Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of The Phantom of the Opera. The original characters of this story were created by me.
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Prologue
Thursday, November 25th, 1880
This is the end. She left me. I know that I let her go myself, but it doesn't make me feel better. It is rather ironic, isn't it? I have wanted to be like everyone else my whole life, to have a wife who would try (at least try) to love me, and, at the end, when I was finally approaching my goal, I refused to take what she was offering me. And now she is in that boy's arms. This thought alone is enough to make my blood boil!
I'm dying. I know that I am. There is nothing left for me in this world. I think that daroga did not believe me when I said I was dying of love. He's too practical for this and, besides, I have told him too many lies and he knows that. That's the problem of telling lies – no one believes you anymore, even if what you are saying turns out to be true.
But this is how it is, I'm dying of love and there is nothing I can do about it (and nothing I really want to do). I feel that my end is very near and I will send Christine's relics to daroga in a few days.
I wonder if I should prepare myself somehow before going for my last journey. Actually, there's nothing to prepare, apart from taking my finally finished opera with me. I have told Christine I wanted to be buried with it, so I'm sure she will know what to do with my manuscript.
And what if she breaks her promise and doesn't come to bury me? No! I will not even think about it! She's the most wonderful, generous woman who has ever walked the Earth and she will come. I am sure of it. She would never lie to me; she's completely incapable of lying. I will die in a couple of days (of love, as I have already said) and she will come to bury me with the wedding ring I gave her. But if she still doesn't come? Well, if this happens, it will mean he did not allow her to keep her promise. He's the count now; he may do whatever he wishes. And, if she has already become his wife, she will have to obey him. I would never ask her to obey me. I would be her faithful dog, ready to die for her at any moment. She would do whatever she wanted with me if she had only become my wife.
Enough! It will never happen and I must stop thinking about it! I let her go. I could have made her stay, but I let her go. It is because I love her. I really love her. And I want her to be happy. Her happiness is more important for me than my own.
Isn't it wonderful? I have finally learnt, at the end of my life, how to love someone. I will carry this love to my grave. I will keep repeating her name till my last breath. Christine, Christine, Christine…
And if she doesn't come? Stop! I will go mad. I mean madder than I already am.
But… How much I want her to come!
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