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Replaying Past	By : RubyNatulieLee Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 7371 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
Disclaimer: I do not own or make any sort of money off of this based story. I only own the charaters of Esme Lonsdale, Eddy and his sister Crystal, The wig maker, Nicolas and the three boys from Sandor's gang. Everything else I do not own nor belong to me. ]

The day went by so slowly to Esme. Her eyes burned from the tears that had fallen. Upon her bed she sat, her fingers holding, clinging to the shirt of Eriks. Feeling the coldness, instead of the warmth. She could not cry any more, she had run out of liquid for tears. But the sun was sinking, leaving her to think, should she stay, or leave… Shaking her head, she wouldn't leave for good, she remained herself. But she made a promise, she had to go to supper… She had to keep her word. So even through the falling tears, she dressed herself. After seeking through clothing, trying to find one outfit to suit her mood and taste of the upper class. She found a black dress. Placing it on, she stared at herself within the full-length mirror. It fit her perfectly, the blouse hugged her upper chest, cupping her swollen breasts, while the collar, being low cut, showed the skin of her tan flesh. A corset was placed around her stomach and mid rib cage, tied tightly to show off her slender form. While the skirts, brushed out in black lace and silk fabrics, covering her legs completely. With make-up she had found, old in their months time. She dabbed red upon her lips, while along her cheekbones. She didn’t want to look, like a woman who had spent her whole day crying her eyes out.

Staring at herself, her fingers brushing along the flat of her stomach, she stood firm, and held back the tears that wanted to fall. She needed to get out, even for a night, she could not be alone any more. After the way Erik had treated her. So, taking a deep breath, She withdrew a black cloak that lay nestled upon her bed, drawing it upon her shoulders, tying it around her neck. But as her fingers pulled the hood up, to cover her curled hair, that was pulled up and twisted, letting ruby pins glittered within the moonlight, a voice echoed out, harsh and filled with such rage.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

She spun around, only to meet the cold blue eyes, which made her tears swell up once again. But building her courage, she held them at bay, and faced the phantom head on. He stood between the doorframe, her only exit, his black trousers hugging his strong hips, while no shirt lingered upon his upper chest. Baring to her, that skin and flesh, that she had touched during their thrills of passion. His hair was triangled and unruly, sticking up on some places, while banging in front of his narrowed eyes. His mask was upon his face, reminding her what pain the marble thing caused her. But with a steady breath, she whispered. “Out...”

“Oh?” He whispered, his voice holding mockery. Leaning his shoulder upon the wooden frame, his arms crossing over his chest, he asked, “Out where?” He was toying with her, she could hear it in his voice. And slowly rage started to fill her heart. “To supper.” He gave a little nod of his head, before muttering. “Alone? Do you know what happens to ladies who go out alone in Frances streets? I bet you do not. Being sheltered by your father and all.” Picking up her skirts within her trembling hand, she marched over to him slowly. “Your concern for me is charming Erik.” She grumbled, “But there’s no need to fear. I won’t be dinning alone tonight. I am to meet someone to share it with.” She watched as his eye brow shot up, and his eyes slowly narrow. “Whom am I ask?” She kept quiet for a moment longer, before she titled her chin up, staring him dead in the eyes, as she whispered the words, that caused Erik to stiff his whole body.

“Vicomte de Chagny.”

“No!” His voice sliced threw her very soul, as a squeal ripped from her throat. His large hands grabbed her upper arms. Pulling her closer, making her feel the warmth that beated off his flesh. “I will not let you.” He growled. But she only struggled, placing her hands upon his chest, shoving, pushing at him, her head shaking under its hood. “Let me go!” She cried. But her plea’s were muffled, as he pushed her forward into the room. She screamed out when they both fell. His body pinning hers down upon her bed. His fingers locked around her wrist, while his legs pinned her own. She cried out again, but it was blocked, as Eriks mouth covered her own, in a harsh kiss, that made her heart brake. “Don’t go.” He muttered into her lips. Finally, at the moment, she could feel Eriks body tremble upon her own. As if trying to hold back something. His voice was breathless and harsh, as he whispered on, “Don’t leave me alone…” She stared up at him, willing to give up her plans and stay. Willing to wrap her arms around his neck and hold him close, wanting to know he needed her.

But he had hurt her in such a way she could not forgive.

“Get off me Erik.”

He whole body stiffened. She could feel it. But she couldn’t let him change her mind. He hurt her, she was going to repay him. He stared down at her, his body slowly going limp. Giving her the chance to slip out from under his grasps, and to her shaky feet. “I’ll be back.” She whispered, her mind forbidding her to look him in the eyes, in fear she would burst into tears again. With her throat to dry to utter another sound, she turned and fled out the door, only to shut her ears, to Erik cry when he raced after her, his right arm reached out to grasp anything to keep her at bay. “No!”

“Don’t go and leave me!”

~~~~~~~~{@

Erik stood there, in mere shock. His body leaning heavenly upon the door frame. He could not move. He could not chase her. His eyes watched with regret as the flapped fabric of Esme’ cloak, faded down the stairs, into the darkness. He did this. Closing his eyes tightly, he pressed his forehead into the wooden frame, repeating to himself, he done this. He wanted to stop her from ever leaving the theater again, to be with him in the darkness. But his anger got the better of him and sent her running away. Just like Christine. For Esme was running into the arms’, of the man he swore to never forgive.

The weight of what he had done was over whelming. Falling to his knees, he pressed his shoulder into the frame. His hands rising to cover his face, touching the marble mask. If he was beautiful, he could be happy, but he wasn’t, therefore damned to be alone. Christine would have been his if he didn’t get soft hearted and let her go. But he didn’t want to keep her, waking up every morning to see the hate and anger in her eyes. She would never grow to love him. That fact twisted the knife within his very heart. But Esme, unlike Christine, stared at him with such love, even with his mask. Upon their first meeting, she didn’t remove his mask, Christine did. Upon their first meeting, She had come back to him, even if he was harsh on her, Christine didn’t. Christine had removed his mask, even without telling him, no caring what he would say or how he felt about it. Esme let him wear it, and let ‘himself’ take it off… His eyes slowly opened, his head tilted up to look into the darkness. He had removed his own mask for her, and she covered her own eyes, to keep him happy. She had down everything he had asked her, and this is how he repaid her.

The one night of passion, he sent right to hell in the morning.

He was a monster…

She was nothing like Christine. She couldn’t sing, yes she had a father who had died. But she never called him her father like Christine had. She didn’t run away from him at his first outrage, she didn’t run to get help from the outside world. She didn’t care, if her phantom had the face of a monster, he knew that. Just by the look in her eyes. She cried for him, but not in the way Christine had. She did it out of fear, pity for his misfortune. Esme had looked at him and cried, not in fear. But in mourning, that he had to walk around, bearing such a mark. She didn’t look at him and run screaming at the mere site of the misshapen skin, but had touched him, and held him close. She was with him, even after she looked at his face…

And he had shattered her tender trust and innocent, by treating her like a whore and criminal. Even when she tried to explain. He didn’t deserve someone like her. But even after all he had done to her; she told him, she was coming back. Her words, even if they were filled with pain, told him, reassuring him. She was coming back.

He was a monster, a true monster, he believe himself to be...

~~~~~~~~{@

“Madame Lonsdale!”

Esme’ head shot up from her name call. The cold winters air stinging her eyes. She would never grow use to the winters here she feared. But pushing her hood back a little, she saw him, and not even the site of him brought a smile to her lips. Raoul stood beside the Jewelry store, where they had first met. Decked out in his best outfit. A black suit, black as coal hugging him, the coat trimmed to his very body while his trousers hugged his lean hips and muscular thighs. His hair combed back, letting the golden strains trail along his shoulder, along the white collar. A black cloak wrapped around his shoulders, blocking the winters breath from his very skin. He gave her a pleasing smile, glad to see she had not lied to him and ran away. Upon her approach, his right hand came out from the shadows of the cloak, handing her a single red rose. “For you malady.” He whispered, giving her that tender smile that would make any women melt with love. But Emse wasn’t like them and she didn’t have the energy to melt. But with a weak smile, she took the rose from his gloved fingers, “Thank you.” She whispered.

“Oh it was nothing.” He laughed, taking her free arm, wrapping it within one of his own. “I couldn’t find anything else that would match your beauty.” She gave him a side-glance, making him grin, “But enough of that, lets to supper.” Patting her palm hand softly with his free one, he escorted her down the sidewalk.

Getting here was easier then Raoul thought. Threw the day, he had busied his new wife with chores and with sweet nothing in her ear, making her melt and her eyes shine with love. Giving him all the trust in the world. What a simple little creature she was. He would never get rid of her. She was far more amusing then the rest of the ladies in France. But slipping a few kisses here and there, whispering about a dinner date with some investors, he managed to leave without her growing any wiser of his dates. Which suit him just fine. For his soon to be new mistress, held far more beauty, and held the raging fire he was dying to need. His groin tightened as he suppressed a groan from his throat. Just the thought of finally laying her down, to see the goddess inside of her. He wanted to bath in her fire, to plunge into the tight depths of the very liquid he seen shine in her eyes. He wanted her far more then any women in that moment. And that fact shocked him.

But that just made him smile. For if she was as good in bed, as she looked. Then he was going to keep her for a very long time… A chuckle rose from his throat, perhaps, he would give her a child or two, that way she could not leave him. Sure they would be bastards and hold no right to his title and wealth. Only Christine had that, being his wife and all. But it would be nice, to see red headed little boys running around his young Esme’ body, little girls clinging to her skirts as he visited, giving him all the love he wanted. He laughed at the thought within his mind, knowing it might not happen. But there was a good chance. Since, even after almost a year, Christine wasn’t even with child. That fact was a bruising blow. He did everything he could to put a brain in her belly, but she never taken. He wasn’t his fault, he was sure of that. His own father could have bore tens of thousand children. If he could afford such a task that is. So it had to be Christine fault, she wasn’t taking his seed.

Which only pushed the thought of giving Esme some children of her own. That way, in case his wife didn’t bare him a suitable heir, he could just pass his wealth and title off to one of his bastard children. Yes, it would be talk of the town, but he didn’t want his hard earn money slipping off to his wife if he should die soon or to one of his cousins. It wouldn’t be right. Nodding to his thoughts. He looked down at his new task to get tonight. Seeing her eyes down cast to the rose she held so softly. “You alright my dear?” She gave him a short nod, before lifting her gaze, to stare towards the dinning hall they would be spending their night in. “This place is one of my favorites.” He spoke to her gently, in a friendly manner, luring her with his trust.

“I hope it becomes yours as well.”
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- 18
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Replaying Past