Pitiful Creature

This take place right after "Down Once More" and Christine's feelings and thoughts. Now on with the story.

"Pitiful creature of darkness what kind of life have you known"

Those words echoed in her head. The feeling of his lips was still on hers and the sound and sight of his body shaking uncontrollably with his heart-wrenching sobs was still pounding in her head.

Christine felt horrible, how could she have done that. It had been only two days after Raoul had taken her back to his mansion and her mind was still back in the catacombs of the opera house. She spent her time now in her room; she hadn't eaten nor slept.

He had been her angel, her tutor, and even showed her love, when not even once in his life, did he ever receive it.

"The tears I might have shed for your dark fate grow cold and turn to tears of hate."

Hate. She said that she hated him. The only kind of emotion he ever knew or received. She herself was no better then the gypsies that had caged, humiliated and tortured him, or the one person who should have cared, no loved him unconditionally, his mother. The thought brought tears to her eyes, even his own mother loathed him and for what?

For his face. It sent a shiver down her spine at the thought of his face. The right side of his face was marred and was covered in welts and bumps. The hairline above his ear was gone; his nose was almost pressed into his face at the weight of his deformity. Yet unsurprisingly, his eye was not affected. It was those eyes that had captivated her soul and brought out the unlimited beauty of her voice; those ungodly eyes that held more secrets and sadness that anyone in the world, had had formed who she was.

"Pitiful creature…"

The words kept echoing her mind they wouldn't leave her alone. "Please stop…stop" she whimpered pathetically. 'I must be going insane.' She thought, 'I'm the real pitiful creature' Not only had she publicly humiliated him in front of everyone by removing his mask, and ruining his opera, she had also denied him the only thing he had ever asked of her.

"Lead me, save me from my solitude…"

He just wanted her love, the same kind of love that he had displayed for her over the years. And yet she selfishly deprived him of what he deserved. It made her sick as she replayed the events that had occurred over the year. Sick to see how childish she really was and how blind she was to not realize all of the tenderness and patience he had shown her despite all that she had said and done.

Feeling the bile rise to her throat she rushed to the bathroom and kneeled down to the toilet to empty the contents of her stomach. Raising her head she felt the tears start to form in her eyes, she couldn't stop thinking about him, her angel, her phantom, and her opera ghost…her Erik. Yes she knew his name. She had come across his journal and read it. She had violated his personal property, the one thing that he felt safe enough to confide his feelings in.

He spoke about his work, his feelings, and the managers that had come and left over the years, Madame Giry, Meg or little Giry (he had given her the nickname as soon as she was born and thought of her dearly as a younger sister). But most of all he spoke of her. In the beginning it was the desire to show him to her instead of pretending to be an angel, soon it was the lessons he was giving to her and how quickly and amazingly her voice was progressing, then it became his feelings to her. He was confused most of the time, and didn't know what to do, so he avoided her, then he was shy, and then he denied them, unsure of what should happen if he revealed himself.

Then he spoke of his jealously of Raoul, the boy, the slave of fashion. Lastly he spoke of Don Juan, his masterpiece. He was so proud of himself when he had finished it. Christine remembered the words of pride he praised himself with. He always finished his entry with the signing of his name. Erik.

Breaking out her thought she realized that she had started walking out of the mansion. It was a beautiful house; marble made up most of it. It was right over the ocean, a beautiful sight to look at, at anytime of the day or night. Wearing nothing but a silk white nightgown, she walked over the cliff that looked over the sea and looked down. Below her was nothing but water and rocks, if she should fall she was be killed just by the rocks on her way down. "Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation…"

Oh how she secretly missed it. The feel of his hands, the soft whispers of his voice when he sang and that voice, oh god that voice. It could make the demons in hell weep and pray for forgiveness. It had always been her comfort.

"In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came. That voice which calls to me and speaks my name."

The tears fell freely now; cascading over her porcelain colored skin in small streams. 'Erik I need you! Please help me, save me! I need you!' Her mind screamed. She fell to he knees with a cry on the jagged rock on the edge of the cliffs, cutting her knees and watched has the small trickles of blood slowly slid down on to the ground. Surprisingly she didn't feel pain, no she actually felt good, crawling closer to the edge she looked over once more and suddenly felt the urge to find out what should happen if she leapt off. Would it hurt, would she be relived of the pain she felt inside of her that was quickly eating her away?

"All I want is freedom, a world with no more night. And you always beside me, to hold me and to hide me…"

Raoul had been looking for Christine inside of the house; he hadn't seen her since this morning. He walked past a window and stopped in his tracks, there outside of the house near the edge of the cliff was his Christine. He watched as she slowly rose from her kneeling position and take small steps to the edge.

"Oh god, Christine!"

He ran down the stairs praying to god that he would make it in time to stop her. He knew that she was depressed over what had happened, but he was never sure of the extent of her depression. He had to stop her, he just had too; she was the only thing in his life that meant anything to him. 'But she had also been the world to someone else' , he heard in the back of his mind. Someone who had felt nothing but pain his entire life, someone who had threatened to kill him and had also brought his Christine the greatest happiness and the worst kind of pain.

Christine moved forward, her feet were at the edge, one step would end it all. All of the pain, sadness, guilt, betrayal, mixed feelings and emotions, it would all be gone.

"Christine! Angel! Please Stop! Don't Do It! Christine!"

She heard a voice, it was so close but it was so far. The urge was getting too intense; she was leaning over, almost falling…. Then she fell.

"CHRISTINE!"

Raoul ran to the edge and looked down, he couldn't see her, but the splash of the water below him was all he needed to know. No one could have survived the fall, falling to his knees he felt the tears fall freely.

"Damn You Phantom! You Take Everything That Ever Meant Anything To Me! My Brother, My Money, My Life, and Now the Only Person Who Could Ever Bring Me Happiness! Damn you, damn you to hell…"

His voice became lower and lower, as the sound of his sobs became more and more erratic. From inside of the mansion the maids and butlers had rushed outside at the sound of their master's cries.

Scott, the head butler walked slowly up to his master still unaware of the event that had just taken place. "M'sieur Raoul, what had just happened?"

"She's gone, she's gone, and I couldn't save her." The low whisper left his voice as his head lowered the salty tears still falling from his face and onto his shirt. Picking himself up he turned to his butler with his head still bowed he spoke "Send for the police and start making funeral arrangements, do I make myself clear?" His voice held no trace of emotion and left no room for argument. Scott could only nod his head and walk briskly into the house ignoring the questioning looks of his fellow workers.

Back outside Raoul, was staring blankly in front of him. Pulling out the pistol from his back pocket he looked at it intently. He knew that he wasn't thinking clearly, but he knew that without Christine his life left no purpose. He never did carry a gun around, but ever since returning from the Opera Populaire he felt the need to carry it around. He knew this wasn't right, but…what could he do? 'It's not fair, it's not fair. Why me? Why her? Why does it have to come down to this?', he thought.

Scott had just finished talking to the police and was now dialing the funeral house. A voice picked up.

"Hello"

"Hello this is Victome de Changy's residence speaking I would like to arrange a funeral for the…" His voice was cut off when he heard the sound of a shot gun go off outside of the house. He sighed, and bowed his head in respect.

"Hello, hello is anyone there?"

"Yes I would like to arrange a funeral for the Victome de Changy and his fiancée Christine Daae."

End

Child of the wilderness

Born into emptiness

Learn to be lonely

Learn to find your way in darkness

Who will be there for you…?

Comfort and care for you

Learn to be lonely

Learn to be your one companion

Never dreamed out in the world

There are arms to hold you?

You've always known

Your heart was on its own…

So laugh in your loneliness

Child of the wilderness

Learn to be lonely

Learn how to love life that is lived alone

Learn to be lonely

Life can be lived

Life can be love…

Alone