Dear Diary
Erik reflects on his last words to Christine
She had come back. If only for a brief moment, to give me the ring back. She had looked at me differently, she looked as though she had wanted to say something. She didn't however, just silently removed the ring and given it to me. I should have said something to keep her there, to make her stay, but all I could say was 'Christine, I love you'. The honest truth, and she had turned and left me, though she had looked back. As the young Vicomte had inexpertly steered my gondola away from my home and towards their new life together, she had looked back. Much good it did.
I spent days going over in my mind those last few hours, the look in Christine's eyes as she sang my opera, the fire I saw in her when I gave her the choice of staying with me and letting the boy live or leaving and seeing him die. The pity and also a whisper of something I couldn't quite place when I asked her to choose. And the open acceptance in her eyes when she'd kissed me. I relived that kissed a thousand times in my mind. The feel of her warm, soft body in my arms, the gentle yet passionate touch of her lips against mine. The one piece of heaven she had granted me before leaving. I couldn't ruin her life after that. I couldn't shackle her to a loathsome gargoyle like myself, nor could I bring myself to kill the young man she loved. So I let them go, I let her have the kind of life she deserved, in the light. She would be happy in that life. A Vicomtess, an opera star. She would be a wife and mother, she would be cared for, protected, provided for out in the world of life and love and light. Surrounded by friends with her own special family. Vicomte De Chagny could give her everything I could not. I was content in the knowledge that my beautiful Christine would be happy. As for myself, I have nothing left but my memories. So I will close my eyes and remember, as I lie on this cold, hard floor, waiting for death.