I know I'm churning out Phantom one-shots at an odd pace for me, but I guess I'm just riddled with ideas this month. So, here it is, a piece where I actually care about Christine. :Gasp: As usual, I own nothing but a tub of chocolate sauce, a can of whipped cream and the Phantom of the Opera in his glorious Red Death outfit in my closet! Enjoy!

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All the World's a Stage

I suppose, looking back on it all, I made the wrong choice. I know I did something wrong along the way, I even realize I did most of it wrong.

I let everyone use me, all for different purposes but, in the same sense, I allowed myself to be completely manipulated.

It began with that day Madame Giry suggested to Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin that I sing La Carlotta's part in 'Hannibal'. I didn't want to do it, it made me sick and nervous, but I put on that smile and did what pleased them.

All my life has been spent doing what pleases people.

I have grown weary of spending every moment to make others happy. My happiness no longer exists; it did once, now it's gone.

My current life with Raoul De Chagny is glamorous, if not wonderful, but it lacks the correct things to be satisfying.

I had that satisfaction with Monsieur O.G.

I threw it away when I chose Raoul over him. It's too late to go back, now, too late for muddled apologies and the fervent, passionate kisses that would probably ensue should I make the choice to return to him.

It's so funny, isn't it? How one can love someone whom they've only known through dreams and mirrors.

Yet, one chooses that which they feel safer with. Monsieur O.G…..no, Erik, his name was Erik. Erik was a gamble, in a sense, a risk I was too young and too fearful to take.

Raoul could give me love, security, wealth, everything. Raoul could make me feel like one of the most fortunate women in the world.

What could Erik give me?

Passion was surely there. The passion I possessed for him he returned thousand fold. Love….yes, some odd, strange, unnatural form of love that teetered on the brink of obsession. Devotion, I was sure he overflowed with it for me.

But to spend the rest of my days in a dank hell beneath the Opera Populaire? I would never survive.

Out of fear, I chose to follow Raoul. I look back and realize my mistakes, now.

I shattered a man who deeply loved me, worshipped me, adored me. I broke a monster that was obsessed with me, needed me, wanted me.

I chose the glow of the warm sun over the cool breeze of nights' dark blanket.

These thoughts were the punishment for making the incorrect choice.

Everyone used me. For my voice, for my body, for my fame. When it all came down to it, everyone was just out for personal benefit and required me in order to gain that.

Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin tugged me along like a dog on a leash, forcing me into show after show. I was naïve, I'm always naïve, so I went with it.

Even Raoul used me, to get to the Phantom. I was forced to sing in 'Don Juan Triumphant' and it was he who made me do it, saying it was 'for the good of everyone, for the good of our love'.

Look where it lead me to.

Most of all, Erik used me. He used me to try to fill the gaping hole in his chest that would have been his heart, had his life been different. He lived through me, using my voice to get what he wanted. He used me to satisfy his needs, his wants to be in control.

He didn't mean to.

I've just been a puppet on a string to everyone, allowing myself to be pulled this way and that to bring success to each individual.

I let them use me.

As was said by William Shakespeare, 'all the world's a stage, and all its people players'. It's true; I'm a prime example of that.

I can't help but regret choosing Raoul. Every so often I imagine what my life would have been like had I chosen the darker side of life.

Would he nuzzle me softly, hold me close to him and murmur sweet nothings in my ears?

Would I awaken from a nightmare to the sound of his heart racing against my ear as he softly stroked my hair and told me it was just a dream?

Or would he be how usually was, would he be cold and indifferent and uncaring?

These were just things I could imagine, wonder about.

Raoul was gentle, caring, loving and devoted. But Erik, ohh Erik was so much more. He was dark, complex and admittedly rough around the edges. He was passionate, strong and bold. Raoul was the exact opposite. Raoul was tender and soft, his kisses were as gentle as butterflies fluttering upon my lips. Erik's kisses were rough and possessing, openly admitting to his need for me.

All I could do was wonder and looks back on all my mistakes. All I could do was keep pretending.

As they say, all the world's a stage.