It had been over a year since Christines last night with Eric, six months since Raohl had left, leaving Christine alone to wallow in her own grief. She had been living in their home since then, but the money was beginning to dry up and her voice had not been as profitable as it had been before. She had no where left to turn. She sat on the edge of her bed, mind turning from all the worries she was facing. Where else could she possibly go at this point? Her mind flickered to a thought, fleeting but so potent it caught her off guard. But no... she couldnt possibly return to him. Not after what she had put him through. Not after she had broken his heart and left him for someone else. She didnt even know if he was still there, he must have fled from the mob after all. She paused and took in a deep breathe. Just the idea of seeing him again had brought a new hope into her eyes. She decided, she would set off in the morning and try to find him. And if he wasnt there, if he had left for good, she would resort to other options to quite her broken heart. She looked cautiously at her writing desk across the room and saw the silver letter opener sitting next to scattered papers. It was a small silver blade with a carved bone handel. It had been her fathers, and if she needed to, she would use it to join him. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind for now, afraid that if she dwelled on it any longer it would consume her. For now she just needed to focus on finding Eric.
The night passed agonizingly slowly and Christine barely slept. Most of the night she spent agonizing over what details and facts she thought would be useful in her pursuit for her love. She woke up to the beginnings of sun peaking through the window. She went about getting ready and finished packing a few belongings into a small bag. She slipped her small knife into the pocket of her travel cloak, where it could be kept close incase of need. She took one last look around the house that she had once believed would be the key to her happiness. She closed the front door and locked it with a small key. Turning, she found a carrige, and as they began the journey to the opera house, Christine looked back at the towering house that may be the last home she will ever know.