The Darkest of Deep Obsessions

Chapter Three: Singing Lessons with Erik Destler

The simple statement had startled her at first, and she couldn't seem to bend her mind around it to grasp the meaning. She had not told him her name. And yet he had known. Christine's mind whirled to the point of making her sick as she sat there on the floor in the living room. Biting her lip until it bled, she thought of every logical explanation. Be reasonable Christine… You probably told him and didn't realize it. Perhaps. Perhaps she had… But deep down inside, she knew she hadn't.

Involving herself in dancing, she had managed to forget about the curious few words he had spoken earlier that day. She had danced until her feet ached, the whole while wishing that she owned a room with hardwood flooring so she could practice with her pointe shoes. But alas, she had to settle with carpet. The next morning she arose earlier than normal, practiced a few scales, than went back to dancing. Her mind was completely concentrated on the task at hand as she memorized and practiced almost every dance step she knew.

It wasn't until early afternoon that she stopped to have something to eat when she began to worry. She passed back and forth on the cold linoleum flooring of the kitchen as she waited for her food to heat up in the microwave. He said his name was Erik Destler. Why does that name sound familiar? Maybe he already knew my name because we've met before? She paused at this thought and shook her head. No… For surely I would remember him. I've never met a person with eyes so yellow as his. The microwave beeped and she pulled the plate of spaghetti out, setting it down on the table. Destler… Destler… No, I've heard that name before. I feel like I should know who he is. Picking up her fork she twirled it around in her fingers, staring at the piece of metal like it was the first time she had seen it.

You might have heard that name before, but not his. What's to say that you haven't met a Destler in you childhood? It's not impossible. Her sensible side reasoned. Christine sighed deeply. Destler isn't exactly a common name, like Smith. It's distinctly foreign. She insisted. And Daaé isn't? This is Canada Chris. Take a look around you. Who isn't foreign? A voice said. Glaring at her food she pushed the plate away. That's not the point! The point is I feel like I should know who he is! The name's familiar enough! But where do I know it from? The phone rang and Christine hopped out of her seat, snatching it off the receiver quickly. It might be him!

"Hello?"

"Hey Chris, its Meg if you haven't guessed already. How are you doing this afternoon hun?" Cried a way-too-cheery-sounding Meg. Christine sighed.

"Oh. Um, okay I guess?" Meg laughed into the phone.

"Wow, you don't seem too happy to see me today. What's your problem?" Christine groaned and hopped up onto the counter, letting her legs dangle over the edge.

"No, no. It's not that I'm not happy to hear from you. Trust me; it's got nothing to do with you. It's just…" She trailed off.

"Ah. Still upset over that guy who stole your phone?" Meg asked.

"No. He gave it back." Christine said absent mindedly, playing with the hem of her t-shirt. On the other end, Meg seemed to have a heart attack.

"He what!" She exclaimed. It was Christine's turn to laugh.

"He gave it back." The blonde said flatly, trying to push the issue aside.

"Where? When?" Meg pleaded, sounding overly excited about the issue.

"Yesterday. He came to my house to drop it back. We talked for a bit, and he left…" Not to mention he's now giving me singing lessons. And his name's Erik Destler. And I think he's some kind of stalker given the fact that he knows my name and where I live. Christine thought inwardly. "He's actually quite nice."

"I don't believe this! And you didn't phone me? Were you even going to tell me?" Meg asked. She was obviously quite put out.

"Well it just kind of slipped my mind yesterday." Christine confessed. And that wasn't a lie- it had slipped her mind to call Meg.

"Christine!" The danced whined.

"Meg!" Christine echoed. She sighed and glanced at the clock- it was quarter after two. That gave her just under three hours to get ready and get over to Erik's. "Look, I got to go. I'll call you later alright?"

"Ooh! Are you going out with Raoul?" Meg said. Christine frowned.

"Oh, ah, no. Actually, I was just going to go walk to the grocery store. I'm all out of food for the week." She replied hurriedly.

"In the rain?" Meg quried skeptically. Christine winced. Oops. Forgot about the rain.

"What's wrong with that? I like the rain! I do own an umbrella don't I?" Christine hissed defensively. She could almost see the ballerina throwing up her hands.

"Yes, I know! There's nothing wrong with that. Just be careful alright? I don't want you getting sick right before auditions!" Meg explained. Smiling slightly Christine hummed.

"Alright, well. I'll talk to you later. See ya." She said.

"Right. Bye Chris." With a click the line went dead. Christine sighed heavily, placing the phone back on in its place. Arching her back gracefully she let her foot slide in front of her. Pushing her weight forwards she completed a few spins before landing against the counter, a small smile plastered on her lips. Glancing once at the now slightly cold spaghetti, she picked up the plate and placed it in the sink.

"I wasn't that hungry anyways." She admitted aloud. To lazy to wash dishes, she spun once more out into the living room before leaping down the hallway towards her bedroom. Rising up onto her toes she skipped across the small room and landed in front of her wardrobe. Flinging the doors open she placed her hands on her hips. Now where have I seen this before? Dressing to impress once more are we? A little voice inside her head spoke up. Exhaling she felt her grin vanish. No, this is different. She persisted. It is, is it? How so? The voice argued. Because. It just is. Case closed. Rummaging through its contents she picked out a rather plain looking grey skirt and white blouse. A little too old don't you think? Sighing, she exchanged the outfit for a pair of black slacks and a white t-shirt. Much better.

Glancing outside at the grey skies and torrential downpour she bit her lip and snatched her jean jacket off the hook before half running into the bathroom for yet another shower. Washing quickly she jumped out, towel-drying her hair so it no longer dripped down her face and into her eyes. Donning her clothes she grabbed the towel and wiped off the foggy mirror, glad to see her reflection. Holding up her brush she studied herself in the mirror, faced with the task of trying to tame her damp curls. I'll just leave it down… He probably wouldn't notice that it's wet. I'll just blame it on the rain. Running the brush through her hair a few times to get rid of the knots, she looked at the small make-up bag on her counter. Why bother putting anything on? It'll probably just run anyways. She considered. Picking up the bottle of mascara she applied some quickly. Still. I don't want to look terrible walking in there. Surely a little mascara won't run that much. Dabbing on a bit of lip gloss she smiled.

"Perfection." She whispered. Oh really. Does it matter if you were anything less? Shrugging, she thought for a moment before shutting off the light and wandering into the kitchen to check the clock. It was already 3:30 which meant she still had another two and a half hours- less than that really. Picking up the piece of card he had given her she read the address... 1881 Dafoe Boulevard, Apartment 718. Which if I remember correctly, is on the other side of town. Way too far to walk. Opening up one of the cupboard doors, she consulted the bus schedules she had posted there. The last bus before five is 4:50. No, that's not enough time. The bus before that is… She ran her finger down the listing. 4:40. That gives me twenty minutes. Twenty minutes to go there on a bus, plus walk to where he lives? Sighing she ran her finger down the list once more. I'll take the 4:30 bus. I seriously doubt it's going to take more than twenty minutes to get there, plus that gives me ten minutes to walk from the corner to his house.

Letting the door shut with a bang she went back into her room, pulling her worn and fading denim book bag out from under her bed. Grinning sardonically she threw her cell phone into one of the side pockets, remembering sourly what happened last time. Leaning over, she pulled her desk drawer open and grabbed her wallet, opening it up to check that she had at least a bit of cash and her bus card. Pulling out her card she placed it on the edge of the desk and put her wallet in the side pocket along with the cell phone. Stifling a yawn, she pulled on her watch and left the room, her keys and bus card in hand.

Deciding to make use of her minutes she drifted into the living room, sitting down at the computer. 40 minutes to go. Turning on the screen she waited as it connected to the internet, Meg's voice drifting through her head. Dial-up? Why waste your money on that? Christine remembered laughing at her. It's not like I use the internet that much. A few hours a week to check emails, maybe talk to a few people… It's not that important in my life. And it wasn't. While most people spent hours on their computers, Christine never found time to do such a thing.

She was always spending her time dancing, singing, going on walks, and working. Minus the working bit these past few weeks. Christine recalled quitting her job at the beginning of October so she could spend all her time practicing for the auditions. She had only worked at the local grocery store, so it wasn't as though she had quit something major. Plus she had enough money that she had saved up over the years to get her through a few months. And if I make this, I get money for performing. Not much, mind you, but it's not like I need a lot of money anyways. I can always move into a small apartment, like Meg. It wouldn't be a big deal. While she enjoyed the space and the privacy of knowing she could sing as loud as she wanted and someone wouldn't hear her, it wouldn't be a large loss to her.

Chimes sounded and Christine turned her attention to the computer screen- where apparently she had mail and a new contact to her messenger. Opening her inbox she glanced down the list. Junk mail, junk mail, email from Meg, junk mail, email from Raoul, junk mail… Frowning slightly she closed the screen and checked her messenger list. AngelOfMusic. Her frown deepened and she accepted the invitation. Probably just someone from the theater. Maybe Meg gave my screen name to them and forgot to tell me. Shrugging her shoulders she scanned through her mail before disconnecting the internet and shutting the computer off. Standing up, she brushed her pants off and glanced at her watch. 20 Minutes. I'll leave in ten minutes than.

Sitting down on the couch, she let her bag fall in her lap, fingering the faded strap. This is stupid. I barely know this guy, and yet I'm going to go into his house? She couldn't contain the snort she uttered at the bare reality of the situation. We've been through this Chris. Who cares? Biting her lip she looked out the window at the falling rain, her stomach doing flip flops. I do. Oh God, I do. And I'm dead scared. Closing her eyes she leaned back, the sound of falling water lulling her to sleep. Little did she know that the time was slowly slipping away from her.

-

The distant sound of a telephone amidst a rolling crash of thunder sent a jolt through her body, waking her up from her dreamless sleep. Her bag had slid off her lap, her jean jacket twisting around her arms and torso. Standing up she righted her clothing before checking her watch. 5:24. Christine felt her mouth go dry. The telephone rang again and she looked at her watch again in disbelief.

"5:24? Oh God, tell me this isn't happening!" She cried. "What's Erik going to say? He'll think I ditched him or… or I don't know!" Covering her face to hide her frustration she ran to the kitchen to pick up the ringing phone.

"Hello?" She asked dejectedly.

"Hello, Christine?" Blinking a few times she coughed. It's him! Say something!

"E-Erik?"

"It's after five, if you haven't noticed." He drawled. Christine blushed furiously.

"I… I know. I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! I was all ready to go and everything and I was just waiting for the time to pass and I fell asleep! I feel so bad I just…" Sighing deeply she leaned back against the counter, pressing a hand to her forehead.

"That's alright. I'll be going then. Have a nice time Christine." He said quietly. Christine gasped.

"What? No lesson? I-I though-" She began only to be cut off by Erik.

"No, you made it quite apparent that you do not wish to have a singing lesson." The state of finality in his voice made her heart sink.

"I didn't mean… I fell asleep, honestly! Please, if you'd just give me twenty minutes or so I can just catch the bus and come over..." She said, regretting that she had ever fallen asleep deeply.

"And who is to say that you are still wanted?" Erik spat coldly. Christine could barely contain her whimper of disappointment.

"I… I just thought…" She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes as she struggled not to cry. What a way to screw things up Chris.

"Well you thought wrong." Christine winced, half expecting him to hang up, but he did nothing of the sort. Wiping her eyes furiously she stared down at her feet feeling much like a school child who had just been scolded.

"I'm sorry Erik." She whispered. Her words were met by silence for a moment. Christine closed her eyes, wishing that she had never fallen asleep.

"Do you really want me to teach you?" Erik asked, a strange note of bewilderment hinting in his voice.

"Very much so." She replied. She could hear him sighing on the other end.

"Fine then. Be at my apartment by six and no later." Christine's heart leapt and she smiled slightly.

"Alright." She said quickly. Without another word, the line went dead and Christine was treated to a dial-tone once more. Hanging up, she leaned on the counter trying to calm her shaky breaths. This is stupid, why am I crying? She thought bitterly. Hurrying back into the living room she grabbed her bag, flinging it over her shoulder, before snatching up her keys and bus card. Locking the door, she glanced down at her watch. Two minutes before the bus arrives. I'm never going to make it. Pocketing her keys in one of the pockets of her jean jacket, she lifted her hand above her head to prevent herself from getting drenched in the rainy onslaught.

Rushing down the driveway to the sidewalk she shook her head. I'm not going to make it, but I have no choice. I have to be on that bus or I'm not going to be there within a half hour. Rounding the corner, Christine could see people huddled in and around the bus shelter at the end of the street. Just beyond that, should could make out the large red and white shape of the bus just coming down the street. Blinking a few times, she swallowed.

"Shit." Swearing was something that she rarely did, for her father had always taught her that it was unladylike to do so. Once in a while, she aloud herself to slip. Holding onto her book bag to prevent it from slipping off her shoulder, Christine sprinted off as far as her dancer's legs could carry her. Come on Chris, come on! Sucking in a deep breath, she raced down the sidewalk, wincing as she hit one particularly large puddle, a wave of cold water spraying down her front. Normally she would have been upset by the fact, but at the moment she couldn't care less. She needed to catch that bus. Christine was only a couple houses away as it pulled into the bus stop and people began to pile on.

"No, no, no!" She hissed, forcing herself to pick up speed. Almost there- I can make it! Just a bit faster! Pushing herself farther, she crossed the driveway of the last house and fell against the doors of the bus which has just closed seconds before. "Wait!" The bus driver looked down at her and smirked. Oh, just let me on! She pleaded silently. For a terrifying moment, she thought that the driver would pull away, but he instead slid the door open.

"Hop on kid." He said with a grin. Christine let out a long held breath and pulled herself up the two stairs, flashing her damp bus card to the man. He nodded and closed the door while Christine stared down at the heavily packed isle. No, she definitely didn't feel like trying to cram her way in. Leaning against the stair rail, she sighed deeply, looking out the front window as the rain splattered against the road.

"You look out of breath." He commented. Christine turned her head slightly to get a better look at him. Clad in blue, the dark man had black frizzy hair that stuck out everywhere. It reminded her of her own hair sometimes.

"Hey, give me a break! I just ran a block and a half!" She protested. He laughed.

"How far are you going?" Christine turned her gaze back to the window.

"Second stop. Corner of Dafoe and Rossland." The driver chuckled at that.

"Ah, the Ritz of West End. Looking for an apartment?" Christine couldn't help but smile.

"No, I'm going to see someone." Her statement earned a deeper chuckle.

"A lover perhaps?" Christine blushed darkly. Erik? My lover? Never!

Just a friend. Of course. Just a friend! I barely know him, so he's not exactly a friend… Oh whatever.

"N-no! He's just a friend." She stuttered. He hummed softly before opening the door. Christine pressed herself against the rail to allow a stream of people to get out.

"So do you ride much? I noticed you had a bus card." He queried as he turned a corner. Christine nodded slightly.

"I don't own a car. I usually have to walk or take the bus everywhere. Occasionally I ask for a ride from friends, but I don't like to do that." She explained.

"Ah, I see. I don't think I've ever seen you on this bus before." He commented.

"I haven't really had the need to take this bus. There aren't many stops on this route. I've used it once or twice but…" Above a small park, Christine could see a large group of apartment buildings towering over.

"Will I be seeing more of you now that you're coming to see this friend of yours?" He asked innocently. Christine smiled.

"Of course! You don't expect me to walk all this way do you?" She teased. The driver chuckled. He pulled into the bus shelter at the side of the street, turning to look at her.

"Daniel Lefevre." Christine descended one step.

"Christine Daaé." Lefevre nodded before smiling once more. Christine returned it quickly before dashing down the steps, her feet landing on the cold pavement. Various people were walking along the grey pavement, minding their own business. Unlike other parts of the town, the curbside was free of trash and litter. Chewing on her bottom she looked at the number on the building in front of her. 1872 Dafoe Boulevard. Glancing at the number on the apartment just down the street a bit, she sighed. Okay then, we go right. Covering her head the best she could with her arms, Christine set off down the sidewalk at a quick page, the rain coming down heavier than it had when she left the house. Quicker than she thought, Christine arrived at the arrived at the apartment whose number read 1881. Shivering slightly as she passed through the glass doors, Christine groaned as she was faced with the intercom system.

Well I suppose the logical thing to do would be to buzz Erik's room and ask him to let me in right? Right. Chuckling slightly she stood in front of the long list of names posted on the wall, each one of them with a number beside it. I probably just have to hit the pound or number sign and then his room number. But it never hurts to check. She easily found Erik's named and smirked to herself before picking up the phone receiver, pressing the pound button and then punching in 718. It beeped loudly in her ear a few times before a deep baritone answered.

"Christine, my dear, right on time. Come on up." Before Christine could say anything, he had hung up and there was a loud buzz- the door was open. Wanting nothing more than to turn around and go back home, she pushed herself to walk forwards, through the buzzing door, and across the short spance of hallway to the elevator. Trying to calm the butterflies that furiously fluttered in her stomach she pressed the seventh floor button and let the elevator carry her up. Relax Christine. Breathe… that's right. Inhale- two three four- exhale. Inhale… exhale. You can do this! It's not like your auditioning or anything. He wants to help you, not hurt you! As she got off the elevator, she paused for a moment, a feeling of fear washing over her. What if he doesn't want to help me! What if he wants to rape me! What am I doing? Her hand reached out to press the elevator button to go back down but she redrew quickly, shaking her head. No. Chris, I can do this. He doesn't want to rape me. Her voice of reason tried to counter her optimistic thoughts. He doesn't? Christine inhaled sharply. No. He doesn't.

Hurrying down the corridor to Erik's apartment, she stood poised at his door, her fist raised as though she was about to knock. The butterflies in her stomach had obviously mated and multiplied, she thought grimly. Biting down hard on her tongue, she leaned forwards and knocked softly on the door. It was moments before Erik's face appeared in the doorway- or at least what she could see of it- looking dark and solemn dressed in black from head to toe. He glanced down the hall way once than reached forwards, capturing her wrist in one of his boney hands and pulling her into the apartment, shutting the door firmly behind her with a snap. Christine took a brief glance at her surroundings before she was pulled through the small foyer into what appeared to be a living room.

"I will not tolerate lateness. If you wish for me to teach you, I expect you to be at my door on time." He said harshly. Christine flinched at his voice.

"Sorry- I didn't mean to be late! I fell asleep-" She began to protest, but Erik cut her off.

"Then the best thing to do would be to get more sleep would it not?" He said coldly. Christine bit her lip slightly, moving her hand to brush a tendril of wet hair out of her face. Her eyes widened when she realized that Erik still had a strong hold on her wrist. Casting her gaze to the floor self consciously she shrugged her shoulders at his question.

"I suppose." She replied quietly. Suddenly she could feel her heart beating in her throat as she stood there in silence under Erik scrutinizing gaze. Awkward moment? Hell yes.

"You're wet." Christine couldn't help but snort at that. Looking up sheepishly through a certain of wet curls she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Well obviously. It's raining." It was Erik's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"You walked here?" She laughed softly.

"No! Are you crazy! I took the bus, seeing as how I don't own a car and couldn't get a ride. But it doesn't excuse the fact that I still had to walk to bus stop, than get off and walk a block to your apartment." She explained. Erik shook his head and let got of her wrist.

"Stay here." Was all he said before going through the door to her right. A moment later he appeared in front of her holding up a plain black t-shirt. Correction- Navy blue. He handed it to her awkwardly, gesturing in the direction of another door. "Go put this on. Unfortunately I can't do anything about your pants, but it's the best I can do." Christine studied him for a moment.

"No, no! I'm fine! Really it's just a bit of rain! I'm not going to melt you know." She protested. Erik raised his eyebrow again, a weird look on his face.

"Christine you're wearing a white shirt. Now I insist that you put this on before you catch a cold. I wouldn't want to ruin that pretty voice of yours." He replied, his voice some what strained. Christine felt her cheeks flush as she looked down at her white shirt- her now apparently white see-through shirt- which was soaked all down the front. Well that's embarrassing. No wonder that bus driver was so friendly. Next time it rains, I'm never wearing a white shirt again. Pulling her jacket to cover her front, she accepted the shirt graciously and walked stiffly towards what she assumed was the bathroom. Less than five minutes later, she stood in the door way, her hair dried somewhat and Erik's shirt draping down to her knees.

"I hope you don't mind… I kind of used the towel. My hair was dripping everywhere!" She said. Erik stood up from the chair by the door, taking her jacket and book bag.

"No, not at all." He replied. Christine watched as he went to place them in the foyer. Small entry room more like. Casting a glance at her surroundings, she surveyed the small room. It was moderately decorated- nothing like some of the bachelor pads she had been to. But then again, this is the "Ritz" after all. Everything seemed to be centered around a large upright piano which sat along one of the walls. Upon closer inspection she realized that it was an electric. And expensive looking one at that. A comfy looking armchair sat beside it, laden with stacks of sheet music. In fact, there were whole piles of sheet music sitting on top of the piano and beside it on the floor. Obviously the guy loves his music, no? She thought jokingly. Chewing on her bottom lip out of habit, she moved towards the double glass doors that led to the balcony. Christine pressed a hand against the glass, straining to look over the balustrade. But her view was blocked by another apartment building across the street.

"Not a very impressive view as that of some of the apartments Toronto, but I suppose it doesn't matter." Christine spun around to see Erik standing close behind her, his arms across his chest. She smiled grimly.

"I'd kill to live down town!" Erik chuckled slightly at that.

"I wouldn't disagree. Perhaps one day in the near future I shall buy a town house by the lake and move there." He said slowly. Christine's grin widened.

"The lake is so beautiful. Have you ever been along the boardwalk?" She asked politely, her interest gaining every moment. Erik smiled slightly.

"Yes, I have. On several occasions in fact. It's a nice place to spend time and just think without distractions." Christine hugged herself at his words.

"I know what you mean. When I was just a child, my father used to take me there all the time." She said quietly. "After my mom died though… things changed." Erik looked at her seriously.

"I'm sorry." She sighed

"It doesn't matter. It's just over ten years now… I've learned to live with it." There was a moment of silence before Erik looked up at her.

"Do you want to practice now?" He asked almost timidly. Christine blinked twice and gave him a shy smile.

"Let's." Erik crossed the room in a great stride and sat down at the piano, clicking a button on the side. Christine followed to stand behind him.

"Do you play the piano?" He quried. Christine laughed.

"A bit. I used to be in Conservatory, grade four, but I was so bad at it I eventually gave up." Erik nodded.

"Those fools think they know everything. Give them a fancy name like 'Royal Ontario Conservatory' and they're on top of the world." Christine chuckled. "Do you play any other instruments?" She snorted at that.

"Me, play and instrument? Are you kidding? I can act, I can sing, I can dance, but play an instrument? Yea right. I'm no band geek." Erik turned to look at her over his shoulder.

"A triple threat hien?" He said raising an eyebrow. Christine wrinkled her nose.

"Hien?"

"It's the French equivalent of eh." It was her turn to raise her eyebrows.

"You're French?"

"Québécois actually." Christine snickered.

"Ouais? Un Quebecker hien? Tu n'as pas un accent." Erik smirked.

"It's vous not tu." He challenged. She blinked.

"Isn't vous for like… a bunch of people?" Erik nodded.

"Yes, but vous can also be used in a formal way- talking to a teacher, someone you hardly know, or someone older than you. You should only use the pronoun 'tu' if the person is a friend." He explained. Christine rolled her eyes.

"Well excusez-moi! I didn't take French after grade nine, and I barely passed that." Erik raised an eyebrow.

"Only up to grade nine? I would have thought it would be taught all through high school." Christine shook her head.

"Nope. It's an optional course after that. And only very brainy people take it."

"I suppose you aren't a brainy person?" He suggested. Christine laughed.

"No! Haven't you noticed the blonde hair yet?" She joked, pointing a finger at her head. Erik offered her a ghost of a smile and pointed at the space beside the piano.

"Stand here." Christine smiled and took her place quickly, staring at her new teacher with admiration. What if I go to sing an embarrass myself to all end? What if I croak? New fears began springing up in the back of her mind, a queasy feeling returning to her stomach. Oh shush Chris. You'll do fine. She assured herself.

"If you wish to become my student I expect that there should be several rules." He said slowly. Christine nodded.

"For starters, I expect you be here on time when I say so. Lateness- whatever the excuse- will not be tolerated." She felt herself flush at that. "Secondly, I expect you to practice for at least three to four hours a day." Christine gapped at him.

"Three to four hours? But what about the theater? I'm going to be really busy with that, plus I'd like to get a job! And then there's always my life!" She cried exasperated. Erik raised an eyebrow.

"If you wish to get anywhere in life, there must be discipline. If you want to become a Prime Donna, singing will always come before everything else- it will become you life! I say three to four hours a day, and if it is not kept up then you will find a teacher somewhere else. I am perfectly sure that you will not find another teacher out there who will help you become such greatness. Are you all clear on that? Three to four hours a day, and if you do not complete that, I will know. Don't try me Christine. You will find that I can be a very mean man if you do not obey me." He challenged his voice hard and cold. Christine scoffed at him.

"Yes sir." She retorted, glaring at him. Erik stared coldly back, but made no remark of her mocking. Perhaps I should find another teacher. I'm sure there's someone else out there.

"Last of all, and this is probably the most important rule; you sing for no one but me." Christine gasped.

"What? But how am I supposed to do that? If you mean to say that I can't join the theater-" Erik cut her off.

"You can audition if you wish- in fact I am requiring that you audition- but sing as you always have. When you sing for anyone but me or yourself, forget all I have taught you." Christine raised her eyebrows. Is this man absurd?

"Then what's the point of you helping me anyways?" She quried.

"Do you want to become a Prima Donna?" He countered. Christine nodded.

"Of course." She said, still staring at him in disbelief.

"There will come a time when you're going to step on that stage, open your mouth and astonish the world with your angel's voice. People will stare with their mouths hanging agape, wondering why you had hidden your beautiful talent from them all along. It will be perfect- so perfect that it seems inhumanly possible to do so. There will be an uproar, you'll be praised. It will be equal to a near miracle. But none of this will happen if you strut around, your singing obviously improving. You will be cast aside. For now, trust me and listen to what I am saying." He reached forwards and took her small hands within his own. "Christine, I only think with the best intentions. Just trust me with this." Was he pleading? Christine blinked, letting her eyes dart away from his own. Who was this man? She asked silently and she became all-too aware of the weight of his shirt hanging off her shoulders and the way her hands felt in his own. She felt herself blushing as she let out a horse whisper-

"Alright." Erik let her hands dropped and turned back towards the piano, setting his fingers on the keys.

"I believe that is it then. We shall start with warm-ups. I'll play a scale and you hum along. Got it?" Christine nodded, still feeling quite flushed. "C major." He said before starting off. She swallowed once, moistening her vocal chords before humming along in the one octave scale. As they moved from C minor to D Major, Christine watched his fingers as they slid over the keys with ease, barely touching. Like he's caressing- not playing! She wrinkled her nose as they climbed higher and higher up they keyboard. Maybe I should have stuck with Conservatory! Her mind joked.

"Excellent. As with any instrument, warming up is a quite important task. And what a better way to warm up than with scales." Christine snorted.

"I hate scales almost as much as I hate theory." She commented dryly. Erik chuckled.

"As tiresome as they may be, scales are important. It's good practice." Christine rolled her eyes.

"But of course, sir." The man before her smirked before flipping through several sheets of music beside the piano. Christine watched in curious amusement as he set it glanced over it, than handed it to her. Looking down at the short song in her hands she bit her lip.

"Um… don't you need this?" She asked. Erik shook his head, his fingers setting themselves on the black and white keys.

"This should be a fairly easy song for you to sing. You're a mezzo-soprano, correct?" He queried. Christine nodded.

"I'm more on the alto side, but a mezzo none the less." Studying the piece before her she sighed.

"You're joking!" She said flatly. Erik's eyebrow rose.

"What's wrong?" He asked. "It's a simple song, not all too stressing. I'm sure you know it." He commented. The blonde groaned.

"But I hate this song! Despise and loath this song! Can't I sing something else?" She whined. It was quite obvious that Erik did not like whining for he shot her a reproachful glare before turning back to the piano.

"Beggars can't be choosers Christine. There's a four bar intro than you begin." He said icily. Christine ground her teeth together before nodding once, staring down at her sheet music with a burning dispassion. Counting her four bars she inhaled deeply before beginning.

"Child of the wilderness, born into emptiness…" Without even looking up once, Christine spat out the opposing song like venom. I hate this song, I hate this song, I hate it! Can't he just choose something else? "Beggars can't be choosers." Sounds like something like Meg would say. Pausing at a rest she scuffed her foot against the carpet. Why did I agree to these 'lessons' in the first place? What were you thinking Chris? As the final notes died off, the singer bit her lip and looked up to find the man with yellow eyes looking at her. She swallowed thickly, offering him a sheepish smile.

"So?" She asked hoarsely. Erik studied her for a second before replying,

"You could have done better." Christine's smile vanished. Not the answer she was hoping for.

"Well sorry! I told you I'm nothing better than a chorus girl! What did you expect?" She hissed.

"I didn't say that. I said you could have done better. Your voice has the quality it needs but lacks the passion… Frankly my dear your voice is as dry as burnt toast." He interjected. Christine struggled to keep a straight face at his last words.

"Well... I'll try harder next time." She retorted. Erik stood up from the piano, gesturing towards the door.

"I do hope so. But if you'd excuse me, I believe it is time for you to go." Christine stared at him blankly.

"Go? What? Now? But I just got here!" She shivered as his yellow eyes- Hazel eyes. she reminded herself- caught her own.

"But if you remember, I asked you to come at five. You, however, due to certain circumstances arrived forty minutes late. I am severely sorry but I have places to go." He said harshly before leading her towards the front entrance of the apartment. Christine groaned softly.

"Please, just a few more minutes? I'm really sorry!" She pleaded desperately. But Erik would hear nothing of it. He passed her her wet jacket and shirt as well as her book bag.

"I doubt my boss would like that very much. Now if you'd excuse me-" There was a thud and a click and before Christine realized what had happened she found herself blinking open-mouthed at the door in front of her. Taking a step back she shut her mouth firmly.

Well, She thought as she began to retreat the way she came. That went well.

-

WOW. You have no clue how incredibly hard this chapter was to write! But it's done! Forgive me for the extensive lateness but… I've always had a fear of third chapters! But expect chapter four to be out soon- you can hold me to this one! Or else Erik cookies for everyone!

Thank-you to my luverly reviewers, you have no idea how much your enthusiasm helped!