Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of The Opera. I am only using the characters for a brief moment.

"Nothing is easier than to denounce the evildoer; nothing is more difficult than to understand him." -Fyodor Dostoevsky. (1821 - 1881)

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Goodbye, my darling.

She presses her pale fingertip to the head of the rose. Sending a blushing petal plumaging down to an untimely death. She suddenly found her regular fresh bouquet of roses innapropriate. And found them in more semblance of funeral flowers than ones of courtship, or even celebration. Though, she knew that there was no tangible proof of this, they were exactly the same as the thousands of others she had recieved. Plump and red, adorned in silk black ribbons. She remembers that she was told to wear one during Don Juan Trumphant. It would start soon, and she picked up the biggest one and stuck the stem behind her ear, tangling in with her thick auburn hair.. Suddely remembering that Raoul will be watching her tonight. Raoul, Optimisic. Considerate. She adored him, it's as simple as that. And he offered her the world on a silver tray. But then, how could it not feel quite right?

It didn't feel wrong. It just, well, didn't feel quite right.

He was comfortable. He was sweet. He was safe. They fit together like the cogs of a clock, perfectly. Raoul would watch her sing on stage, but she wouldn't be his main point of concern. No, her Angel would be. Her Angel would watch her tonight aswell, with greedy, possessive eyes. Drinking her up and poisoning her thoughts. He always could do that to her.. Oh, but black silk ribbons are good only for a little while, but they can't work miracles.. They can't hide secrets or bestow forgiveness. She knows that now. At first it was all too romantic. Someone caring for her as much as he does. But she was, and is, only a child. She didn't know how fast the world would unfurl around her from his hand. She thought he was an Angel..

Passion corrupts the soul like wildfire.

And tonight, she would find out exactly how far her tutor had fallen down the rabbit-hole. How far they had waltzed on the peak of perversion. It was a sin, but oh, what a beautiful sin it was. And how it was tearing her apart. Her sanity was just bearly hanging on, hung to dry up on lace and wire. She was his sparrow, and now, just like all good little sparrows do, she must sing.

They had to end this waltz while they all had their heads. But at what cost? Would her Angel have to die? No, he couldn't. Couldn't they just put him in jail with all the other murderers? Murderers. That word hummed harshly in her ears. That what he was, afterall, a murderer. He had killed many for her.. But she couldn't have stopped him then, she would have just been another number in his body count. Right? But now, he has Raoul. Raoul will protect her tonight. Keep her from becoming hypnotized. Because, when it comes to her Angel. She really is that weak. It was silly, but she still cared about him. And he loved her, and, in some horrible way, she loved him back. He protected her. Sure- not the way Raoul did, the way he shielded her from pain and horror. Her 'phantom' protected her by tucking her away, hiding her from others. It made her feel special. It made her feel like he thought that she was something precious, protecting her in a way someone would protect a glass flower. Each of them had something the other was lacking. How could she choose between a grasshopper and a scorpion?

She rubbed off a small unnoticed tear with her numb palm. She knew that the choice would soon be taken away from her. This sad revelation struck her as a gentle knock came at the door. She knew who it was without looking; it was Madame Giry. The show was about to begin.

Goodbye, for I may not return.