me again.

"I trusted you with what you say... I trusted you!" There was no such thing as gentleness or beauty in that horrible flat voice. "I should have learned long ago not to do such a thing..." He shook his head, laughing seemingly. "You take the nearest chance and run for it, now that I am better, you can just leave whenever."

"No! I wasn't planning on running, he was just there..." I shook my head wildly, finding myself backed up entirely into the couch, sinking deeply into the cushions. "Please... Just believe me, Erik."

"How can I?"

"He would have stabbed you if it wasn't for me getting it out of his hand. When you fell I tried to get him off of you, don't you realize...?"

"I'm not going to believe another one of your deceitful schemes, Christine," He was so close to me. "How can I believe you when you are floundering right now?"

"Because you're scaring me again..." I whispered for his mask was still right there. "And now that you're listening somewhat, I believe you're limping." I blinked at him, putting a hand to his shoulder and moving it back away from me, and it seemed to have worked, for he remained still, moving him like he was some sort of frozen stick-like doll. I backed out of the cushions of the couch, and he looked to my hand and then to me slowly, kneeling down, as if just admitting to doing a bad deed to his scolding mother, but still not losing the tense coldness he held in his emotional eyes.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," He barked suddenly, though still kneeling down before me.

"If I wanted to run, I wouldn't have kept your ring on my finger all this time..." He looked to my left hand which just happened to be the bleeding one, wrapped in all of the cloth now clean. He gently touched my hand, and moved the ring off of my finger to look at it, take his shirt, and polish it off, then put it back on just as gently as before.

"Your boy never scares you, he never hurts you..." He said as if in some sort of question. I didn't know how to answer that so I simply stared blankly, unsure of how to solve this. It turns out I didn't have to.

He moved upward, and took my entire body effortlessly into his arms all of a sudden which seemed to be the new great thing to do for me, for he hasn't done this when I was awake usually. It must cause him enormous joy just doing that, touching me in a way that I was helpless which is what he seems to muse over constantly... utter control.

"Get dressed," He ordered, still standing there as if he was there naturally.

"Um, pardon?" I asked, tilting my head to the side.

"It's very late, and you must sleep now. Get dressed." He continued firmly. I seemed to pale of all color at the awkward turn this was coming into. I waited for him to move or do something. "Must I really spell it out for you or are you a big girl now? Does your boy have to spell things out for you? I can be just like him you know...God forbid the prince charming swooping into save you, but I can treat you as a child, if you'd like. I thought you were over it, but if you insist-" The bitter sarcasm in his voice hurt, and I glared at him just as angrily, awkwardly getting my clothes together, and going into the bathroom, slamming the door shut, changing into a long-sleeved nightgown, feeling a few tears rolling down my cheek.

Would it be like this forever, then? Just because he thought I was going to run away again and leave him just because he was almost healed? I walked out of the door, gripping the handle if I had to slam it on his face to show my annoyance. He was sitting casually on my bed, looking to me with unreadable and far-off eyes. He made a gesture for me to come over there, and I unsteadily did so, not seeing the point of this entire facade.

He wiped the leftover tears from my face and sat me, like his personal doll, onto his lap. "Come now, don't be upset..." He whispered warmly in my ear, and my ears weren't deceived. I could sense the strangeness to his tone. I shifted uncomfortably, looking back to his mask, but he moved me even tighter into his embrace, and I still tried to shift gradually, not finding any sort of strength when his voice is lulling me like so. He scooped me up with one arm and placed me onto the bed, bringing the untidy covers to my chin and I looked to him with a concerned brow as he sat on the bed and combed his fingers through my hair.

"You're mine," He whispered acidly getting up from his seat.

"Erik-" I began, and he placed a finger onto my lips and I blinked up to him, confusedly.

"Just remember that." He replied and walked out.

I didn't sleep at all that night... I wondered about Erik's health and if I had something to do with it. He was so very easily breakable, if something like that ever occurs again, he might very easily double over.
It was then that I knew something had to change. Maybe he needs a more usual life some sort of other thing running through his veins other than morphine and music. If I could just get him to eat regularly, maybe things would be much better.