Behind His Mask
Phantom of the Opera
Rated: T-sexual themes, and violence
Inspired by the ALW and Gaston Leroux versions
Christine awoke, surrounded by velvet and candles. She heard the faint sound of a violin wailing in the distance. She dizzily got out of the mass of pillows and fabric that had been a bed. She shivered as her toes touched the cold stone. Her white dressing robe draped behind her. She looked about not sure what could be wait behind the corner. She followed the music until she saw her masked teacher.
She began to sway to the music, like it was entrancing her. She hummed along with it. She drew closer, then Erik turned and noticed her. "Yes Christine, you know the tune. On "La" my dear!" she drew closer dancing about and singing according to her angels demand. "Oh yes, stunning, perfect pitch! Crescendo dear!" Her voice grew strength as he played the final notes. She snapped back out of the trance the music put on her. She gazed into Erik's eyes confused. "That music…" she uttered.
"Would you like to hear more? Oh Christine, all the music I could play you! For eternity, I can play you the purest of music, as I'm blessed with the purest of voices, you. Come, Christine." He said overjoyed. Christine was nervous, she thought "For eternity." He held her hand and led her to the bed once again. Only then did Christine notice off in the distance, a coffin. She lost her breath momentarily, then Erik stroked her hand and she fell under his spell. She restrained. "Forever?" she uttered. "Why of course Christine, you think I'd let you go back? No, no never. Not back to that world of filth. You'll stay her, and sing for me, as you were born to." He stroked her cheek. He lifted his bow and began to play.
She was lulled dreamily, the last note was played. "May I see your face?" She said unsure. "Why would you ask such a thing." he said nearly dropping his instrument standing. "I want to know who you are. Why not show me?" She said drawing closer. He nudged her back slightly. "No, and subject you to hell itself? No! No one deserves to look upon this face. You'd die the second you'd see it!" He wailed forcefully placing down his violin. "If you can make such beautiful music, I'm sure your face is equally as beautiful. Please just let me see the face of an angel!" She sleepily pulled on his sleeve. "If you wanted to see an angel, you should look in the mirror. Beauty is the opposite of me. I'm, death itself, I'm a corpse, a gargoyle, a demon a devil. Im a mistake of God! A festering wound serves as my face! Do you know what you ask!" He boomed. Christine drew closer and held his arm to her chest. "Please, I know if I saw your face I wouldn't laugh, nor, scream, nor cry. I promise you, just let me see your face." She pleaded.
Erik gripped her shoulder. "No! You will not see it! Now why don't we use your voice for what its made for, shall we?" He grabbed her arm forcefully and pulled her to the organ. She let out a little whimper and Erik's face collapsed. "Christine I…" he uttered then holding it back with anger. He played furiously. "Sing, Christine." He called. She sang reluctantly and nervously. She moved closer behind him and grabbed his mask and tore it off. He wailed. He turned failing his arm at her, knocking her over.
He turned with force and peered down at her through the two black pits that where his eyes. "Feast your eyes! Look at this face with your very eyes!" Erik boomed at Christine shrieking back, trying to look away crying from disgust. "See Christine! This God forsaken creature, made of death from head to toe, loves you! And will never leave you and shall never let you go!" Christine covered her eyes wailing. "Ah, so your dishonest with me Christine! You deceitful little fiend, a conniving vixen, an eager brazen harlot, oh Christine who would know!" Erik snapped drawing closer to her. "Look at me! Look into the eyes of a living corpse!" He pulled her arm up and gripped it tight. "Your hurting me." Christine whimpered through tears gripping her eyes shut. "Just a little retribution my beloved minx, discipline is all a part of singing is it not, Christine?"
He took her huddled body up in his arms. Christine flailed about crying. "What are you doing!" She moaned. Erik let out a slight snicker, "Patience, my dear." He said almost mockingly. He flung Christine into the pile of sheets and pillows she awoke before. He pinned her arms down. "Look! Look, deep into my face. Your never leaving, your mine, forever, you belong to me." Erik teased in her ear. "Help God above, help me! Raoul, Raoul! Help me Raoul!" She screamed struggling beneath Erik. "You dare speak that name before me? You have the blatant fortitude to speak such a slanderous name before me? Oh Christine you have no idea the path which your leading yourself down. Speak it again, and ill cut out that lovely tongue of yours. Who knew angles could lie, huh, my sweet nightingale?" He laughed. "Good God," Christine murmured to herself. "I'd rather die than stay here with you!" She spat turning her eyes away.
Erik's expression turned to the epitome of tragic woe. A single tear rolled down his skeletal face. "Rather die? Oh Christine, your words they're like a knife right through Erik's black heart. How could you. You told me you could bear my face now, you'd rather die than see it. Erik truly is the ugliest of God's creations. To bring such suffering upon such a perfect creation." He eased off his grip and caressed the side of Christine cheek only to have he pull her face away in agony. His sadness melded to anger. "So, Christine, you made your choice. There's no escape for you, your now a prisoner to Erik's love," he moved his hands to her breasts. "And passion." He tore open her bodice. She squealed "Oh God in heaven no! Somebody save me!" She cried. "Oh, those breasts, large and warm." He let out a groan, burying his face in them laying kisses on them. He eased his hand up her skirt and fondled with her wet womanhood. Her face blushed a deep red and she breathed heavily, eyes still shut. Erik was stimulated by the sight. And let out a lustful moan. "Ah Christine, is this the first time your learning of the carnal joys of passion. I can feel it, my little dove. Squirm beneath me you wretched girl. You dare reject me!" Erik mocked her arousal. She began to cry up and took his hand. "No! No! Please! I beg of you stop! I'm sorry! Forgive me!" Erik stopped, terrified with himself, his actions, his words.
"Oh, angel, I-I-I oh damned face of mine! Drive me to harm the one beautiful thing I know! Oh I've sullied her, God strike me now! Drag me to the depths of Hades for my misdeed! Oh Christine! You ask forgiveness of me? No! I beg of you forgiveness. Kill me now, how could I injure you so? My sweet song bird. I beg you forgive Erik! Forgive the devil, Erik! That you may sing again." He said crying into her dress. She looked on to him in pity, she covered herself and took the mask she had gripped all along, and handed it to him. "There is indeed a God, you soft pure angel. Forsaken to hell by Erik's love." He stood up and reasserted his dominance. He outstretched his hand. "Come Christine, we must return. Those two fools who run my opera will be missing you."