"I hate not knowing whether your kind words are real or not

For the pain within me is not forgot.

How I want to believe that what you say is true

But how can I trust thee and let my heart break

The moment I feel loved is the moment you'll take.

Shatter and pull from my chest once more

Is my pulsating heart which for you, it only beats for..." -Excerption from the diary of Erik

Erik's POV

Christine wanted a Thanksgiving! How dare she ask it! I had been here ten long years, and never one had I ever celebrated any holiday, especially that specific one! It was a day to be thankful, but what did I have to be thankful for? I was a lonely middle aged virgin with no friends, wife or children! What did I have to be thankful for? Yes, I did care for Christine in some odd way, but I just couldn't let myself give her the time to break my heart again. Ten years alone had changed me, and for the better. I was no longer the naïve, love stricken man I had one been. Christine, however had changed as well. She used to fear me, but for some odd reason she tried babying me at every chance possible.

Christine needed a bed. My bed was far to unworthy of her, and stained with my scent. When she complained about the springs pressing up against her back, it hurt me to know that I was making her uncomfortable but I didn't let her know that…No, I simply let myself be angry at her for complaining. When I left to get her a bed, I brought it back and placed it right beside mine. And as if thanking me for my kindness, she made me a sandwich. Never had anyone ever made me anything….not even a sandwich. But what did I do again? I yelled at her. I couldn't help it. She deserved everything for what she had done to me ten years ago…but for some reason, I couldn't help but regret my anger.

I was underweight, always had been and always will be. I had an eating disorder that would cause myself to vomit whatever I ate. When I was a child trapped in the gypsy fair, I would vomit because of my weak stomach. It had followed me all the way up until now, only letting me eat a small thing once a day without having to vomit. Oh, but I was so hungry, and her sandwich looked and smelled so delicious. I promised I would only take one bite, but my one bite turned into two then two into three…soon the whole sandwich was gone! For the first time in years, I felt full. But my fullness only lasted a short amount of time, for within seconds I was running to the bathroom to vomit. It was my worst episode in years. I gasped as the vomit continued to come, but something felt different….There was a hand rubbing my back. Once more I vomited and turned to see Christine standing behind me. No one had ever comforted me like this….I was a mess and yet Christine was there behind me. But like a monster, I couldn't accept her kindness and yelled at her.

Even when I yelled at her, she didn't leave my side. She offered to get a doctor for me, but I refused. I thought I would have been alright for the remainder of the day, but my stomach continued to bother me. So much, that I bathed early and crawled into bed. Christine tried to say goodnight to me, but I didn't respond, no, I just laid there within my bed, trying to sleep. Why? Why had I eaten her lunch? Why? All through the night, I groaned in agony as my stomach cramped and pained me. I clenched it with my hands and twirled within the blankets.

But something happened…It was Christine. She appeared by my side and rubbed my back and held the chamber pot over my mouth as I vomited again that evening. No one had ever cared for me like this. No! I couldn't think like this! I couldn't let myself become love sick again, I wouldn't let it happen! I wasn't sure what else went on that night because I passed out after tiring myself from throwing up. When I awoke the next morning, I reached over for my mask and slipped it on before rolling over to my back. I opened my eyes to the sunlight that was coming in through the window above my head, only to notice that Christine's bed was empty and made. I groaned, and reached over on the nightstand of my pocket watch, but found myself too weak to open it.

"Erik?"

That voice! That soft yet wonderful voice was calling my name. I looked over at the doorway to see Christine standing there in her nightclothes holding a cup filled with some sort of drink, and a plate with a piece of toast on it.

"I'm fine." I assured in a cold tone of voice.

She was coming closer now, I could hear her. When she was right at my bedside, she placed the toast down on my night table, and held the cup towards me. How badly I wanted to yell at her, but I decided to let this one slide and accept the drink. When the cold water hit my lips, I slowly drank it down, and handed the empty cup back to her.

"Thank you." I murmured.

Wait? I thanked her…No! Erik wake up!

"That piece of toast should settle your stomach." she said. "I emptied the chamber pot this morning too."

Damn me! Not only had I probably gotten vomit all over her, but she cleaned out the full chamber pot I had been vomiting into all through the night! If there was anyone who deserved to burn in hell it was me. How dare I let an angel clean up after the devil!

"Erik, I'm sorry about the sandwich yesterday, really I am. If I would have known…"

I put up my hand. I wouldn't let her take the blame for my mistake. It's not like she could have known.

"No, Christine. It's fine, really."

I pushed my blankets aside, and sat up. When I looked down at my nightshirt, I noticed that the top was stained in my vomit. God! How embarrassing!

"I'll wash that for you, Erik."

Christine was offering to wash my clothes. I wouldn't let her! I refused to let her!

"No!" I screamed this, and I hadn't meant to….damn me!

Christine backed up, and nodded before carrying the cup away. I sighed in frustration, and stumbled over to my wardrobe closet to change. Once I was dressed for the day, I locked my legs into my braces, and limped to my desk.

"Erik, you didn't eat the toast I made you." I heard Christine remind me.

"I'm…I'm not hungry." I kindly said, dipping my quill into my ink canister.

I wanted to do something nice for Christine, but it had to be something small, something that would make her happy, but not hopeful. I still didn't want a thing to do with her, and I wasn't about to believe that her kindness towards me would lead to love. I knew it wouldn't because she was afraid of my face.

Perhaps I would let her celebrate Thanksgiving. Yes! That would be perfect. It would make her happy, and it wouldn't involve me. If she wanted dinner then she could cook it and eat by herself. This was perfect.

"Christine?"

"Yes?" I turned to see her coming out of our bedroom…wait? Our bedroom? Why was I thinking this? This was my house after all! Everything belonged to me!

"I have to go into town." I told her. "Perhaps you could pick out a turkey and some things for Thanksgiving."

Christine's eyes lit up with excitement upon hearing this. She smiled at me, and I knew she was thanking me in her own way.

"That would be nice."

I finished up my paper work, and stood to place on my cloak.

"Well then, we should be going."

The snow storm had stopped, leaving Phantasma covered in white, and the snow level up to my ankles. My walking stick helped me keep my balance as Christine and I made our way into town. There weren't many occasions where I would go into town, mostly because everyone pointed and stared at me. After mailing out my paper work, I led Christine to the butcher so she could pick out a turkey. Even then, the butcher stared at me as he wrapped up the fat turkey Christine had chosen. I turned away to avoid him, but I could still feel his eyes burning into my back.

"It's not nice to gawk, sir." came Christine's soft voice.

She had stood up for me! No one had ever done such a thing. I turned back around, only to notice that the butcher was no longer staring. Oh, Christine…. I paid for the turkey, and followed Christine back outside. It was strange walking around town with Christine at my side, but I tolerated it. Yes, there was still love deep within my heart for the girl walking beside me, but that love was gone….probably for good. The pain in my heart kept me from ever becoming love sick within her presence. When we walked past a store window, Christine stopped and looked at the display of wedding dresses.

"What are you looking at?" I asked, stopping beside her.

She looked up at me and then back at the window one last time before moving on.

"Nothing." she assured. "I'm cold, we should be getting back."

I wasn't sure what that was all about, but did as Christine wanted and led us back to the flat. Once inside, Christine unpacked the groceries while I prepared a small fire to warm us up. After hanging up my cloak, I made my way over to the piano I had on the other side of the room and sat down, not knowing what to play. I began to play a random soft tune I had written years ago, only to hear Christine humming it in the background. How did she know this tune? I never played it in front of her before.

I abruptly stopped playing, and turned around to see her bouncing around my kitchen. What was she so happy about?

"Why did you stop?" I heard Christine ask.

"You were humming." I said.

"I thought you enjoyed when I sang."

"Humming and singing are two different things." I shuddered. "Humming is something one does when they don't know the lyrics. Tell me, Christine, where did you hear that song?"

Christine placed down the cup she had been cleaning, only to turn to me with a look of concern across her face.

"I heard it one night when I was in bed. You were playing, and it echoed up to the dormitories." she paused. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

It was possible. There were many a nights where I would play my organ into the wee hours of the morning. Those were nights when I was most alone and upset.

"You didn't. I…I just never knew someone had heard it."

"It's a beautiful song."

There were things I wanted to say…so many kind things. My heart was beginning to soar, ever so high…higher than it had been in ten years.

"I…that is…I could teach…"

"Yes?"

Yes, my heart was soaring, but my anger quickly clipped its wings before it could get any higher.

"Just go away and leave me be." I groaned. "I have work to do."

This hadn't been what I wanted to say. My body wanted to teach her the lyrics, and hear her sing them….but I couldn't let my love sickness come out again, for I knew once I heard her sing again, I would be hypnotized. As long as Christine didn't sing, I would be just fine.

My anger kept Christine away, for later that night, I sat within my armchair reading one of my many books as I heard her rummaging around in the kitchen. If there was anything paining me worse than my face, it was my legs. I had freed them of my braces, but still the pain burned through them like wildfire. To relax myself, I filled up my bathtub with hot water, and slipped my naked body down into the water. I lit some candles on the side of the tub, and laid my head against the back of it to relax myself. A hot bath always soothed my pain, especially the pain in my legs. For a while, I laid there reading a book in the dim candle light…I had even begun to drift off, until I heard a knock at the bathroom door. The sudden sound caused me to drop the book I was reading on the floor, and to grab my mask and place it back over my malformed face.

"Erik? Are you in there?"

"Yes." I called out. "I'm bathing."

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I really have to use the toilet. Could I come in?"

Christine? Use the bathroom while I was still in it? Dear god, no!

"Erik?"

What to do….I sunk my body down into the suds, and replied with a simple "Come in."

The door slowly opened, and Christine came walking in without even glancing my way. She made it over to the toilet and that's when I looked away.

"You've been in here a long time." Christine said.

I kept my glance towards the wall, as I listened to her going to the bathroom.

"I've been soaking my legs. They are in the worst pain possible."

"Could I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"The other night I opened your medicine cabinet to find it full of weird medicines. Are you ill?"

How dare she go searching through my medicine cabinet! How dare she! I let her stay here out of the kindness of my heart and what does she do? Rummages through my personal things. Indeed I was ill. Because of the condition my body was in and the open piece of skull on my head, I would receive a lot of pain from time to time. I always kept my cabinet stocked with plenty of morphine and sleeping pills just incase. Usually, I used the morphine at least once a week because of the terrible headaches I was so used to getting laid up with.

"I guess you could say that. I have a weak heart, and the piece of missing skull cause me a lot of pain." I said. "The morphine helps."

"I'm sorry, Erik."

With that, I heard the toilet flush and for the door to close again. I laid there for a few minutes more before getting up and wrapping the towel around my waist. When I stumbled back out into my bedroom, Christine was sat in my arm chair wearing her nightgown. I couldn't help but notice her eyes gawking at my exposed knees. She gasped, and went back to looking at what ever book she was reading. After being beaten, my knees had become twisted and malformed. I was told I would never walk again, but somehow, my knees had healed just enough to let me do just that. Before she could get a glance at my hideously scarred body, I threw on my shirt.

"Don't gawk at me." I sneered, crawling into bed.

"I'm sorry." Christine whispered softly. "I didn't know they looked….Oh, god, Erik I'm so sorry."

I sat there in bed, massaging them with my boney fingers. Pain, so much pain erupted within my shattered bones.

"There's no reason to be sorry." I coldly stated. "It is no one's fault but my own."

"That's not true."

How dare she go against my word! Damn her!

"Yes it is. I believed America was much safer than Paris, and didn't bother carrying around anything that could have prevented this. I was completely unarmed the night I was mugged. I should have known better…"

"Erik, don't be so hard on yourself. Everyone makes mistakes, don't they?"

No! I, the Phantom of the Opera makes no mistakes! It was a tragedy that happened to me, not a mistake on my part!

"I don't make mistakes, Madame."

"But you're human.. Everyone makes mistakes."

"I am not a human!" I shouted. "I am a monster!

"Erik, you are not a monster. I have seen your heart, and what you have done to help me out…Erik, a monster is not capable of kindness."

When the pain in my legs became too much, I plopped back on my pillows and groaned. So much pain, so much agony filled my legs. Maybe I shattered the bones within it. Maybe I worked myself too hard. Damn me if I was to be confined to this godforsaken bed.

But what happened next, took my breath away. Christine rose from where she was sitting, took an extra pillow from her bed, and approached me.

"You may not know this." she purred, clenching the pillow tightly to her chest. "But a few years ago I fell down the stairs and broke my leg."

How could god be so cruel? How could god let an angel fall? Wait? Why did I even care! Damn my body! Damn it to hell!

"I was forced to lay in bed for over a month. But there was one thing I learned from it. When my leg was in so much pain, I placed a pillow beneath it and it instantly soothed the pain."

It was then, that Christine placed her arm under both of my legs, and lifted them before placing the pillow beneath them. Oh, how the feeling of her arm against the backs of my legs teased my tortured body…How my head screamed no, but my body screamed yes! She then placed both of my legs down on the pillow as if she were handling fragile glass. And then, like the loving and caring….No, let me rephrase that….Like the spiteful actress she was, she brought the blankets up over me.

"Better?" she asked.

It did feel a little better, but I wasn't about to tell her that.

"Fine." was all I could muster.

"You have a very interesting library of books." she said. "I hope you don't mind that I read one."

Did I mind? Of course I did! My library was not only filled with classics from Melville and Poe, but also my private collection of different versions of the Kama sutra. I learned a long time ago, that pictures were the only thing I was ever going to see of the female body, and so if I were to live life as the virgin I was, the least I could do was fill my mind with the wonders of how making love was done, and the different styles of it. Oh, how embarrassing it would be for me if Christine ever opened one of my copies.

"Stay out of my library, woman!" I shouted it so loud I was sure I strained my vocal cords. "If you want a damn book to read you ask me, and I'll get you one myself!"

She seemed taken back by this. I don't think she thought I would mind her snooping through my library.

"I'm sorry….I…" she didn't even know what to say.

"This is my home and you have no right to go through my personal things."

"You're right. I'm sorry, Erik, it won't happen again, I promise."

How badly I wanted to believe her, but I knew better than to do so.

"It's just that your stories are wonderful. You read the most romantic and dark stories I had ever seen."

"Christine, enough." I ran my fingers through my hair, and placed my hand over the exposed part of my skull. "I just want to rest. Tomorrow I have business to take care of in the Phantasma stables."

"Stables?" she questioned.

"Yes, stables." questions! Why so many god damn questions!

"I never knew there were animals kept here."

"There are in fact ten horses, five dogs, two elephants and an outnumbered amount of cats. They star in the many shows here during the season. Sometimes in winter I must tend to them to be sure they're alright."

"I never knew you could care so much about animals."

This woman knew nothing about me. I had loved animals my whole life. It was only right to purchase some once Phantasma opened. I didn't just buy any animals of course, each and every animal I owned needed some kind of medical attention. I searched all over the country for people who were looking to rid of them. Most of my horses were former race stallions who's legs had been injured casuing stables to have no use for them. Both of my elephants had no tusks because poachers had taken them, and my dogs had been stays who had become injured in the fastly growing sport of dog fighting. Yes, each and every animal I owned came to Phantasma in need of medical attention, and were now healthy and happy because of me.

I felt bad for them because they were helpless, just as I was when I was trapped in a cage. Animals couldn't stand up for themselves against abuse, and neither could I. But now that I am free, the animal's were now my main priority. Perhaps I did have a heart for animals, but only because they were the only things that didn't give a damn about what I looked like.

"That's a lot of animals. Would it be possible for me to accompany you?"

Great, now Christine wanted to join me. I knew I wouldn't leave her alone within my flat, but something inside me wanted to.

"We're getting an early start." I warned her. "You better get to sleep."

The pillow beneath my legs cradled my pain, and let my body finally relax. I kept my back turned to Christine so she wouldn't have to see my face. And once the room was finally silent and in darkness, I pried away the white porcelain and sat it down on my night table. If there was one thing I enjoyed, it was the feeling of my pillow being pressed up against the open sores of my deformity. For years I have tried to design myself a mask that wouldn't agitate my skin, but so far, I haven't been successful. I have tried different felts and metals, but each one caused more damage to my skin than the last. If only I had been born with a normal face, if only everyone didn't care about what I looked like…I would give anything just to be able to walk around Phantasma without my mask, feel the wind against my bare flesh, and be left in peace. But I knew the terror that would soon come my way if I ever did such a thing. Yes, freaks bearing all shapes of oddities and deformities come from all over to live on Coney Island, but the truth of it was that I had never seen someone as hideous as me. In all my years of living on Coney Island, I had seen freaks marry and bear children. I have learned that the reason it hasn't yet happened to me is because I am the most hideous of them all. For I know that there is no knowledge beyond my comprehension, no art or skill upon this entire planet that lies beyond the mastery of my hand. And yet, like Faust, I look in vain . . . for as long as I live, no woman will ever look on me in love…not even Christine.

Ok everyone, please, please please review! Love you all…