The Point Of No Return
Names after my favorite song in POTO this story is a little bit different that the one we heard, but alas, only fools turn to tell the tale twice.
Let it that I may be called then, a fool.
Raoul had never been drunker. The alcohol came out each and every pore, and his clothes that might have once been a regal blue was now covered in a filth that would never be removed. Yet how could the count fall so far? Even that one night in Monte-Carlo wasn't enough to do this much. But that night in Monte-Carlo was long ago, and so was his marriage. Oh Christine! What he would give for one more night with her, even an hour! He remember how pale she looked as the blood escaped her, her bright red lips taunting him, knowing that in the end, even that did not belong to him. What to do with Raoul, he though what to do with Raoul.
"Another drink."
"But sir," the bartender retorted, "don't you think that you might have had enough yet? You've already had-"
"Well, sir, I need another."
The bartender poured another glass and handed it back to Raoul. In the reflection of the glass, Raoul saw the young man- no, boy's expression in disgust, contempt. He had no idea what Raoul had gone through. He would be here all the same if he had known. How Raoul had loved her. How that blasted phantom had loved her, and her to him, blasted opera ghost!
Raoul slammed the drink on the counter, spilling his poison over the counter, drowning his hand. He had to find something, or someone! Just something to take the pain away. Raoul stepped out the door for the first time in days and felt the wind hit him. The chaos never stops on Coney Island, no it never bloody does! Even know, as it was empty, the chaos surrounded him, the thoughts of what happens, happened, here were enough for a circus of a thousand. Raoul looked out to the ocean, and saw the one lone figure, slim, pale, petite. Always moving, always in the water washing away her fears. She wasn't so unlike him. Only she drank with her whole body, not just his mouth.
He scratched at his stubble and saw the face, one that one could never forget, could never un-see. No, it was not that bloody opera ghost to haunt him once more, it was another face a new one. It was calling him, tempting him, calling him toward it with every note of its voice. And he couldn't help but surrender to this siren that pulled forward. Before he had even realized that he was walking, he was there.
The bead clinked softly behind his head as the winds rushed by but he didn't hear them. He was transfixed no this voice calling him it was as if it was a devil, or maybe an angel. He stopped and saw the beautiful face. It tugged at him and pulled yet even as hard as he tried he could not place where he had seen it before. The room felt like an altar, she was the stand and behind her instead of a cross was an arrangement of peacock feathers as grand as could be in a small tent.
She played with the clear sphere in front of her which reflected her ruby red lips and sapphire ears. From inside the sphere came a beady two green eyes. At least it seemed like it, for when he glanced all that he saw were his own eyes ragged face a stubble staring back at him. He panted and felt her sing the words.
Everybody wants something
And he felt the words in his bones and through his muscles and with every fiber that made him he felt the words, everybody wants something. He did want something. He wanted something so bad that he would even kill for it. He felt almost as if he had already.
Would you like to make a deal?
"Yes" he said though he never even moved his mouth, the thick smoke around him surrounded him almost as if it was a lioness about to pounce on its poor unsuspecting prey. He held his breath and he couldn't believe he had spoken to one of those freaks. Yet she was not a freak she was, she was something different. Something he felt he knew well yet he never though he had seen before. The alcohol made his tongue heavy and he tried to keep his breath in but instead ended up panting.
I'll give you whatever you want sir, if you only wish it.
He wished it, he so wished it. She said a few more words but the smoked blocked them form his head; he felt it pounding pounding pounding. He knew he only had to say it; all he had to do was say it. He looked into her eyes, those beautiful eyes that reminded him of a better time and those bright red lips and before he could stop himself he felt himself say
"I wish Christine was still alive."
And so it was done.