She lies on the sofa, completely defenseless, slowly becoming coherent. I stare at her flawlessly beautiful, yet so cruelly deceiving, face. And I wait. Above us, my kingdom burns by my own hand. I have razed it to the ground; with a great and terrible crashing of several tons of crystal and candles. The high society of Paris burns; the orchestra, the chorus, the managers…they could all be burned alive by my doing. But it doesn't matter. I consider it all just a part of my revenge, my demented vengeance on unkind, unfeeling humanity. I have a bloodlust now unlike ever before. The urge to kill and kill again is stronger than ever…

I hear her make a soft moan, pulling me from my thoughts. The chloroform is wearing off. It is time for action. I rise from my chair slowly, keeping my eyes fixed on her, until I must turn into the hallway which leads into her bedroom. Inside the room, I open the old Louis Philippe armoire and sift through all her gowns- gowns I so meticulously purchased for her with my own money- until I find what I want. I pull out the hidden wedding dress; yards and yards of white silk and eyelet lace cascade delicately into my arms. It is the most perfect garment ever conceived…and it will be beautiful on her; my breathing, living bride, rather than on the cold, lifeless automaton I had created out of sheer desperation.

Next, I take out my skeleton key and open a drawer in the old, mahogany bureau next to the bed. I remove a long thin box from the drawer. Inside is the veil, made of spider web like gossamer and real freshwater pearls on the crown, safely nested in sheets of white tissue. Holding the gown and the veil over my arm with care, I go to retrieve one last thing. Atop the bureau sits a green jewelry box, with ornate Russian painting all over its exterior. Only one thing sits in that jewelry box; a smaller box, made of black velvet. A recurring feeling of heartbreak chokes me as I take the box and open it. There lies the ring, the one she tried to hide…his ring. The huge, shimmering diamond with its bluish glow seems to mock me. It reminds me that she lost my ring; my plain, gold band. Without a care at all, she dropped it into the streets and replaced it with this gaudy, aristocratic thing.

The ring fills me with fury, but I know for the time being I must be calm. I snap the box closed and slip into my cloak pocket. The time for violence will come, I remind myself. I return to the drawing room, my aging legs are starting to ache. She is awake now. She looks around, sees me coming towards her, and instantly panics at the realization of her whereabouts.

"Oh my God…" she whispers in terror, "What…what happened?"

"I'm afraid my dear, that I had to sedate you." I told her complacently.

"Sedate me?" she asks in confusion.

"I could not very well carry you down here kicking and struggling, could I?" I ask smoothly. "Now, my dear, I must ask you to get up and put these on." I hold out the gown and veil. She stares at the white bundle in dull, abrasive horror.

"Why?" she asks, her voice rising with nervousness.

"For the ceremony, of course; I did tell you there would be one." I remind her snidely. She rises very quickly, as if to make an action of protest, and then falls back again with a groan of pain.

"Oh didn't I tell you? Get up slowly; chloroform leaves one with a splitting headache." I say coldly, glaring at her with dismal, absolute anger. She places her hand over her forehead, breathing heavily. At a loss for any compassion or patience, I throw the wedding garments on to an armchair and go over to the sofa. I place my hand on the small of her back and carefully pull her to her feet, standing her up in front of me. She wobbles, holding on to my shoulder merely for support.

"Erik…" she murmurs, panting still from the drug's strong after-effects.

"Perhaps it'd be best if you just did not speak, Christine. You will need your strength." I push her hand from my shoulder, leaving her to stand alone unsteadily. I pick the dress up once more and hold it out to her.

"Now, as I said. I would like you to put this on."

She looks at the dress like it is a poisonous insect and shakes her head. "No."

"No? Why not?" I ask; my voice is icy and filled with venom.

"Because…I haven't a dresser to help me with the laces." She says quickly.

"Oh, Christine you're a terrible liar." I tell her with a sharp scoff. "Erik is very capable of helping you lace your gown. So," I thrust it forward, "Put it on."

"I won't." she backs away from me and the dress. "I won't!"

"Listen, you exasperating little thing. You will do as I say. I have a ceremony scheduled and I don't find it polite to miss appointments. Put on the dress." I snap, feeling my sanity slowly slipping.

"I will not!" she cries, trying desperately hard to be brave. I see her dear little lips quivering…she is afraid of me. I don't want her to be afraid…I want to go and hold her…

"No, you fool. Don't let her trap you again. Remember how she hurt you…insidious little snake!" the voice inside my head reminds me with severity. He is so powerful. I remember to obey him…

"Put it on now!" I shout, throwing it at her. She recoils and lets the gown fall to the floor. With an irate sigh, I lean down on my poor knees and pick the gown up. I hold it out to her again with fierceness.

"I will not ask again. Take this gown and put it on like you have been told."

"You cannot order me around." She hisses at me angrily. "I do not have to do what you say anymore."

I feel my sanity snap…like a feeble piece of wood.

"I told you, I would not ask you again!" I scream at her, grabbing her wrist and shoving her up against the wall. "Perhaps a threat will frighten you into doing what I say? You do frighten so easily…don't you? Put on this gown, or I shall do it for you."

"I will not!" she shrieks at me, her eyes filling with tears of rage.

With an infuriated howl, I spin her around so that her face is pressed into the hard stone wall. She squirms and writhes like a worm trying to get off a hook, but I am ultimately much stronger and keep her pinned down.

"Let go of me, you wretch! You monster! Let go!" she screams at the top of her lungs. She kicks her small feet backwards, hitting me in my brittle shins each time. I ignore the pain and draw my mouth close to her ear.

"I told you that if you did not cooperate and dress yourself that I would do it for you!" I snarl into her ear. I shove away her long curls to reveal the laced back of her pink and black Flamenco opera costume. I wedge my shaking fingers beneath the laces and begin to rip them open.

"Stop it!" she shrieks in a tone of such fear that my blood feels cold. "No…stop…stop…stop! Don't…please! Don't touch me…please!"

I refuse to listen to her pleas and continue to undo the dress. Beneath the open laces I can see her bare, ivory flesh beneath her chemise. I want to touch that skin so badly that I ache…it'd be so easy. I have her now, pinned against the wall with no defense. How easy it would be to rip off everything and take her, violently, by force, here on the floor…how dangerously easy it always had been…

"Erik! Please, please stop!" she wails, now in complete tears. "I'll do it. I'll put on the dress! Just please don't do this to me!"

She knows my intention. Perhaps she's not so completely naïve after all. She's wise enough to know how simple it would be for me to forcefully strip away her innocence. It is my desire…but it hurts terribly to be accused. I back away from her. She turns around to face me, holding her dress up with her hands. She shudders with fear, wiping at her tearstained face.

"I cannot…I cannot believe you would accuse Erik of doing something so terrible." I stammer and my voice tremors with pain. "I have never touched you in such a way. I would never do such a thing to you!" What I say is true, but it repulsively contradicts the licentious thoughts I have had. She just looks at me, seemingly unable to say anything more. Once more, I pick up the dress and offer it to her. This time, she takes it without hesitating. She turns to head to her room, but I stop her.

"You will put that on out here." I tell her firmly.

"What? Dress in front of you?" she asks in disbelief.

"Oh, don't act so prudent child. You aren't nearly so modest around the Vicomte." I spit the words out poisonously. She stiffens at my mention of him. She does not yet realize how much I really know. But she will.

"Put the gown on and I will help you with your laces." I command. At last, because she knows there is no other choice, she obeys me.