Oh Christine, I must teach you how to receive compliments.

The girl was shy. So terribly, terribly shy.

I couldn't help but to chuckle upon seeing the helpless expression on that pretty face of hers as the audience was praising her into the heavens, that particular night. They kept telling her over and over that she had outdone herself and that even the brightest stars had not shone the way she had tonight. She rewarded their enthusiasm with a coy smile and ducked her head time after time. From the dark shadows, I watched her, as she received gifts, kisses and splendid bouquets of the most exotic flowers. Though I wished for my angel to be worshipped for her marvellously gifted voice, I also could not resist the urge to scoff under my breath. The way they were staring at her was scandallous; eyes dripping with lust for her beautiful face, ears wanting to hear her voice soar until her vocal cords would break and hands reaching for her as if she was their marionette, a doll they could posses and toy with. My entire chest tightened up and I instinctively let out a growl. Oh she was a doll, but she was my doll. I had shaped her into this precious songbird that everyone was able to enjoy. I was the one who spent hours with her, perfecting her voice, nurturing it like a fragile flower that was just about to sprout. I was the one getting her breathing centered, teaching her how to carry herself and how to get her nerves under control. And I was the one who leveled up her acting skills, helping her finding meaning behind the words and in music. Only I had molded her into this. I had been there for her, when everyone else had left.

A part of me suddenly wondered if it was my ego that wanted recognition for her success tonight. After all, I was the one who had found the talent in her voice. But it was still her voice, in her body. And sure, their eyes were dripping with lust, but so were mine. Their ears wanted to hear her voice soar, but so did mine. No. I tried to throw these thoughts away, it wasn't greed. It was never greed. I had other reasons, better reasons. I wanted everyone to hear my music, my gift to the world. I wanted people to be able to enjoy this universal language and she was simply the best suited carrier. Nothing more.

Or was she?

Tonight she had indeed excelled herself beyond anything I had hoped for. Though it was all her own work, and I had merely presented her the tools. After all, it had been her choice to use them or not. I had never pressured her into making those decisions. God, how I hated the public as much as I loved them. For they were essential pawns in my game, and I had to use them wisely, but they were annoying and not easy to please. Sure, I very much wished my songbird all the successes in the world and I would do nothing to harm the frail legacy she had just started to build. At least her foundations were solid. So, I stayed hidden in the shadows and hoped that this mad circus would end soon so that I could claim her for myself again.

The crowd continued to drool over the poor girl, who was exhausted and had been pushed beyond her limits. She had truly given every fiber of her body for this performance and she wanted nothing more than to retreat to her chambers and rest. I grimaced upon the people carelessly violating her personal boundaries. Gripping at her arms and shoulders, almost crushing her into the corner with no possible way out. All the while demanding she'd answer every question they threw at her feet, expecting to reveal all her cards at once. Where did she learn to sing like this? Who was her teacher? Had her parents forced her into this? Was she the secret weapon of the opera? Was it fake? The poor girl couldn't even start to answer one question before another was asked. Madness. Pure madness.

She looked so petrified, her eyes darting from one person to the other. Though everyone was looking at her, she couldn't find the one pair of eyes she sought. A tired sigh escaped her physically drained body. Bags were now clearly visible under her eyes and her shoulders had started drooping a long time ago. I wanted nothing more than to pull her into a hug and sing until she drifted off into the blissful waves of my music. But I couldn't spoil anything now, I had to stay hidden. She was strong. She'd find a way out. I couldn't help but notice the small flinches she gave as the press swarmed after her like flies on honey. Her delicate eyebrows furrowed constantly as she tried to remain calm and steady on her feet, eventhough she was pushed in nearly every direction. She did not have a single minute to herself, to enjoy the overwhelming success of tonight. Her personal success. Slowly, so very slowly, she managed to make her way to her dressing room, the crowd still following her on her heels. God, had no one ever heard of privacy? I reminded myself that next time, we were going to have to do things a little differently. When she finally reached her door, she did not forget to apologise before slipping into her room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

I, too, moved. The were certain pros that came with building your own opera house, for example, knowledge of rooms, corridors and doors that were hidden from the public. I slid into a secret passage that led me from the general corridor directly into the familiar small pathway behind her mirror. From there, I watched her as she let herself fall down onto the divan. Finally able to sit after a long evening. Quickly, she began to pull out the pins of her intricate bun and sighed tiredly but satisfied as she let the chestnut curls fall graciously down her shoulders and over her back. I grunted deeply as my chest started to ignite a fire again. But this time a fire of passion and desire for her. Under my breath, I both cursed and praised her ability to stir up all these feelings inside of me with a task as basic as undoing hair. Though I wasn't surprised since just her mere existence was able to undo me.

A loud and rather arrogant knock on her door managed to make us both jump in our respective places. She moved quickly and had barely thrown a modest dressing gown around her bare shoulders, to which I grimaced in dismay, when the door was confidently opened and a young man proudly strode in. Head high, a simple suit and a sloppy tie. I pinched my nosebridge. My, God, is this what they call fashion nowadays? Christine paid zero attention to his attire and immediately asked for his credentials, wanting to know the reasing to why he had come bursting into her room like he was the Pope himself. The boy, however, plainly ignored her, threw a rose on her desk and started boasting about how they knew each other as children.

Christine, too tired to send the young man away, picked up the rose instead and smelled it. A dreamy smile graced her lips as she stared into nothingness, she had always been a dreamy one. I felt myself frowning. What was so special about this single rose? Hadn't I sent her roses after every performance she did? At least I wasn't that cheap to gift her a single rose, I had sent her large bouquets of the most colourful roses I could find. Yet here she was, smiling upon that damned single rose of that damned probably single boy.

The young blond man suddenly walked up behind Christine and decided that it was a good idea to rest his hands on her shoulders. Every cell in my body wanted to jump out of that mirror so badly to show this imbicile a little decency. But I could not reveal myself, not like this. So instead, I balded my fists tightly and concentrated on keeping my emotions under control. How dare he, touching my Christine! The boy knew her for barely a minute and already started to make moves.

How dare this youth! Sure, why don't you go ahead and get married while you're at it.

Who did this boy think he was anyway? Fancy clothes, smooth talk and some money in the bank did not automatically make you the best suitor. I had found this out the hard way. A woman's heart opens upon trust, reassurance, patience and a lot of love. Besides, I had known Christine for years and had not once made a move on her. No matter how much my poor body screamed for even a hint of her loving gaze, or the slightest of the soft touch I dreamed she would have. Not once, had I tried to woo her. Instead, I had spent those years sculpting her into the woman she was now, preparing her for the adult life she would eventually have to lead. Years I had spent trying to only see her as my massively talented student, trying to see her as nothing else besides that. Years I had spent, trying to repress that hungry, yearning feeling for her affection. That unbearable feeling that had only grown stronger over the last few months. Yet, I have never laid so much as one finger on her. I've always hightly respected the rights she had as a woman.

But here was this.. this boy, intruding her holy temple like some mad driven monkey!

What was even worse, Christine didn't seem to mind this violation and had decided to join the boy in his ridiculously lousy small talk, hell, she even touched his hand. Out of sympathy, I decided firmly. Not love. Not love! The boy then joked about their shared memories of the past. Memories that did not include me. I tried everything but to vomit at my own feelings of sad self pity. I was better than this. Oh I would have loved to show this boy how a real man talked to a woman. But I couldn't destroy what I had so carefully build up for the last few years, not now. I was almost there, I couldn't ruin it over some precious little snuck up boy. Though it pained me that this was how he thought she deserved to be treated.

Boy, you simply remind her of what used to be, at least I am the one who reminds her of what yet has to come.

Their meaningless conversation went on for a few minutes or so, but then suddenly the mood shifted drastically, much to my delight. The cocky boy had invited Christine for dinner, that was being hosted in her honour, but she graciously declined. Instead, she said she'd rather spend some time alone to thank her teacher, her Angel of Music. I smiled broadly upon hearing that she most certainly had not forgotten the one who had helped her from the beginning.

That's my girl.

The boy wouldn't have any of it and decided for the both of them that they should attend the celebration dinner, everyone would be there. And he certainly would take the oppertunity to show her off, I heard myself thinking. He continued to tell her that she'd have two minutes to change into something prettier. Something. Prettier. The girl could've have worn nothing and she'd still be prettier than the face of God Himself. It was that exact moment that I decided I had enough of his childish nonsense. The door had barely been closed and I let my voice boom through her entire dressing room. "That insolent boy! His nerve, for basking in your glory! I should sow his mouth shut for having offended you in the face, and for having stolen the triumph that belongs to only me!"

Christine's body tensed up as her Angel of Music presented itself to her in this grand and bold way. She shuddered upon my rage that drilled into her to the core. Outbursts as these, she knew very well for my thin patience has not been one of my positive virtues. Though no matter how many times I assured they were never directly towards her, they always managed to still terrify her. Her voice quivered as she addressed me in shame. "Please Angel, I only sang for you tonight! Forgive my weak soul, I owe you everything."

She stood up and walked to the middle of the room, where she thought her angel would see her best. "Speak to me, show me and guide me! Please, master!"

My ego was lifted high upon realising again how easily dominated she was and how she feared me. The power was mine, and I would gladly remind her of it. In this, I took pride, though it was sinful to use such an innocent little thing as a confidence boost. But I'll have you know, I could never stay angry with her for long, she was too pure and true of heart. I slowly felt the fire inside of me disappear and I found myself softening up sooner than I had intended to. I lowered my voice and tried to find the warmth in the lower regions of my vocal cords. It seemed to help as she slowly stopped shaking and visibly relaxed in my prescence. "My dear, you flatter me. Tonight, I shall grant you your wish. Not only shall you hear me, but you shall see me as well."

My chest fluttered with pure joy when I saw her eyes lighten up, for I knew she was excited to meet her mysterious angel at last. "Know why the shadow is my friend. Look inside the mirror, child."

She slowly turned around and stared at the life size mirror, her expression resembling that of a five year old in a candy store. And it was as if she then finally realised that she was never truly alone in this room and that I must have been watching her getting ready for every performance and returning afterwards. She stepped closer to the mirror and coyly bit her lower lip, stirring up the muscles in my lower belly and making me grunt under my damned mask. Her light eyes found mine at last and I melted completely. Instantly, I pulled down the lever that would open my world for her. Finally, I revealed myself to her and I watched as her curious eyes scanned me from head to toe.

To my surprise, she then stretched out her hands, almost wanting to make sure that I was real and not a dream. She wanted to touch me, she wanted me to invite her. Oh, I gladly obeyed.

"I am, your angel of music," I whispered and noticed the gloom in her eyes as her legs automatically lead her to me.

Good girl.

Her fingers had barely touched my hand and already a jolt of electricity shot up my spine, stabbing my inner core with pleasurable waves. I felt as if I had fallen into a whirpool of endless bliss, as if the heavens themselves had opened themselves up and poured all their glory onto me. Her touch was indeed as soft as I had imagined, if not softer. And it sent me into all the dimensions of the universe. Thirstily, I drank in her beautiful sight before me. Her gorgeously long hair framing her delicate face, the white silk dressing gown hugging her body in all the right places, complimenting her slender though feminine physique and the fair tender skin that stretched out over her long and lean limbs.

God, forgive me for the things I so desperately want to do to her.

In utter bliss, I closed my hand around her smaller one and held her tight, fearing that if I let go, she'd vanish into thin air. She seemed to be totally entranced by her Angel that she couldn't take her eyes off of me. And she was more than willing to follow me onto the steps that lead into the dark pathway. I was so taken in by the sight of her real form, standing in front of me, touching me, that a loud knock on the door momentarily caught me off guard. The two minutes were up and the boy had come back to fetch Christine. But he had come too late, I celebrated the victorious feeling that she had chosen to come with me instead of that upper class snob. Quickly but gently, I pulled Christine completely into the mirror, closing the double glass directly behind her. The boy stumbled into the room and found it empty. Confusion was written all over his dumbstrucken face and I laughed silently.

Besides managing to upset me in every way possible, the poor fool also made me laugh.