Author's Note: HEY PEOPLE! This is my first phic so please be nice! Ever since the first time I saw the movie, I immediately wanted to call up the director and ask him to redo the ending the way I wanted it to happen, so I wouldn't burst into tears every time i watched it. Well, that didn't exactly work out, so I decided to take matters into my OWN HANDS AND WRITE IT MYSELF! how do u like THAT Mr. Lloyd Webber! -silence- sorry bout that, i have my moments. -eats a cookie- ALL BETTER :) Anyway , read my phic and please review! and yes, i accept CONSTRUCTIVE CRITISM, as i know there are many things i need to do to make this story better. but please do not be overly harsh, as i am writing this for the simple purpose that i love writing about Erik and Christine (and sometimes Raoul..)

Without further adieu, please enjoy "Confessions of the Heart" (name subject to

EDIT/ I redid this chapter, cuz i didnt like it much. Ithink it's better now. Enjoy!

Erik sat on top of thesmall nightstandpositioned next to the bed, empty except for the small music box, hisone hand clasping the bed and the other caressing Christine's cheek. He smiled wickedly to himself at his undeserved triumph. He had won Christine, and now she was his, however unwilling it might be on her part. Three weeks from that day, right after the first and uncompleted performance of Don Juan, Christine had agreed to stay with him forever, and in return Raoul had been freed. Erik could still feel Christine's lips, pressed against his with such passion he felt it flow through his very veins. Erik knew she had only kissed him to free Raoul- of course, what other reason would she have for staying?- but she had done it with passion, which in itself was something special to him, for he had a feeling he would never get anything more out of Christine.

He turned to look at her, sleeping like a small child, with her beautiful brown curls draped seductively onto her silky ivory skin and the gauzy material of her nightgown he had made for her. He forced himself to look away, and stared at the silk and lace ceiling he had designed with his own hands for his precious Christine.

As he did every morning, he sat in loneliness, accompanied only by the sound of Christine's soft breathing. How he wished Christine would surrender to him; just once, he wanted to be able to hold her in his arms, and not feel her tremble beneath him. But so far, that showed no signs of happening anytime soon. She would drag herself around the house, just wandering around staring at the ceilings, never saying a word. She would clumsily bump into things every once in a while, and Erik would give a weak cry as he watched his Christine wearing herself away like this, but she would never cry out, but simply turn around and keep walking.

She was looking more frail and lifeless everyday, and when Erik would catch her eye he would see the emptiness that was there, just the same as the emptiness in his own. He did not want his love to have to live this way, but he couldn't force himself to release her, knowing she would run right back to her precious Raoul. But he had to find someway to make her enjoy living with him, but so far it had been impossible. He didn't understand, why was it so hard? He had once been her angel, her idol, and she had looked at him with the same love and adoration he showed her every second, so what had changed? Well, he knew the answer to that. He had taken her away from the one she really loved.

Erik's heart tightened as he thought about the fact that Christine would never love him the way she loved Raoul, no matter how much he tried to fool himself into thinking it. His face was hideous, ugly, beastly, and no woman would ever love him. In a way, he had given up hope weeks ago. He did not play the organ for her as he used to, as he saw no point since she was nothing more than the walking dead. He was no longer her angel, and he hated it. He wanted to see the sparkle back in her chocolate brown eyes, and her face light up when she would receive one of his roses. He had tried so many times to try to get her to forget about Raoul, but she would simply push him away and stride off towards the bedchamber to cry the day away. But today, he vowed he would begin to earn her trust, and her love. He slowly and quietly eased away from the bed so as not to wake Christine, who had not shifted once from her position. He carefully put on his porcelain half-mask, walking past the black lace curtains into the main room of his lair.

He looked around the whole of his labyrinth, trying to find something that he could possibly do to soothe Christine. Finally, his eyes rested on his organ, and he gave a small smile and strided towards it, stepping carefully over the stray sheets of abandoned music. He sat down at the gleaming cherry-wood bench he had constructed himself, and felt a wave of nostalgia as he reminisced on all the time he had played for her. Pushing away the old memories, he stroked the keys, then began to play. Today, he would be Christine's angel once more.


A/N: I know its short, but i dont want to stuff too much into one chapter. i dont know why, im just weird like that. please review! i wont have much time to update anytime soon...midterms :growling: anyways, i hope your enjoying reading this as much as i do writing it!