Let The Dream Descend

Come to me, angel of music.

Christine rushed down the halls of Erik's large abode; the walls seemed to twist and turn, trying to throw her off balance in her current state of emotional panic. She ran, tears stinging her light green eyes as she turned into the music room. It was the same room, yes, but it was different. Mirrors were smashed. Papers were scattered. Roses were torn to pieces on the ground. The young soprano looked in closely and found Erik in the centre of the floor, letting out groans of anger and frustration as tears slid down his face. She had never seen him so distraught before, so in pain, so broken. Christine held up a hand to her mouth in attempt to quiet her sobs, and Erik looked up at her, his golden eyes glowing with rage.

She held back sobs of anguish at his expression, his hateful gaze sending daggers to her heart. "Erik... Angel...Please, listen to me," she pleaded, her heart slamming against her rib cage as she slowly approached the masked man. The young soprano felt her heart shattering with each distasteful look he threw at her.

"I thought I that I made myself very clear when I told you to pack your things and to get out. I wish to see you no more!" He snapped at her, his eyes flashing in anger and betrayal. With each step she took towards him, he scurried back with something akin to fear and hurt washed on his face.

"Angel, I didn't want to-I would never want to-" She found it increasingly difficult to form words, her own choked sobs affecting her voice immensely. Erik simply glared at her in impatience. "Raoul made me do it," Christine blurted out, tears starting to run down her rosy pink cheeks.

The masked man scoffed, rolling his eyes with a vigorous shake of his head. "He made you do what? What could that insolent fop force you to do?" He said in a frustrated manner, thinking that she was trying to think of some lie to scheme her way out of the current situation.

"He made me court him... I swear," the young soprano whispered, tears of anguish and guilt streaming down her cheeks.

Erik rolled his eyes at her pitiful attempt at trying to lie to him. "And how so?" He snarled, shooting her a disgusted look.

"H-he told me that if I didn't t-that he-he'd turn you in for any c-crimes you've committed," she sniffled, trying to dry her tears but failing miserably. She fell to her feet before him, desperate for him to believe her as she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle sobs.

Erik let out a harsh scoff, barely glancing at her. "And I'm supposed to believe that? That fop, trying to take down the Phantom of the Opera?" He laughed madly, the echo of his voice bouncing off the acoustics of the room. He kneeled down so that they were face-to-face, no amusement in his face as he muttered darkly, "I think not, my dear..."

"Angel-" she started, reaching out once more, but she was abruptly interrupted by Erik, standing up and swiftly taking a step away from her.

"Don't call me that. I am no longer your angel," he said coldly, turning his face away from her.

A small sob escaped from Christine's mouth. "I swear it on my Father's grave, Erik!" She cried out, and the masked man turned to look at her with an expression of pure bewilderment. "He made me..." She continued, beginning to stand up. Erik turned away, still puzzled into silence. He knew how much her father mean to her...so to swear upon his grave? His thoughts were interrupted when she spoke once more to get his attention. "I have the bruises to prove it..." she whimpered, "Every time I didn't do as he would say, he'd strike me..."

Erik's head snapped back so that he was looking at Christine. "He did what?" He hissed, his golden eyes flashing in anger, yet somehow this anger didn't seem directed towards the young soprano. Nonetheless...it was frightening.

Christine backed up, slightly startled. Even when he had accused her of being with Raoul, he hadn't been this angry.

"He... He would hit me..." She whimpered, looking down at the ground.