Hello all! Thank you so very very much for the reviews! I love all of you very dearly. And thus, I am excited to begin the beginning of the end of our dear story. I am going to begin to wrap things up, and hopefully, to explain everything. I'm excited, although I do have to admit that I am surprised about how this story developed. Like I said previously, everything is going to be drastically different from here on out. I hope you like it! Really, I write for your pleasure! Please, please, enjoy, and if you feel so inclined, please leave a review! I'm excited in this chapter to present something new in the history of ETIB... two italicized parts! Enjoy! Love always, IceCliff.

And so, I present Chapter 19.

The man sat in his seat stiffly, uncomfortable being surrounded by so many unfamiliar people. He was trapped in a cage, surrounded by the metal bars of a secret that was held wholly within himself. He sat next to a small white window, feeling the pressure of what had happened beating down on him, forcing him to remember who he had left behind, and why. A woman sat beside him, buckled into her seat, asleep. The plane had been in flight only three hours. He felt acutely the boundaries of his prison, felt completely isolated within his own soul, knowing what was and therefore what couldn't be.

He knew why the seat next to him remained unoccupied. It had been his own decision, but only because he knew, inevitably, what would have come from bringing her with him. The man looked across into the isle where two dark-skinned children sat playing, with their mother looking on fondly. A mother. A wife. Her husband sat attentively, keeping an eye on his family and his book. A family. A marriage. The man examined the smooth facial structures of these two lovers. Love. Beauty. The twain should never be separated, the man thought to himself. And that is why he could not bring her, why it would have destroyed everything if she knew… could he take the risk that she would understand the unique makeup of his personal hell? She was so fragile, so innocent, so lovely… like an angel. He would come back for her, when the time was right. He would come back.

The man sighed. And when he came back, he would have a plan. He would be beautiful to her. He just needed to find a way to do it.

Two men, formerly unacquainted, sat in relative indifference across from each other at a plan, dreary table in a drab diner.

"It's been about a day since she left."

"Yes."

"Do you think she's all right?"

"Is it any concern of yours, anymore?"

The blond man glared. "Of course it is. Especially after what I've found out about that monster."

The Iranian glowered. "Do not call him a monster, you have no right—"

The blond put up his hands. "Fine, forget it. I don't care about him. I care about her."

"She has left you."

"Because you led her right to him."

There was silence for a time. Each man found reasons to ignore the other; this one examined his fingernails, the other focused on the cars passing by the window. Finally, one of them spoke.

"I am going to find her."

"If he does not wish to be found, he will never be found."

"I'm not talking about him. I'm talking about her."

"Yes." The other agreed. "That's what I said."

Bells played. I blinked up into consciousness. Across from me sat a very handsome, very intricate carved monkey swathed in Persian robes, playing the cymbols. I stared at it, fascinated. Soon it began to play a little tune, a charming, lilting set of notes that urged me a little more towards happiness. After a moment, the monkey stopped playing, and it suddenly occurred to me that I had no concept of where I was.

What had happened? I became aware of a pressing headache right behind my eyes. I rolled them around a bit in my head and massaged my temples, trying to ease the pressure. The monkey picked up his little tune again, and for the first time I realized that he was sitting on a small table which barely touched the edge of the bed that I was lying on. I dragged my fingers across the sheets, enamored of the soft cloth and lovely symmetric pattern. But whose sheets were they? I sat up suddenly, and all of the sudden my eyes clouded over and I had to gently lower myself back down, keeping my hand on my forehead.

What a head… am I hungover? But when was the last time I went drinking? I hated bars, hated the idea of being around so many people, the chance of having someone see my burns… My gaze traced the walls of the room, looking for clues. I sat up, more gracefully this time, and swung my legs over the bedside.

"Hello?" I called.

Silence.

Standing, I picked up the monkey, examining it from all sides. It certainly was a beautiful piece of art… oh. I blinked, and my mind was suddenly flooded with so many images that I was forced back onto the bed by the pressure of my own memory. The artist had carved a small yin-yang into the bottom of the music box. Of course. Erik. My stomach was suddenly queasy. Erik. Oh my G-d… Erik. I didn't realize how hard I was clutching the monkey until my fingers started to hurt, and then I dropped it quite suddenly, hardly hearing its muffled thud on the carpet. I tried as hard as I could to keep my eyes open, for when closed all I could see, all I could imagine was that face… glaring at me from the depths of hell…

Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes and I tried fiercely to keep them back. Oh, Erik. I still loved him, didn't I? I had been so shocked, so disgusted to be found holding what I thought to be a human being's face in my hands… but I didn't care what he looked like. G-d, didn't I know what it was like to be judged on your outward appearance? I knew my Erik, I loved him… nothing would change that. But he had been so frightening that day… that day. That day? I stopped in my thoughts and attempted to backtrack. I was here, wherever here was, whenever now was. And the last place I remembered was being there, then, with Erik. How much time had passed? Was Erik still here?

I stepped out of bed for the second time and over the fallen monkey. Not knowing where it would take me, I slowly turned the handle on my door knob, relieved to find it unlocked. It opened into a breezy blue hallway, with three doors on each side, each door closed, and each sporting a sketch of a rocky oceanside. There was pressing silence.

"Erik?" I called out, uncertainly.

I walked down the hallway, past all of the drawings, which were all signed with a yin-yang. Where was I? Did Erik own a house that I didn't know of? Was I even still in New Hampshire?

"Erik?" I asked again.

The staircase came upon me very suddenly. I stopped short of the landing, looking down the staircase into the foyer, and feeling suddenly faint again.

Of course. I did know this place. I'd known this place since my earliest childhood memories… But why? Why would he bring me back here, of all places? I spun around me, trying to find other familiar things… but everything was totally different, painted over, re-carpeted, re-tiled… had Erik done this? Made-over my childhood home? To what end?

I slowly made my why down the stairs, knowing with great certainty the only room where I would find Erik. I crossed the kitchen, traversed the dining hall, and was before the door to the music room. My mind would not go passed that door. Everything that had shaped and defined my life up until this point was somehow connected to that room… would he have re-done this one too? Or perhaps left it, just as it was, with my father's blood stains covering the piano?

I couldn't do this! Here I was, home again! Home! With no Papa, no sense of how I had gotten there or why… why did he bring me here?

"I can't do it, Erik!" I screamed, battling tears and losing rapidly. I sank down against the wall, lowering myself onto the ground, finding myself in the same position I had left the house in, broken, crying, on the floor, mourning a loss… "Do you hear me? I can't go in there!"

The door swung open, and I found myself falling backwards until I hit a pair of legs.

"You will come inside now."

I shook my head. "I can't, Erik." I whispered "The things that happened in this room…" More tears clogged my voice, and I didn't care to clear my throat. Never in a thousand years did I ever expect to be back in this house… Papa… oh Papa!

Rough hands grabbed my arms. "Come now, Christine. This room can't be any scarier than the monster who beckons you."

I shook my head again, wiping tears from my eyes. Why did he keep going on about being a monster? He dropped me unceremoniously on the floor, and I twisted to get sight of him. My heart jumped, and I had to bite my lip to keep myself from gasping. There it was again, that face, staring at me, speaking of death and darkness, with two, piteous, hellish eye sockets, each a golden ball of fire…

I swallowed and blinked quickly.

"Oh, Erik…"

"Yes, you remember me, don't you? You remember what you saw, in the graveyard?"

I struggled to stand up. He had taken a seat on the piano bench, but I was hesitant to approach a bench that would forever be burned in my memory as my father's dying place.

"See, even now you hesitate to approach me, where in the past you would have sat next to me, and smiled upon me! You, Christine Daae, are a hypocrite, and Sir was very, very wrong about you."

His rhetoric shocked me. He hardly sounded like himself, like the Erik I feel in love with. His speech patterns were different, the lilt of his voice had changed permanently… where had my Erik gone? Had he fallen over the brink of madness? Worse, had I pushed him? "That's not at all why I'm not coming there, Erik," I said. "You know that, you know what happened on that bench."

"Nonsense! A bench is a bench, is it not? What, do you think I have no feelings? Yes, with a face like this it would have been a blessing! I remember what happened! I was there! I heard his dying words, on this very bench! But you lie, Christine, using your father's death to cover up your real fear of me… your despicable, selfish fear…"

"Stop this, Erik. I never said anything like that-"

"You didn't have to!" He glared at me from the bench, and I took a hesitant step forward. "I saw it in your eyes… Erik saw it in your face, before you fainted. You feared him… you thought him a monster, you thought him hideous! You don't love me anymore… you can't, not now that you know… but you promised me, Christine, and you will never break that promise, not ever…"

"Don't be ridiculous-" What was wrong with him? He must know that I didn't care about his face! Why wouldn't he listen to me? His speeches were directed at me, not to me… he didn't hear a word that I spoke. Frustrated, I stood directly before him. He looked up at me, seething.

"You think I'm ridiculous? Do you? Erik knows! Erik knows everything! He sees and hears everything! Oh, you will soon learn that, Christine. You can never leave me, now that you know. I will keep you here with me, in this house that I created for us… I created it out of love... don't you see how death and fear can spawn love? But no more, it is of no importance. For soon we fly to Paris."

I blinked, and held on to the corner of the piano for support.

"Paris?" I asked, my breathing a little uneven. "Erik… Paris?"

"Yes. You will sing there, at the Opera Garnier. You promised me you would sing. And so you are going to sing."

I shook my head slowly. "I promised you I would sing, yes, and I will still sing if I have you beside me, but… Paris? So soon?"

"Yes. I have decided. And how sweetly you act, still, around me, trying to win my good graces. Well my dear, you won't have to worry about me being beside you. I shall always be beside you."

I closed my eyes and sat down next to him, ignoring the voice in my head that reminded me of what had occurred there. I needed to be on face level with him. I stared into his eyes.

"You know I'm not acting. I've never acted with you."

Erik scoffed, turning his gaze away from me.

I pulled his face back towards me, touching for the first time that awful, rotting dark flesh.

I swallowed quickly. "Listen to me. Hear me. Am I not the same girl you sang to in the Carmel Opera House? I loved you then, Erik. I loved you so much I thought my heart would explode. And I love you now. Can't you see that?"

Erik stared at me. His eyes, soft and golden, seemed to hold an infinite amount of pain. I couldn't understand… hadn't he heard me? I loved him! He pulled his face away from me, looking down onto the keys of the piano. I saw him roll his shoulders back to relieve tension, and I thought, yes, finally, everything will calm down now…

Then he began to shake his head.

"But there was the boy…" He whispered.

"No, Erik. No."

"Yes. The boy you were going to marry."

"I was never going to marry him."

"You lie!" He stood up suddenly, sending the bench flying and me with it. I stared, shocked, from the ground.

"Erik!" I no longer recognized the man I loved! Not in body, not in spirit… where was my loving Angel?

He stood over me, menacing and angry.

"If you love me as you say, you will keep your promise."

"Of course, Erik, that's what I keep telling you-" I held out one hand, hoping he might help me up, but he refused it.

"You will help fulfill Sir's hopes."

I nodded. "Of course I will, he's my own father-" I began to get up myself, but then he spoke one last time.

"You will go upstairs, change into the dress hanging in your closet, and marry me this evening."

I blinked repeatedly. My brain duly noted that this was the second marriage proposal I had received in two days. Then it kicked into gear again. My Angel, my loving Erik… was forcing me to marry him? What sort of twisted logic was flying through his brain? How could I get through to him?

"No, Erik. I can't, not like this."

"You do not have a choice."

The physical pressure of his voice scared me into submission.

"We will be married this evening. And then we will fly to Paris, and you will sing as Christine Daae Destler." He paused, almost imperceptibly, as that name floated across the room, wrapped in the beautiful music that was his voice, and stood as witnesses against both of us, against the farce of a marriage we were about to perform. "Christine Daae Destler," he whispered again. We stared at each other for the longest moment, and then the warmth I had dared to glimpse in his eyes was gone, and he burst from the room, slamming the door behind him, and leaving me to my jumbled thoughts.

I was not surprised to find that the dress fit, or even that Erik had included a veil and shoes and a bouquet. As I zipped up the back of my dress, effectively closing out the rest of the world, I began to go numb along every nerve ending. My mind shut down and stopped thinking. All I knew was that I was going to marry Erik in several hours, and that would be the end of my life as I had known it. Forever.

I arranged the veil around my curls, not bothering to do anything with my hair but let it down from the ponytail. This wasn't my dream wedding; there would be no photographer, no crowd of friends to watch… I didn't even consider makeup. I slipped into the white pumps, and turned to look at myself in the mirror.

"Oh…" I reached out a hand, connecting with my reflected self. I looked… beautiful. It was so wrong… maybe if I stepped through that glass I would find my real reality? The one where I was still deformed, and yet my Erik was there? Loving, kind, and Angelic? I flexed my fingers against the glass, and my reflection stared at our touching palms. She looked into my eyes and stared hard, trying to understand what was happening to me.

"I don't know," we said to each other, shrugging. "I really don't know…"

There was a knock at my door, and my reflection turned away suddenly, facing back into her own world, where everything made sense.

"Yes?"

"It is me. May I come in? It is almost time to depart."

I sighed. "It's not locked, Erik, and if I had said no, would that have stopped you?" I turned back to the mirror, but no longer had that connection. She wasn't a friend; she didn't understand… she was just a trick of the light. I saw Erik enter the room, and I started playing with random strands of my hair.

"Yes?" I asked again.

Erik did not answer. He stood in the middle of my room, staring at me through the mirror. We met eyes. He was wearing his mask again, and it was a little easier for me to trick myself into thinking that he was my Erik, my real Angel, and that it was our wedding day… oh, Erik, oh Angel… I take thee to be my lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, in joy and in sorrow… until death do us part… I closed my eyes for a millisecond, imagining that wonderful world in which I was married to Erik, and he loved me, unconditionally… me, with all of my faults and deformities… and I loved him, wholly and absolutely… and we would sing together, for the rest of time, all by ourselves, and we would swoon away with delight… I wanted that. I had always wanted that, since I knew how in love with him I was… how without him I could not survive… and yet, death had parted us. The death of that part of him that was my angel. The death that was his real face. The death, quite soon, of my innocence…

I opened my eyes and he was still standing there, looking at me. His hands were clenched into tight fists, and his whole frame was incredibly rigid. His eyes were locked on mine.

"Christine…"

His voice floated across the soft fabric of my dress, giving me goosebumps. I tried to ignore it as hard as I could… that soft, deep, sensual voice…

Suddenly he was directly behind me, and the two of us appeared in the mirror, beautiful, radiant beings, swathed in black and white only, an angel and a devil… His hands creeped along the sides of my arms, sweeping over my shoulders, his lips grazing the side of my neck. My eyelids fluttered.

"Christine," he whispered, "you are so beautiful. A real, living bride… your beauty makes the angels weep…"

Angels… I missed my angel more than anything… I loved hearing him speak like this, so kind and loving.

"Erik," I whispered in response, "I love you so much…"

And swiftly the moment was over; Erik withdrew his hands and pulled several steps away from me. His face was blank. I turned to face him, sick of the illusions of reflection.

"I'd prefer no lies from now on."

I sighed in utter frustration. What was there left for me to say to him? I folded my hands in the pleats of my dress, keeping my eyes focused on the floor.

"I'm not lying," I said.

"You've been lying to me this entire time. I do not know why you persist, now that everything is out in the open."

"Why won't you believe me, Erik? What is keeping you from hearing the words that I'm speaking? I love you!"

"No you don't! I wish to hear no more of this! I will never make this mistake again!"

"What mistake, trusting me?"

"Yes!"

We glared at each other, and like a basketball rebounding right into my face, I suddenly fell back at the force of the emotion that flooded into my chest. I stumbled, and Erik, despite himself, lunged forward to keep me steady. I stared at him, confused. My mind was working much slower than my heart, processing words, memories, images… My sight was going dim, my legs started to feel fuzzy, and as I stared into Erik's faux face, so close to mine, I felt an incredible surge of animosity.

"I will never marry you," I hissed. "I have never once lied to you. And yet, as you self-righteously drag me onto a plane to Paris, you try to make me forget that one plane I was meant to be on, beside you. My father's plane to Iran."

Erik let go of me quickly, and I stumbled a bit before finding my footing. It is amazing how much self-assurance anger can lend you.

He brushed off the lapels of his suit and regarded me.

"You have no say in this."

"Like I had no say in being the Devil's Child in Canada, right?" Sarcasm had always been my right hand man. My anger rose.

Erik wasn't taking the bait. I wanted to hit him, to scream at him, anything to make him respond to me. It was all coming back now. I remembered finding the letter, confronting him, yelling at him… and then my memory went fuzy, and the next thing I remembered was kissing him, loving him…

"What did you do to me?" I asked in a quiet, deadly tone.

Erik said nothing, only stared.

"What did you do to me?" I raised my voice. He would answer for this. There were no more secrets between us, and if he was going to hold me accountable for another one of his own faults, than I would not let him forget Iran. I didn't know if I could forget Iran… what could have been.

"I did not do anything that wasn't in your best interest." He said, fluffing out his jacket.

"My best interest? Are you joking?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Do I look like I'm joking, Christine?"

"You're ridiculous! You never did anything that didn't serve your own purpose!"

"Don't test me now, not after everything-"

I laughed shrilly. "I don't even know what to believe anymore! I don't know what's real! I don't know who you are, what you want from me…"

Erik grabbed my shoulders and forced me to look at him.

"Listen to me very carefully. I made a promise to your father that I would protect you from all harm. I am going to fulfill that promise. That boy is bad for you. I am taking you away from him, and he will never find us. I am going to marry you, because that is what Sir would have wanted. I am sure of it. You are going to sing, because that is also what he wanted. I am nothing. Erik does not matter. He does nothing for himself. At one time, he did everything for you. Now… now it is all for Sir. You know exactly who I am. You've always known. I am Erik. I was your father's Angel of Music. I could have been yours… but you proved yourself unworthy. Now take this, put on a jacket, and get into the car."

Erik slipped an engagement ring onto my finger, a huge sparkling diamond, and then turned quickly on his heel and slammed the door behind him.

I ripped my veil from the top of my curls, buried my face in it and screamed. He made me so angry! What was his problem? Why couldn't he stop talking for two seconds and listen to me, see me? The people we had been, not twenty four hours ago, were gone. In their place rose two irate strangers, each swimming against the current of the other's dreams. I could not feel love for him anymore… I couldn't feel anything. All I thought when I imagined Erik was anger and frustration. After everything we had been through, he couldn't understand that I didn't care what his face looked like? Did he trust me that little, think me that shallow? I never had control over how much he knew about my deformity, but that didn't stop me from loving him! Even after everything with Carla, I blindly trusted him, followed him over the edge of madness… I gave you my mind, blindly…

I shivered. I would not let him forget Iran. I was not stepping down. Whatever he made me do, I would never again give him my heart thoughtlessly, nor trust him implicitly. I had to bury my old self, as Erik had. I needed to be strong now, to not let anyone in, just as I had been in Canada. Erik was just another jailor…

But hadn't I loved him? Could I still listen to that voice and not melt, not wish to feel his lips upon my own? I breathed in deeply, opening my eyes and setting the veil back upon my head. I would always love Erik, but I was numb now, impervious to those emotions… and I didn't know if I would ever truly feel it again. There was too much anger now, too much which had gone unexplained, avoided. I felt a tear drop down my cheek and I angrily cleared it away. Yes, all I would ever really want in life was his love, his eyes always looking at me fondly… a marriage, a life in a small house with a garden… but I would now lock those thoughts away, far, far away, into the dungeons of my mind. I couldn't afford to be weak now.

I stared down at the diamond on my finger with nearly unseeing eyes. It was beautiful, just as was everything that Erik gave me. It made my heart ache, thinking of him buying this ring, redecorating this house, with the idea that we could have lived in it happily… Oh, Erik… Yes, I am marrying you in body, but in spirit, I will still long for my Angel of Music… will there ever be happiness for us again?

Erik drove the car with controlled civility. I dared to glance at him, to let my eyes wander over his whitened knuckles and pursed lips. I wondered now at the things I had always missed; how his face seemed paler than the real skin of his neck, how his eyes were deeply set within his face, more so than was natural, how his skin didn't move with him as a normal face would, but very facial movement seemed muted, dulled, as though he were a marble statue.

I studied again my new engagement ring, amazed at the size and beautiful cut of the diamond… how could he afford it? It made me wonder about things I had never before considered; where did Erik come by most of his money, by his contracting business with Nadir? Were there other, more shady enterprises with which he was involved? I wondered at the makeup of this man… the thoughts had never occurred to me before, simply because he was my angel, he was my father's Erik and he did not have a past, he did not need one. He had only existed for me when I needed him… and now I was realizing that he was a man, who must have had a mother and a father, a home, somewhere in France, before he ever met my father. I wanted to know about him, about the man I was about to marry.

It was more of a self defense mechanism than a sentiment of affection. The more I knew about him, the safer I would be. I didn't think I could trust him anymore… two weeks ago I never would have believed that my Erik would force me to marry him… this man was not my Erik.

"What has happened to us, Erik?" I asked sullenly, as I saw the turrets of the church begin to come into view.

"Whatever do you mean, my dear?" His voice was soft, almost kind, and I closed my eyes one last time as an unmarried woman, pretending that he was still the man I loved.

"I mean, why this? Why all of this anger, all of this mistrust… I thought we were in love."

"Weren't we?" Erik asked.

I blinked up at him, unwilling to unclose my eyes and be forced to see the truth. Close your eyes for your eyes will only tell the truth, and the truth isn't what you want to see…

"I don't understand." I sighed. "Why do you always evade my questions and answer me with philosophies and rhetoric? Why do you never just answer me?"

Erik was quiet as he parked the car in front of the church. My heart began to beat faster, as I contemplated what would happen next.

He turned the keys and slid them out gracefully, as he did everything, and leaned back in his seat. There was almost a comfortable silence in the car, and after the tense atmosphere of the last twenty four hours, I appreciated it. "Would you ask such a question of a painter? Would you ask, 'why are your brushstrokes so complex, why can't you just portray the picture?' Would you ask a poet, 'why do you use such language? Can't you just say what you mean?'" His voice was gentle and tender. "I answer the way I do because you are the only one who could ever understand me. I am Da Vinci. And you are Mona Lisa."

I blinked, remembering the sweet, innocent love that had been born in that song, in that idea… that I was his Mona Lisa, and that we belonged to each other. How fitting that he should remind me of it now…

"Oh, Erik," I whispered. "Please don't make me do this."

The calm atmosphere was sucked out of the car in an instant. I had meant to continue—to tell him, not like this, don't make me marry you under false pretenses… I love you, can't you see that? But he cut me off, his eyes narrowing suddenly.

"I almost forgot myself," he admitted, his voice hard as stone. "But you needn't worry. I shall not remind you any longer of that love which I once placed before you." His anger reminded me of my own, and in my stubbornness I did nothing to disabuse him of that idea. He gestured towards the church. "Inside that building is a priest who agreed to do a wedding on very short notice, when he was informed that a celebrity singer was being married and wished to do it in private. I am paying him a hefty sum. Do not speak unless spoken to. If you make any indication that you are not compliant it will end very badly. Do you understand me?"

I glared at him, refusing to answer.

He took hold of my left hand and squeezed it tightly. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

"Good." He released me and went to unlock the car.

"I can never love you if you force me to marry you." I stated.

Erik looked back at me, one leg swung over the edge of the car.

"I don't expect you to, Christine. That time is over. Now all that is left is for you to keep your promises."

He swung the door shut and began to walk inside, and I barely was able to suppress my tears. That had been my last hope, to somehow get through to him, make him realize what he was doing to me… My emotions were suddenly catching up to me. That blessed numbness was fading away into heartache. Why didn't I have the courage to walk right up to him, pull off his mask and kiss him? Wasn't that what I should have done the moment I saw him in the music room this morning? I knew what it was like to be deformed, to never trust people… why couldn't I show him that, show him how much I loved him? Yes, maybe he had gone to extremes, but this had never been a normal relationship… and I still loved him, no matter what. I could even forgive him for Iran, if he would just talk to me about it, if I knew the real reasons why… Because all I really wanted in life was to let go of my past, once and for all, and to move on into the world, into a world with love. Love and Erik. I needed to rectify this mistake. I needed to overcome my petty fears and insecurities and for once do some good in the world. I took a deep breath and smoothed a hand over my hair. I would go in there and marry Erik, because I loved him. And later tonight, before we went to bed, I would take his mask off, take his damaged face in my hands, and kiss him. Everything would get better. It had to.

In the end, I was still his Mona Lisa, and he was still my Angel of Music.

So… I really don't know with this one. I couldn't tell you if I liked it or not. I liked parts of it. It's actually a lot shorter than I meant it to be. I feel like, although it has important parts, it's actually somewhat of a filler chapter. I do strongly dislike filler chapters. I also don't know if I got the emotions right. Christine is all over the place right now, but mostly she's so overwhelmed that she just went numb, and has no clue how she feels. Was it realistic at all? I mean Erik is completely gone. He's angry, he's crazy, and he's going to get his way… because he will not allow himself to hurt again. But that will come back to bite him, don't you worry about it… Anyway… I'm excited to continue. But I really do hope you liked it. Please drop me a review and tell me what you thought!

I love you all!

Sincerely,

~IceCliff