Hey Guys! This story is taking place with a modern-day Erik and Christine, starting in medias res, in past the point of no return. Instead of taking place in France, I have moved it to New York, at the Met, just to keep the story flowing. This is a mixture of kay Erik, and ALW Erik. Just a little thought bubble I would like to put to the test. I purposely did not say what mask Erik wore, it is for you, my readers, to decide if he wears a half or whole mask. Please like, favorite, and review! Thoughts are italicized in this story, good luck! If you have any questions, please comment and I will get back to you. This story was partly inspired by a Phic I read, Volée by VeroniqueClaire.
My re-creation.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Warning: Kinda gory. I tried to keep it light. Light swearing.
The metropolitan opera house, New York, NY.
Modern Day
His voice encompassed her, fully and completely. The voice that was from Apollo himself. Each note, each strand of perfect melody held her In a daze.
And then it was gone. Ripped away as reality set in.
Where she had seen light, she now saw darkness. where she saw desire, she now saw blood.
The phantom moved in graceful, languid movements. His amber eyes scorched through the cloak he wore, causing a flame to stir in her chest. But, at last she saw through his game, she could see nothing but murder and betrayal.
That's what he was. A murderer. He had killed Buquet, hanging him like a dog. He had nearly quite killed Raoul. She had every right to despise him, every right to want him dead.
But she didn't.
She couldn't.
Her breath hitched as he spun around her, barely catching a lock of her hair in his long, bony fingers. Once again, he had placed her in a foggy trance.
His hands wandered around the lace of her bodice, grasping the swell of her skirt. The audience was captivated as he danced around her, each step was graceful- catlike. His hands seemed to draw the audience in, each touch- each movement drew eyes to the spot.
The cloak's black fabric seemed to slide off his frame- like the oleaginous night. His musician's fingers danced along her jawline, brushing against her mane of auburn curls, caressing them. Her traitorous eyes dared to look at the audience, oblivious to the war she was fighting this very second.
His voice purred next to the shell of her ear, dripping with lust. Her mind clouded, her senses focusing on that touch, on that voice, and on the elaborate plan that would condemn them all.
This was to be the end? The end of some tragic, twisted love story? Of monster and maiden, fates ever intertwined? Her dark thoughts twirled- marveling at how terrible yet pleasing thought something forbidden could be.
Erik moved his hand as low as he dared, tugging the lace of her bodice, singing through that thrice damned cloak- exposing his desire to the world for all to see. His voice was like power given a soft silky form, like great celestial being had been dammed to walk the earth, singing a lonely, eerie song.
A small gasp escaped her lips as he led her across the stage, his voice echoing in the opera house, his cloak pooling from his frame. He at last grasped her wrist, stopping her movement, and sending jolts of electricity through her body. Her voice seemed to fail her as he sung his last lines, waiting for her to begin. Thoughts raced through her head as she waited for her cue.
I will Conform to the plan. I will save all our lives, even if it condemns his. But...
Damn him. She was an actress- Not a quivering schoolgirl! She could keep her emotions in check!
She began to sing in a daze, following the music perfectly- singing as Erik wanted it to be sung. Full of lust- concupiscence.
She could not afford to slip up- not afford to tip Erik off to their intricate plan, otherwise thousands of lives could be lost. Including hers.
His voice rose to meet hers, drowning out her tedious eddy of thoughts. The mechanical lights swirled as they moved on stage- following each footstep- each graceful tread. Christine spared a glance to the audience, looking at each transfixed face. One caught her eye- Raoul. Beautiful, innocent, Raoul. He stood in his box, looking at the stage- mortified.
He thinks I've made my choice. He thinks I chose Erik. He could not be further from the truth. I have chosen no one.
Nor shall I.
Her body sized as Erik dragged a languid arm across her back- just as she and Raoul locked eyes. Her eyes turned glossy as she stared, and stared, and stared. She looked at her childhood friend, and where bursts of love once lived, the feeling of red hot fear coursed through her. Soon- too soon- Raoul looked away- signaling an agent in the crowd.
Erik placed his cloaked face against hers, once more commanding her attention.
Christine's dress swirled as he brought her form against his, Erik's gloved hands tracing her as they sang. His body tremored against her, his hands shaking as she grabbed him, pulling him to center stage, where at last, their song ended.
She stood there, breathless. Erik's hands began to trace hers, sending tiny, icy tremors through her body.
This is the fate you could choose- a monster. A man. An angel of music. A demon of hell.
Erik spun her, sending her heart wildly pounding, as they now faced each other. Already, traitorous thoughts overwhelmed her. Fear ran through her veins as she fully beheld Erik in his cloaked glory. His proposal rang clear in her mind, giving her a choice- one deadly choice. One choice to condemn them all- left in the hands of a simpering opera singer.
Memories overtook her as she delved into his dazzling yellow orbs.
...
"Marry me- or the boy dies. I love you- let me love you. we could go anywhere!" At his words She quivered, the unnatural way he said them, like a gods-be- damned prayer, bile raised to the back of her throat. Erik continued, not seeming to notice her dilemma, "you will have a place in this world, beside me! My sweet Christine." His hand covered his face as he crawled to her, grasping at the mask, now held in her hands. She shook her head, terror shooting through her veins at what she had seen.
I must get out!
She threw the mask across the room, allowing herself to find an exit to the enormous flat he had taken her to. She ran to the door of the apartment, screaming. She did not want to marry him. She didn't want to marry anyone. She began to work the lock on the doorknob, much to her dismay, it remained locked.
Christine felt cold hands clasp onto her shoulders, and a shudder overtook her. Christine was viciously twirled, now facing Erik- facing his crazed, angry eyes, once more covered by the white mask.
"You little minx- you little viper." Erik growled, something akin to anger flashing in his yellow eyes. Or was it a grotesque form of lust, carnal desires no one should be privy to, desires that even he, the master of deceit couldn't hide.
Tears began to escape Christine's eyes, her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the floor.
"Please... please, don't- don't hurt...me" she stuttered, grasping at the hands on her shoulders. Erik stooped down, lifting her chin up.
"I will not hurt you, little one." he murmured, dragging a finger across her tear-stained cheek, "Christine...Christine" He murmured, gazing into her eyes, "I will not harm you, but, if you do not choose, I promise, the metropolitan opera house will be set ablaze- and that boy of yours will be floating in the East river." Christine's eyes widened, and her body began shaking anew. He stood, leaving her quivering, jumbled mass on the floor.
"Oh God..." she said- tears rolling down her face. "Oh god."
Erik whirled on her- the visible parts of his face contorting in rage.
"If there truly was a god" Erik roared, grabbing her arms and hauling her to him, "Do you think an angel such as yourself would ever have met a... a demon such as I?" His eyes began to turn a dark, clouded brown. His fingers dug deeper into her flesh as he spoke. "Do you think- that god can save you from Lucifer himself?!" Erik ended his rant in a fit a deranged laughter. He suddenly released her- causing her to tumble to the floor. Christine bunched into a quivering ball at his feet.
"No. even Lucifer fears me." to Christine, the words had never been truer.
He turned from her-looking out of the windows covering the far wall- Remorse seemed to fill his voice. "Christine, does it scare you that the devil is in love with you?" Erik turned back to her- finally noticing Christine, crumpled on the floor. "Christine, darling, come now, look here" Erik cooed, lifting her chin up. "Does it scare you, that with a few words, you could be my undoing?" Erik now kneeled in front of her, stroking her cheek. "Does it scare you, that I love you so? That a monster loves you? A monster that would kill and kill again- only for you darling." Christine only nodded- afraid to do much else. Erik's madness seemed sedated- for now.
Her shoulders slumped as Erik once more moved away from her. He stood, smoothing his undone appearance.
"Come, we must return," Erik mused, holding out a bony hand, "Those two fools who run my theatre will be expecting you." Christine grasped his hand, tears still leaking from her eyes."I give you one month. One month to decide your fate and that of the opera house." Erik murmured, ripping his hand from hers.
...
She couldn't choose him. she wouldn't. Not after everything she had seen, his anger, his rage, his face.
And that is why they- not they, Raoul- had devised this dammable plan.
The FBI had been happy to comply with Raoul's family. Special agents had been placed in the audience, in the wings, and sometimes, on the stage itself, they had swarmed the place, to save a chit such as her.
And the entire opera house. A little voice yelled in the back of her head.
Christine's cue finally rang out through the entire theatre, but instead of letting herself walk from the stage, Christine stepped forward, an apology gracing her lips as she yanked back Erik's hood.
Gasps escaped the audience as she bolted away from him- his bone white mask now on full display. Tears slipped from Christine's eyes as Erik grasped her arms, pulling her close. He began a new song, one that baffled the orchestra and those preparing to return the stage.
The song was mournful, it was tender, it was nothing like he had shown her before. For one glimmering moment, he was not Erik, the deceiver- the man. No, he was her angel. Erik stood before her, pleading with her- for some semblance of love she did not think she could give. and then, the worst happened.
Erik yanked a black onyx ring from his gloved finger, and slipped it onto hers, his yellow eyes pleading with her for something- anything.
Any emotion- any remorse or pity shown would kill her- for he would take her, and never let her go.
And so, she molded her features into stone.
Christine began walking to Erik, but not for what he expected- no, she was going to do the unthinkable. It was what Raoul had devised for her to do- it was what the police wanted her to do. What choice did she have?
Christine inched closer and closer to Erik, fear muddling her thoughts. Erik reached out to her, and Christine finally made her move, she grabbed at the edges of his mask, pulling it free from his face- exposing Erik to the audience.
His face was a twisted, mangled piece of flesh, smattered with areas of scars and misplaced cartilage, outfitted with pieces of translucent, reddened skin. His upper lip was inflamed to an extreme degree, and his nose seemed to be completely lacking all cartilage. A giant hole seemed to open upon his skull. Erik let out a gut-wrenching scream at what she had done.
"You have made your choice!" Erik grabbed her, pulling her to him as multiple gunshots were fired from the wings of the stage. Christine felt the bullet whirl past her torso, and sensed Erik stiffen behind her, letting out a largely unintelligible string of curses. Soon police swarmed the stage, guns pointed at them- or more importantly- Erik.
"Erik!" she yelled, struggling affirm what she had thought. Christine felt a warm stickiness clump to her hair- fear paralyzed her. Blood oozed down the small of her back, dripping from her skirt. He thoughts slowed- the universe slowed- as she focused on the blood dripping from her back.
I have made a terrible mistake. A terrible, dammable, awful, mistake. Why. Why did agree to this?!
But I didn't know they wanted to kill him! But... why did I even let them? I should have guessed! Is this what I wanted?
Erik began to yank her this way and that, another gunshot was fired- the bullet whipped past her ear, Erik let out a gut-wrenching, blood chilling scream. He pushed her away from him. Christine sprawled on the floor, Tears slipped from her eyes when she smelled the sharp tang of wet blood on her face.
Dear god- there going to kill him! My angel! My-
Explosions rang through the theatre and plaster spewed from the ceiling as Christine was thrown this way and that- Erik stood amid everything- a deranged look gracing his features. Police men ran for shelter- leaving just Erik and Christine. Another loud explosion emitted from the theatre- screams of the shocked audience at last reached her ears- thousands upon thousands of raging feet swept through the theatre, vying for a way out of the madness. Erik stood in the middle of the stage clutching his side and smiling- smiling- as plaster and metal rained from various parts of the theatre. He turned to the police leaving the theatre- and let out a malefic chortle.
Why did I let this happen? He's gone mad. Utterly and predictably mad. I have entwined my life with that of a highly functioning sociopath.
But... He is my Erik. An angel. A monster. A Ma-
She screamed as he suddenly vanished through a trapdoor, flames swirling in the spot- and soon she was falling too. Blackness seemed to swallow her- she felt weightless- not unlike Alice, falling through the rabbit hole. In truth there were many correlations to her story and that of Alice's. The darkness seemed to just let her fall- no barriers no-
A sharp cry escaped as she landed on what seemed to be an... air-mattress? Erik's low timbre spoke from behind her, pain just barely registering in his voice.
"Move quickly Christine." She heard shuffling footsteps behind her- then felt a wet, sticky hand upon her forearm. "From my deductions we have ten minutes before someone shows them the passages into the underbelly of the Met, and even less time if they break those trapdoors down" Christine was jarred from her daze, and rolled off the air-mattress, into Erik's lithe frame. A tremor seemed to roll through him- Christine noticed this- yet, she wondered, would saying anything anger the madman?
"Christine- we have to move." Erik gently pushed Christine forward, jarring her from her thoughts. When she did not budge he began to drag her through the tunnels- awkwardly grabbing her wrist and tugging. She had no choice but to follow.
The metropolitan opera house... in flames. Erik- behind her...shot.
"You've been shot." Christine stated bluntly. Confusion muddled her already jarred and addled brain.
"Yes, twice." Erik grunted, obviously in pain, giving a harsh tug on her wrist. "Hurry up- lest I need to carry you in my already impaired state" Christine moved down the dark passage, following Erik's lithe, panting, form in a perfect, robotic daze. Erik quickly discarded his cumbersome cloak before they emerged in an alley. A sleek, jet black jaguar was parked near the end, engine already purring smoothly.
"Get in. Now." Erik growled through clenched teeth, moving to the driver's seat, ungracefully setting himself into the car with a moan. Christine sat shotgun, buckling herself into the car just as it sped off.
...
Erik shifted gears smoothly, speeding through the crowded city. He made a swift right into a seemingly endless parking garage. Blood was pooling from his shoulder and flank, staining the smooth leather of car. Christine watched as Erik parked the car and began to rummage through the center console, pulling out another one of his impeccable, white masks.
"Get out." Erik growled, heaving himself from the car, grabbing a credit card-like piece of plastic. Erik handed her the card and the keys, bracing himself on a concrete wall of the parking garage.
"Erik..." Christine murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Go. Be free of me. That card allows you to exit from the garage, then run." Erik fumed, placing a bloody hand over his side. Christine placed a hand under his uninjured side, Fear lacing through her as she felt blood stick to her hands and dress.
"Erik. We have to stitch your wounds." Christine cautioned, scanning Erik for any more injuries. Making sure that blood was not seeping from his wounds too fast.
"So, you have chosen me?" Erik asked, a pained, hopeful noise emitting from his throat. Christine shook her head, and motioned to the elevator.
"No...I... I can't" Christine said, looking at Erik with large, pleading eyes. "You Have to understand- it was an impossible choice" Erik snarled, causing Christine to flinch at his ire.
Erik fumed, slamming a bloody fist against the wall, the sharp movement caused him to flinch- releasing a slow moan. "I have done everything a woman such as yourself would want... would- would need."
Christine seethed. "A woman such as myself." Christine hissed, taking an enraged step towards Erik. "Yes, I suppose someone given an impossible choice in an impossible amount of time would change anyone into a woman such as myself." She Screeched. "I have stayed with you because you helped me! You saved me and warmed my gods be dammed heart of sadness!" she pointed towards her chest- leaving him gaping, supporting himself on the wall. "Now..." Christine said, composing herself, " We need to stitch you up. Then I will leave. Is that quite alright by you?"
"F- Fine" Erik managed to choke out, letting the gravity of the situation sink in. His wounds throbbed, and he slid further down the wall. Christine gently laced her shoulder under his, allowing him to stagger from the wall.
Erik allowed her to check his wounds briefly before helping him walk. The strange bloodied pair staggered toward the elevator in a mismatch of steps. Christine noticed large bloodstains pooling from of Erik's suitcoat.
She set Erik down on the elevator wall, then Christine repeatedly jammed her fingers into the elevator button. They staggered into the elevator, Erik moved from Christine's side and placed the card in a slot, pressing a mismatch of buttons before the elevator began to ascend.
The elevator ride felt like ages to Christine, when in truth she knew it was only a few minutes. The elevator doors opened into a hall where soft, satiny carpets lay on the floor, and dark mahogany paneling lined the walls. There was only one door at the end of the hall. Christine assumed it to be Erik's, and acting on her assumptions, she shoved the keys into the lock, twisting and turning until she heard a soft 'click'. The door swung open to reveal the dimly lit apartment, exactly as she remembered it.
Dark wood paneling lined the walls, doors stood on either side of the entryway, a dark staircase wound up the far wall. It was like one of the old NY apartments you'd see in magazines. Christine shook Erik from his half-dazed slumber. She earned a small growl from the man.
"Erik. Erik." Christine said, begging to the cathartic Erik she was supporting. She shifted his fading body, finding some way to make him comfortable, "I need to find your room." Erik took a limping step away from her, motioning to the third door on the left of the hall. Christine immediately laced her arm under Erik's shoulder, helping him to his room. "Is there any way to get you to a doctor?" Christine whispered, her stomach revolting as she felt Erik's side, covered in blood.
"No." Erik grunted, moving towards his room. "No... doctor" He ground out through gritted teeth.
Fine, then I must do...something.
Christine gasped at the room itself, Windows lined the farthest wall, letting anyone look out onto central park. A massive, concert sized piano stood in the corner. The legs of the piano were carved into vines and lilies. Although, the Pièce de résistance, was the four- poster bed dominating the room. The bed itself was made of rich, deep wood, the headboard was carved with intricate baroque swirls, a thick black canopy draped over the top. Christine led Erik to the bed in a jumble of steps, she laid him down, causing string of curses to emit from the man.
"Sorry..." Christine began, looking for something, anything, to say. Instead, she focused on Erik- more specifically, his wounds. She removed Erik's suitcoat, to a horror of blood. Christine began to gather her thoughts searching, scanning for anything-
What do I do?... -There's so much blood. Too much. Dammit. Dammit! Dammit!
She had not allowed herself to notice the damage bullets had wracked on his body- and now that she did... Christine rallied her thoughts.
You need to remove the bullets. Stitch the wounds. Maybe cauterize them.
"Erik...Erik" Christine murmured, gaining his attention. "Do you have a first aid kit anywhere?" Erik lifted a cathartic finger, pointing to the back of the room. Christine immediately followed. She discovered a marble bathroom- fit for an emperor. Christine took only a few moments to admire the bathroom- then she began to work. she pulled out drawers and cabinets, looking for everything she would need, yet, her dress was restricting her movements- wire in the dress was robbing her of breath. Even Christine knew, inexperienced as she was, that it was no good to be unable to move quickly while stitching someone. Christine looked around the bathroom once more, and this time it was not for medical supplies.
A few minutes later she found exactly what she was looking for- a plain white button-up shirt. Perfect. Christine hastily undid the buttons of her dress, sliding the layers of petticoats and satin from her frame, leaving only her black nylons and underwear. She hastily slipped on the shirt, buttoning it up as she gathered items in the bathroom. At last she was finished, she brought the jumble of items to Erik, who was lying lethargic on the bed. She set the items in a neat row, and began to rouse her bloody companion. "Erik. I need you to wake up." she begged- Erik began to rouse from his languor. "Oh, thank god." Christine croaked, running a hand down his blood- soaked garments. "Erik...Erik- I need you to sit up." Christine tears began to well in her eyes as she saw blood covering the bed. Erik complied with her request. Christine began to grab at his suit shirt, rapidly undoing buttons. Erik pushed her hands away.
"What in the s- seven layers of hell do... you think you are doing." Erik moaned, grabbing her wrists. His eyes, seemed to cloud over as he fully took her in. "What" Erik cleared his throat, his eyes snapping back up to hers "what...Are you wearing"
Christine's face flushed- looking down at her state of undress. "I- I" she stuttered. "My- my dress. The- the c-corset." Her face flushed as Erik's eyes wandered. She regained her confidence and spoke again, " I... I couldn't move properly. I am sorry" She shifted uncomfortably as Erik once more examined her. "I need to... dress your wounds" she stuttered once more, holding up the gauze bandages and several more objects.
"Fine." He snorted. "Get on with it." He allowed her to once more unbutton his shirt, though this time, she did so carefully. She peeled the bloody shirt from his body, looking at his now exposed wounds.
They were smaller than she had imagined.
Two bullet wounds, one had grazed his shoulder, the other had scratched itself a bit deeper in his flesh, although, there was a clean entry and exit wound for both, neither required stitches.
"Thank god." Christine murmured. She had been overreacting. Erik would be fine.
...
Christine lifted herself from the bed, content with her work on Erik. Erik- who had fallen asleep on the bed. He seemed so content when he was asleep, no signs of his madness, no signs of his torture or cynical malice. Just sweet, pure Erik. She began to run her bloody fingers on the edge of the mask, marveling at the twisted skin barely touching her bloody fingers.
An hour ago I called him a monster- I do not know how I could.
She laced her fingers under the mask, marveling at the twisted yet soft skin she felt beneath.
A bony hand shot up- grabbing her throat, squeezing ever so gently. Christine spluttered as Erik squeezed tighter and tighter. He seemed to rise from the bed, his amber eyes blazing into hers. His Half- naked body smothered hers as he pushed her onto one of the bedposts. The wood cut into her skin, she whimpered, and Erik only held her firmer.
His eyes blazed into hers. Such fire, passion, and anger filled them. Lust burned bright in his face as she squirmed. He Brought a finger up to trail down her cheek, following the trail of her washed away makeup. His lips began to descend on hers as she writhed.
She pushed him back. Hard. She pulled and thrashed and yelled. Christine finally managed to throw his body away from hers.
He fell back into the pillows, his gaze dulling as he awoke from whatever daze he was in.
"How..." Christine murmured, a deadly note in her voice, "How dare you-" her voice escalated as her anger peaked "you... you monster" She stepped off the massive bed in a pained movement. Snatching her dress from where it rested on the floor, she slipped it over the shirt she wore. She turned to Erik, her eyes boring through him. "I am leaving. I have done just as I said, and I will do no more." she paused, mulling over her next words, "I do not care for you.. like...like that." Malice was laced in her voice, like a deadly dagger poised over Erik's heart. Each annunciated word an arrow thrust into his damned soul. soon, whatever pain he felt had turned to anger.
Erik shook his head, giving a small chortle. "Darling... you think you can leave?" Erik mused, his eyes boring into hers. Erik rose from the bed with grace, not at all like a seriously wounded man should be acting.
Yet, was Erik a normal man?
"you think..." Erik drawled on, stepping closer to the terrified Christine "That I would let the love of my life walk out- without so much of a goodbye to poor... unhappy Erik?" He deftly hooked his arms around her midsection, grasping her near to him despite her vehement struggling.
"cretin!" Christine shouted, landing a well-aimed blow to Erik's stomach. Christine freed herself from Erik's grasp, sprinting for the doors of the apartment. Erik limped after her.
When Christine finally grasped at the door of the apartment, Erik let out a deranged laugh. Christine looked back at him, tears leaking from her eyes. Fear had fully consumed her- it raced through her veins, icy yet burning. She watched as Erik continued to move forward- toward her.
"Christine" Erik murmured, a bemused chortle leaving his lips. "Darling Christine… you think you can leave- without immediate capture from me and my assets?"
"Yes!" Christine yelled, attempting to throw open the doors. It was a childish notion to think she could escape- but she felt she had to. For her safety and her sanity.
Christine felt cold, bony fingers wrap around her arms, twirling her around- the motion like a coiled wire being sprung, or two tectonic plates grinding against each other, releasing force- an earth -shattering quake
"Get the Hell away from me you-savage! You monster!" His eyes snapped to hers in a desperation she could not understand, he fell to his knees- tears leaking from those pitiful orbs.
Those eyes that could burn a thousand men with a single glance.
She kneeled next to her fallen angel as sobs wracked his body.
Steps sounded from outside the apartment. A flash of anger and betrayal shot through Erik's eyes. He turned towards the door, then back to Christine, seeming to take little alarm from the steps.
Must not have mattered.
Suddenly, he surged for her, covering her body with his. Harsh zip ties were pulled and tightened on Christine's wrists- and she was being dragged back to the stairs of the apartment. Where did he even get zip ties!? Erik quite nearly threw her to the ground, he then zip-tied her ankles, preventing all escape on her part. Christine heard the soft patter of foot steps behind the door of the apartment.
"I am sorry my beautiful Christine…" Erik whispered, gazing at his muse, tied on the floor- helpless. She heard the steps again, yet made no attempt to move.
Christine sat there while Erik stood to face the door- drawing a pistol from seemingly nowhere. Fear shot through Christine's belly, coiling around her heart.
"My dear, it seems we have a guest."
"Erik." Christine pleaded, not knowing If there was indeed someone behind the door to the apartment. Erik made no effort to move.
"Erik- angel! Please!" Christine pleaded once more, looking at the deadly predicament that had seemed to arise.
If there was someone behind that door- especially someone who could get her out of this mess- and Erik killed them…. She would be left with nothing. No hope of release. No knight in shining armor. Christine thought, listening to the sounds outside with rising fear. She heard a muffled shout- then nothing. Erik still did not move, his gun was still raised, and it was still aimed at the door with deadly precision.
"Have you finally lost all sense Erik?" Christine screamed, thrashing about from her spot on the floor. Erik cocked the gun, standing with his arm outstretched "What in the hell are you doing!? Can you see that there is no need to kill anyone?! Put down your gun!"
Christine sat there- mortified at the mere thought of in the of some sort of delusional holding a cocked gun against anyone who managed to break through that door. Yet- in the interstice of Christine's bout of screaming and petrified silence, the doorknob began to jiggle.
Soon the jiggles became shouts.
Then loud bangs could be heard from the outside.
The door collapsed inward. A man with golden hair -and a gun of his own entered.
Raoul.
Raoul carried her from the apartment- gun in hand, Blood caking his evening shirt. Blood covered her hands, her hair, her lips. Everywhere was blood. Her blood. Christine's head swam in a sleepy, drug like daze.
What had he done? Christine mused, grotesquely marveling at the ruby beads covering her hands.
What had Raoul done? The droplets of red ran down her body and face in gory lines. Christine vaguely felt Raoul squeezing her arm. Lights swarmed her vision- like little lightning strikes. She reached out a hand, marveling at the sources of light.
Sudden pain Crashed through her chest- pain that she had all but forgotten. The flashes came back with a fury. Black and white clouding her vision.
Cameras? Christine thought in confusion- Oh yes. the opera. The opera!
I have been shot.
Christine fainted right then and there. The shock and trauma of her ordeal consuming her.
Post script:
The car that Erik drove is a 2018 jaguar F- type.
Christine's dress is modeled after the stage play- she does not wear the wedding dress in this Phic.(Yet- teehee)
Erik is kinda a sociopath, but still has more empathy, along with a dash of caring for others. (Wow hannah, cooking up a guy. Hot damn.)
Creepy Erik.
Whew. The emotions ran Wiiiilllld. Like- jaguar eating a gazelle wild. (wonderful analogy(not))
YES CHRISTINE HAS BEEN SHOT ALL WILL BE EXPLAINED IN THE NEXT CHAPTER
First, being myself, and living near the Chicago-land area, I would have loved to move this story to the lyric opera house of Chicago, however, due to the current social structure and overall messiness of the city (as well as the small size of Chicago compared to NY), and the not- famous-ness of the lyric, I decided against it.
To all of you who live in New York, I am deeply sorry that I probably messed up some key aspect of your home city. I have only been there once (For two days,)
ALL WHO COMMENT WILL BE PMed OR I WILL MESSAGE YOU. I LOVE IT WHEN YOU LEAVE COMMENTS OR PM ME and I will respond with my gratitude accordingly. (Unless I am too anxious to contact you- which does happen)
PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: I DELETED THIS STORY AND RE POSTED IT BECAUSE I MADE SOME ALTERARTIONS AND MAY CONTINUE THIS STORYLINE. LIVE LONG AND PROSPER MY FREINDS.