"You try my patience. Make your choice."

My stomach quivered beneath the tightly-corseted wedding dress as his eyes bore into mine, demanding me to make a choice. Behind him, I could hear Raoul's ragged gasps for air, growing more and more laborious as each breath allowed the rope to further chafe his neck.

I sharply inhaled the damp, lakewater air, trying to bottle the bubbling hysteria. First there was Don Juan...then falling from the stage...then being dragged to his lair, before being forced into this wedding dress...and now Raoul's life was in my hands. The corset made it difficult to breathe, and my head began to swim.

However, despite my cloudy, lightheaded state, one thing shone clear: I couldn't let Raoul die.

"Yes," I said quietly, closing my eyes to quickly regain myself. I swallowed thickly and forced myself to meet his gaze. "Yes, I will stay with you if you let him go."

The angel—if I could even call him that—held his grip on the rope for another moment, his gaze unwavering, before loosening his grip ever so slightly. He nodded stoically, his prior mania vanished.

"As you wish," he responded. He let go of the rope, and behind him, Raoul immediately choked for air as the rope around his neck loosened.

"Christine, don't agree to this!" Raoul yelled once his lungs filled, his terrified eyes shooting straight to my heart. My lips parted, my mind racing for something reassuring to say, when the angel was all of a sudden beside me.

"Silence," he warned darkly. "She saved your life, now leave." Turning to me, he said: "We leave now, Christine."

Tears stung in my eyes as I faced Raoul, my light, my childhood friend, my protector, as he struggled against the rope. I bit my lip to restrain the tears that threatened to fall, turning to the angel.

"Please, let me say goodbye to him," I begged quietly, my voice hoarse. "Let me say goodbye, and I will give you no trouble."

His brows furrowed in suspicion, studying me for a moment before he nodded. "You have one minute." He abruptly turned away, facing the ornate and lavish lair.

That was all the privacy I knew I could ask for. I rushed to Raoul, stepping into the lake and dragging my feet and the ever-increasingly heavy wedding dress to where he was untying the last the ropes from himself. Angry red bruises were beginning to form in rings where rope chafed against skin, and once he was free, he splashed across the lake to cross the distance between us, pulling me into a desperate embrace.

"Christine, what have you done?" he whispered almost angrily into my ear, his hot breath warming my cheek against the cold damp air.

I shook my head, holding him close, savoring the feel of him. His strong arms, his manly scent, his beating heart against mine.

"You would do the same for me," I whispered back to him. I glanced fearfully at the angel, who was still turned away from us, before leaning closer to Raoul and continuing. "As long as the both of us are alive, there is a chance that we could be together. But that chance would be impossible if you were dead."

Raoul's hand came up to cup my face, his thumb softly caressing my cheek. His gaze was dark. "There is no way I am letting that monster have you."

"Then find me, Raoul," I whispered almost silently. "I'll do whatever I can to escape, and we will be together soon."

At that the angel turned around. "It is time to leave. Christine."

Squeezing Raoul's hand one last time, our eyes met with one shared message. We loved each other, and we would find each other again.

"You may take the boat," the angel said to Raoul, a bitter politeness in his tone. "It will take you to Rue Scribe, once you climb the ladder at the end." Raoul made no move to leave, and the angel quickly added: "If you want no harm to come to her, you will leave now."

Raoul met the angel's gaze with a fury I had never seen in him before. My hands clenched as I willed him to do nothing that would get himself killed by the unstable, dangerous man beside me.

Raoul's gaze flickered to mine one last time, deliberating, before turning to the wooden boat. He seated himself inside and lit the lantern placed at the end before taking both oars and rowing himself further and further away from me, the oars creating a gentle splashing sound with each rotation. Finally, he turned the corner, and he was gone. I watched until the black, rippling waters no longer reflected his light.

At once, the angel left my side. "We leave in ten minutes," he called out over his shoulder.

My eyes returned to the lake that took Raoul away from me. "Run," I thought to myself, but I shook my head; this was his game, his lair, and I probably wouldn't make it as far as a step before being caught.

Dread began to curl in the pit of my stomach as the full realization of my choice hit me. The long-restrained tears began to stream down my cheeks as I buckled over, cradling myself in my arms as silent sobs began to wrack my body. I had sold myself to this angel—an angel of hell, I now knew—for the man I loved, but it did not revoke the terror of what was to come that washed over me.

A comforting melody rang through the air. Sniffling, I shifted my head to find a wooden monkey behind me. It was holding two cymbols in its hands, clapping them together as it played a tune that was vaguely familiar. Around it, the place was alight with flickering candles, held up by gilded cherubims. Something familiar sat next to the monkey, and, standing up on trembling legs, I walked over to it.

It was the score and libretto for "Don Juan Triumphant". I fingered the leather binding, overwhelmed by all that had happened in only several hours time. Tucking the music beneath my arm, I seated myself in a black velvet chair and closed my eyes, resting my leaden head against my palms as a certain wooziness passed through me.

The ear-splitting sound of shattering glass jerked me awake. My eyes flew open, and I looked up to find the remains of a shattered mirror—the gilded edges of said mirror which looked eerily identical to my own dressing room mirror—and him, standing where the mirror once was, shattered glass scattered beneath his feet and reflecting the candlelight and red velvet curtains like a stained-glass window.

"Christine," the melodious tenor voice of my dreams called out to me. A new white mask obscured the twisted flesh beneath, his new change of suit impeccably fit and clean. He was carrying a black leather suitcase in one hand and a candlestick in another. Tossing the candlestick aside, he extended a black-gloved hand towards me. "Come."

I stood on trembling legs, my head throbbing and stomach roiling. Overwhelmed, exhausted, and defeated, I yielded and slowly stepped towards him. Closing the gap between us, I gently placed my hand in his.

With one final glance at me, he turned around, and pulled me with him into the darkness beyond the mirror.

—-—-—-—

Thank you fellow phans for to reading this story! As fellow writers know, reviews are much appreciated, and I'd love to hear your thoughts. Stay tuned for chapter 2, and I hope you all have a lovely day!