"Bravo…"
Christine Daae glanced up, the familiar echoing voice reverberating from somewhere far away. The voice was soft as a child's, but as deep as the sea. It writhed through her body, making her shiver.
"Christine? Christine?"
Meg Giry opened the door. Her smile brought Christine back to reality.
"There you are, Christine! You were wonderful!" she exclaimed, taking Christine's hands.
"Meg, did you hear him? The Angel of Music?" Christine asked, quietly and glancing around.
Meg watched Christine with anxiety, for she saw the fear playing in her friend's eyes. Her lips were turning pale and her cheeks had long lost their pink color.
"What are you talking about? You're making no sense!" Meg cried, pulling Christine close.
Christine smiled serenely, ignoring Meg's fretful pleadings. Hey eyes rested upon the mirror at the end of her dressing room. Like an enticing toy, it drew her to it. The smooth glass reflected her youthful image, seemingly blank. Placing a delicate finger to it, she did not resist to its coldness.
Suddenly, as though from inside a mirror, a shadow flickered on the mirror. It was a black figure, tall and slim. This startled Christine greatly, and she fell back against Meg.
"Did you see that!" she cried in alarm.
"No, Christine! There's nothing there! Come now, the Vicomte is here!"
Meg left the room. Christine saw her brow was still furrowed and her eyes were full of confusion.
As the door closed, the words that Meg had just spoken soaked into Christine's mind.
"The Vicomte de Chagny!" she whispered enthusiastically.
Raoul de Chagny, the Vicomte, had long ago been her childhood friend. He'd been as close to Christine as to her father. Even now, Christine could picture his young, boyish face and his irresistible charm. Her heart skipped a beat, as she remembered his lush, brown eyes.
"Angel…Angel…"
It came again, but closer. The voice, so near, floated from somewhere.
"Angel of Music, is that you?" she sang back uncertainly.
"Come to me, Christine. I am your Angel."
Irresistibly, Christine moved toward the mirror. She knew the voice was coming from there. All she could do was go to it, let its beautiful sound embrace her.
"Come to me Angel of Music…"
5 years later
Christine Daae smeared the dust from the mahogany table beside the old, worn bed of her youth. The familiar faded wallpaper around her seemed to share in her memories. So much evil had invaded her life the past few years, but being surrounded by the innocence of her childhood, Christine couldn't hold on to her tears anymore.
"My love, the horses await us."
The voice of Raoul came behind her. His tone was impatient and strained, as though Christine's wish to return to her home was bothersome.
"Coming, Raoul," she called hopelessly.
As she passed her small bed, her skirts caught hold of something. With a loud, ripping sound, Christine found herself sprawled on the floor with a torn dress. In aggravation, she swept her hands under the bed to see what had caused her fall. Her fingers found an old, wooden chest. Dust clung to the miniscule lock and a red stain covered the side of the box.
"Christine!"
"Coming Raoul!"
Making a quite decision, Christine slid the chest into the folds of her cloak and raced from the room, banging the door shut.
As the carriage took them away from the sad, aged cottage by the sea, Christine slipped her fingers into Raoul's.
"Why don't you call me Little Lotte once more?" she questioned, gazing up at his stone-cold expression.
"A boy must grow to a man sometime in his life. So must a girl to a woman, Christine. You are not Little Lotte. You are about to become The Vicomtess de Chagny," Raoul answered, in a bitter tone he'd only just adapted to using.
"Yes, you are right," she said, in defeat.
Outside the Manor de Chagny
I watched her figure draw close to the window. It was still so young and slender. My fingers twitched as I remembered holding her to my body. Had it only been five years? Tracing down the couple in hopes of regaining Christine, had been eternity.
Abruptly, another shadow fell across the curtains. I was certain it was Raoul. Christine's shadow seemed to cower in the wake of his as he drew closer to her. From the small crack in the window, I could make out their conversation.
"Christine, why are you staring at that damned mirror? Nothing is going to pop out of it."
"Of course not, Raoul, I just thought I saw…"
"You saw nothing."
Raoul's tone grew ever colder with every word he spoke.
"I just thought he was there or it may…"
Suddenly, a shadowy hand flew to Christine's head. The force that struck her knocked her to the floor. With much restraining, I was able to control myself. In my head, death threats pulsed and mad ideas spread throughout my mind. Raoul de Chagny had done far more than I could allow happen.
"Christine, I did not mean… I couldn't bear to think of that year…"
I watched as Christine regained her stance.
"No, I was speaking rashly Raoul. Please, I need rest."
How my heart wept at the sound of her voice! It was so soft and calm, though she was surrounded by corruption.
"Christine, are you sure you won't join me in my room?"
This question almost broke me from my wits. How he dared to say such things to my innocent Angel! How he dared!
"No Raoul! I'm still a free woman!" Christine exclaimed, with admirable strength,
Moments after Raoul had left, the light was extinguished in Christine's room. I could hear her slipping into her bed. Then, there was silence, sweet silence.
With skills I heard earned long ago, I opened the latched window. Not a sound reached my ears. It appeared Christine had traveled far away into her dreams. I found her, lying in a pile of blue-gray pillows, her golden waves cascading from her delicate head. With a trembling finger, I stroked her pale cheek. Her face was so lovely and so sorrowful, that for a moment, I forgot my own misery.
Even just hearing her breath brought back all my agony and grief. My heart was flooded with emotion of the past.
"Why, Christine, why?" I moaned softly.
Without warning, Christine's eyes flickered open and our eyes connected. I tried to break away from her, but she grasped my wrist. It was certainly a stronger hold than I'd expected.
"What in God's name are you doing here?" she whispered harshly.
"What does your heart tell you?" I answered, no longer holding back the volume.
Her eyes instantly flooded with tears. I could feel her hands trembling against my wrist.
"You still love me, Erik. Yet, I'm getting married. I can't be your Angel of Music anymore," she told me, showing a new diamond wedding ring.
For a moment, I wanted to rip the damned thing from her finger, but I resisted.
"I will always be where you are—"
"No, you must leave here. Remember your crimes? You are a marked man, Erik. Go and hide!" Christine explained, cutting me off.
She realized, at once however, the weight of these words.
"I have hidden all my life, my angel. I want to live!" I cried with desperation.
Christine clapped a hand over my mouth. This startled me that she would actually touch my lips once more. One time must have been a burden.
"Christine, who are you taking to!" exclaimed a voice from a room not far away.
There was a pounding of feet and a rustle of a robe. Christine shoved me into her wardrobe and turned just as Raoul thrust open the bedroom door.
"I heard voices!" he bellowed with a fierce gleam in his eye.
Raoul's love for Christine seemed on the brink of obsession. It seemed I was not the only one who'd, in his heart, do anything to make her his. I feared the tragedies of the past would soon arise again.
"It was nothing, my love. I was singing to myself. I do that often, if you must know."
Christine answered with stunning innocent. Her eyes did not flitter to the wardrobe, and I realized she'd no intention of drawing attention to it.
"Somehow, that seems a little farfetched," Raoul murmured, deep in thought.
With a last glance at Christine and a final bid farewell, Raoul was out of the room. I waited until I heard the door down the hall shut to creep out of the place I was hiding.
Christine brought me to her bed once more. Tears shimmered upon her everlasting eyes.
"He's grown so harsh, Erik. I know it is because of the past we both share with him."
For a moment we did not speak. My resistance was ebbing away.
Suddenly, I burst forth from my inner shell and kissed Christine's sweet lips. How soft they were! As I kissed her, I could smell roses. It was a smell I'd long since forgotten. To my amazement, Christine did not pull away. Nor did she struggle. She was accepting my kiss and returning it, too. The kiss lasted but a moment, and when we stopped, a smile hovered around her lips.
"I must go," I exclaimed, moving from the bed to the window.
"Will you come back for me?" my love asked.
"I will!" I whispered excitedly, joy flowing through my veins.
As I flew to the ground, the feeling inside my heart seemed to warm my body with a flame of passion I'd never felt before.
Morning
My hands shook slightly as I climbed the trellis to Christine's window. Tiny buds ran along it, beginning to bloom. I smiled joyously, thinking of my own spring wedding.
"Christine?" I whispered, cautiously inching through the window.
Oddly enough, the window had been tightly locked, though I'd been able to open it. Had Christine forgotten my promise to her? Surely not!
"Christine?" I murmured, growing ever louder.
The room was empty. No trace of a living soul in sight. I knew at once what Raoul had done. Taking Christine at dawn was an ingenious plot for him and I had not been able to stop it in time. My long search had been all for nothing. Christine, my love, my life, my angel was gone.
On the Road Once More
Christine's eyes studied Raoul. She didn't know if he knew or not, but something had driven him from the estate. Possible, she thought, he'd heard Erik's voice and recognized it. Erik was rather loud, but his voice was so glorious and enthralling. Her heartbeat quickened at the thought of his brilliant figure. What did it matter that his face was deformed? Why had she been so pathetically stupid to fear him? He had loved her with all of his heart and had longed for her affection.
"How far are we riding?" she asked, turning to the carriage window.
"To my other estate, 7 miles out of Paris," Raoul said, setting down his paper.
His eyes met hers. An intense feeling of desire emanated from him, making Christine fearful.
"What is it Raoul?" she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady.
"It's been so long since I've kissed you Christine. It seems like years."
With one quick lunge, Raoul had planted his lips upon hers. His kiss was fierce and dreadfully unwanted. Christine felt his tongue sliding along her lips. She held her lips tightly shut and tried to push him away. Instead of succeeding, her hand fell into his. Raoul grasped it and knotted his fingers with hers. The other slid up along her waist, sending chills throughout her body. He moved to her throat, kissing it aggressively.
"Raoul!" she cried, finally freeing her lips.
Raoul seemed to awaken from himself. He fell back and touched his hand to his face as though she'd slapped him.
"Christine!" he exclaimed back.
In his eyes, Christine saw shock and shame. He had almost gone too far and he suddenly knew it. Christine's hand flew to her throat, trying to hide the red marks stinging her skin.
"I… I…I… am sorry…" Raoul whispered, covering his face to hide the tears.
For the first time in long while, while, Christine felt sympathy and compassion. Poor Raoul loved her, but she didn't know how to love him anymore. He was much more a monster than he'd ever been.
Slowly, Raoul took her hand away from her throat and inspected the marks.
"Christine, I'm so sorry. I acted rashly again…" he murmured, tears still staining his cheeks.
Filled with sadness, Christine dried his tears and planted a tender kiss upon his cheek.
"Hush, Raoul. We all have our faults."
Five Days Later
Erik lifted his eyes to the house ahead. The black horse he'd been riding wandered away, into the gathering mist.
"She's here."
The words comforted him. All he wanted now was to sweep Christine into his arms and take her away to a home of their own.
A faint aria of sound met his ears as he approached the home. It was of course his beloved Christine. Her figure shone through the curtains on the second floor, staring blankly out at the fields of dead crops. Erik flew to the rose bushes, praying she had not seen him. It seemed she had not, for she continued to stare aimlessly outside.
Once out of sight, Erik found another trellis and began to climb. He was soon at Christine's level. Making a quick decision, he inched over to her window and found himself facing her lovely face. However as she gazed in his gray eyes, a tear slid down her cheek. Opening the window slightly, she whispered three words.
"Go Erik, go."
That was all he heard, through the window, before he felt pain slice through his body. His grip loosened and his body fell to the ground. Christine's face, wide with terror, gleamed brightly from above.
"Christine…"
Late
Christine dabbed at the wound upon Erik's body. The bullet lay on a plate, bloody and warm. Only moments before, she'd removed it with a pick. It was thrilling and frightening. She'd touched Erik beautiful body and nursed him. How she longed for him to wake!
"How is he?"
Raoul appeared at the door. Christine's happiness turned to rage. Stupid, idiotic Raoul! He was the cause of all of this!
"I believe he'll live. The bullet was stuck in his muscle."
"Good. I can't have a man dying on my account!" Raoul said.
"How dare you! You shot him! He could have died. You shot him and he fell off the window!" Christine cried, tears streaming from her eyes.
Immediately, Raoul's hand flew up, but Christine caught it and gripped his wrist.
"You won't ever touch me again!" she snapped.
Raoul became human once more. His eyes welled with tears and his face went pale.
"All right," he whispered.
Erik moaned in his sleep. Christine rushed to his side and began bandaging the wound upon his chest. His lips curled slightly, making her smile with joy that he was all right.
"Dream well, Erik," she whispered so Raoul could not hear.
After Raoul had left the room, Christine laid her head upon Erik's chest and closed her eyes. All was silent and peaceful.
Suddenly, Erik sat up, moaning in pain. Christine stepped back, watching the mask fall from his face and reveal his disfigurement. His eyes opened and found Christine's.
"Christine…" he whispered, eyes softening.
"Erik!" she cried. With jubilance, Christine flung her arms around Erik and kissed him. Erik groaned slightly in pain, but he held tightly to her.
"Erik, as soon as you are well, we must flee from Raoul!" she exclaimed, in a soft, exuberant tone.
At this, Erik frowned.
"How? He will surely found out. I am too weak…"
"Oh, hush! Where's the adventurous man I once called Erik? Has his courage really left him?"
Christine continued to smile, and soon, Erik let out a chuckle. It was quickly stifled with a grunt of pain, but his smile stayed.
"All right, but we cannot act at all until the final hour. You will do anything Raoul expects of you and I will rest," he explained.
This delighted Christine very much. There was time to rejoice at the plan, but it was not now. She stayed until Erik had fallen back to sleep. As soon as his breathing was slow and undisturbed, she grabbed a cloak and left the room.
The hallways at Raoul's summer home were icy. Christine saw, for seconds, her breath coming in smoky puffs. At the end of the hall, a small sliver of light glittered upon the ancient carpet. Raoul was still awake.
"Raoul?" Christine whispered, knocking lightly upon the door.
"Enter, if you please."
Raoul's voice sounded like a moan from a ghost. There was no spark of charm nor, thank goodness, of malevolence. As Christine entered his chambers, she found him watching the weak fire. His eyes brimmed with silent tears.
"You are so heavenly… Why did I believe I could pursue you? I, a man with such an abusive nature…" he whispered, desolately.
"Oh, Raoul!" Christine cried, throwing her arms around him.
Both began to sob against each other. Memories pooled from their hearts as the tears flowed.