Let The Dream Descend

Broken Pieces

The world was different somehow, darker. Nothing was black and white. Gray diluted and confused right with wrong, and darkness tried to snuff out what little light was in the world. This was the world that Christine went to in her dreams each night. It was always cold, and with every passing night the world around her grew darker. Such as this fortnight after she had fallen asleep in her angel's embrace, though this time it was different.

Christine cried out, and walked with both hands in the front of her, groping at the darkness for any clue as to what surrounded her. Suddenly, she felt a crunch beneath her small feet, and carefully - Oh, so carefully - leaned down to grasp what she had so carelessly stepped on. Her fingers met something smooth, and she recognized the contours and creases of Erik's mask. The young soprano felt a painful prickle, and then an unpleasant wetness from her hands. She had cut her hand on a piece of broken porcelain.

The young soprano frowned, and very carefully set the porcelain back down, so that she could attempt to attend to her wounded finger. Then, she heard a familiar voice, "You shouldn't touch my mask."

Christine's heart skipped a beat as she looked up in the blackness, "Angel?"

"Don't call me that. I am no longer your angel..."

Christine's teary, light green eyes snapped open as she looked up to meet the gaze of a certain masked man. Her breathing was slightly strained, and her heart was beating faster than normal. Erik was looking at her with mild concern, and the young soprano knew she had been crying in her sleep again. She cleared her throat and plastered on a small smile. "Good morning...." She whispered groggily. Christine became more oriented; and as she began to recall the previous night's events, she tried to forget about her dream.

"Good morning..." Erik whispered, gently trailing his finger over a bruise that was on her jawline. "How are you feeling, mon amour?"

"I'm okay... I think," Christine said with a small smile. Her grin quickly faded when she saw a familiar piece of stationery paper lying on her vanity. It was familiar, because it was the same stationary paper that belonged to Raoul.

"Is everything okay, my dear?" Erik asked, brushing back a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Hm, what? Oh... Yes, I'm fine...." She lied, not wanting to mention the note. Christine sighed softly and gently rested her head on Erik's chest, knowing that if she looked him in the eyes, she wouldn't be able to keep up with her fib.

"I-I should get up... I need to get dressed..." She mumbled, though she really didn't sound all that motivated to do so.

Erik sighed and gently wrapped his arms around her small torso, nuzzling the young soprano's neck softly. "One more minute? Please?" he murmured in Christine's ear, the vibrations of his voice sending delectable shivers down her spine.

A small smile formed on her lips and she nodded slightly, raising a hand to gently rest atop his own. "Of course..." She nodded, smiling up at her angel. Erik smiled and pulled her closer to his chest, savoring the feeling of her lying in his arms, safe once more. He had never thought that he might ever experience such a simple, yet pleasing sensation. As much as Christine loved being in his arms, she was beginning to feel quite warm.

"Angel... We really should get up...." Christine mumbled, slightly blushing as she realized how improper it was for them to be in the same bed before they were married.

Erik nodded and slowly sat up, running his fingers through his dark hair. "I shall go start breakfast..." He said softly, kissing the young soprano's left hand before standing.

Christine smiled and nodded. "Alright... I will be out in a few minutes. Just let me get dressed."

The masked man smiled and nodded, then walked out of the room to head towards the kitchen. Christine sighed in relief and quickly shuffled across the room to retrieve the note that was resting on her nightstand.