MISSING

"Maybe someday you'll have woke up,

And, barely conscious, you'll say to no one:

"Isn't something missing?"

You won't cry for my absence, I know -

You forgot me long ago.

Am I that unimportant...?

Am I so insignificant...?

Isn't something missing?

Isn't someone missing me?

Even though I'd be sacrificed,

You won't try for me, not now.

Though I'd die to know you love me,

I'm all alone.

Isn't someone missing me?"

CHAPTER 1

While she was running about the streets in the outskirts of Paris, Christine felt the vicious January wind brushing away the tears that were struggling to roll down her cheeks, turning them into little crystal ice cubes. Sorrow darkened even more the blackness of her eyes.

Where to go? God, after everything that had happened she was feeling once again like the little girl she had never stopped being. That lonely, frightened girl had always been there, inside her, looking for a safety blanket, the protection of a father that was suddenly gone forever.

But now, oh now, the only pillar she had, the only person that had provided her with that safety and arms that could shelter her from her nightmares…they were now gone too. Why, for Heaven's sake, why had it had to happen again…so soon? They had only been married for 10 months…only 10 months…

She was not certain of why she was doing what she was doing or why she had started running aimslessly in the middle of the funeral. She did not know, but it was what her soul had been crying for at that moment. Forgetting everything, embracing loneliness and sheltering from the world and the pain somewhere.

No, she could not return. 'Too risky? Or too many memories?' she questioned herself. Too many memories, yes…and now she had not only lost the person that had given her unconditional love, security and protection through all that time, but she had lost the only person that had represented her inspiration, her passion, her music… her great mentor.

Carriages were rolling along the deserted rues. Dark clouds announced rain. She did not mind what the attendants would think of a runaway widow like her, nor where she was going. Suddenly she had realized that the woman with the broken heart that lived within her had to overcome the childish part of herself, the image of the wandering and defenceless child she had always put on magnificently.

Trembling with cold, despite the fact that she was wearing some of her warmest clothes, she found what seemed a good place to shelter from the rain, at least for the night. She got inside quickly, without second thoughts, and tried to make herself as comfortable as possible in the incredibly small and dark room she had broken into. She sat down and curled up into a ball. Even though she couldn't bring herself to admit it, she had never felt the kind of terror that was paralysing her right then.

She took off the coat she was wearing and covered her whole body with it, trying to keep herself warm. She relaxed under the soft material and the relative heat it transmitted. She let herself close her eyes at last, little by little. Her perfect black curls were now untidy, tangled around her face, and her skin paler than ever.

Only three words merged from her mouth before she fell into the sweet release of unconsciousness.

'Please, forgive me…'.

During the night, different dreams crossed her mind. Most of them related to what had transpired the prior hours.

She remembered being in the streets in the middle of Paris, strolling hand in hand with the man who was her husband… Shots, people running away… They tried hiding wherever they could, but it was all in vain. They were cornered…attacked…She was the only survivor and the minor injuries she had suffered allowed her to escape.

The next thing she remembered was that one of her husband's closest servants and friends had informed her of the events that had taken place while she had been unconscious. There had been no time to heal him…he had bled to death…his life slowly leaving his body with every painful breath and no one had been able to do anything to save him.

Afterwards, haunting flashes of her past plagued her dreams… She saw the happy moments she had lived in the Opera House…she saw…Erik. She remembered the expression that danced in his face when she came back, only to give him back the ring. Hope. Yes, he had watched her anxiously, expecting to hear from her lips that she would stay with him. Then, she saw how that hope in his eyes turned into pain when she placed the ring in the palm of his hand. She had hurt him…She had caused him so much suffering … But was there any choice? What could she do now to make up for her mistakes? Erik was probably dead by now…somewhere. She would never be able to tell him how deeply sorry she was. The kiss…its passion…its tenderness…the happiness shining through his distorted features and the profound, heartbreaking sadness when he looked at her. Why was her subsconscious torturing her with fragments of her turbulent past? No…she did not want…to remember him. And yet, how could one ever want to erase the memory of the person who represented EVERYTHING in the world to her? Once more, the frightened child inside her was trying to flee from responsibility and guilt, even in her subsconcious…

A woman with a worn-out expression on her face and white streaks in her hair was watching her worriedly. ' Do you think she will get better? Poor girl... she must have been freezing out there last night …'

Those were the first words she heard when she woke up. Her eyes were lazily opening only to be forced to close again, as the harsh light of day that was streaming in through the curtains.

Another woman, younger but also tired-looking, looked at her carefully. 'She is waking up…' she whispered.

Christine blinked a few times and finally opened her eyes completely. She gasped, surprise and terror flooding her still foggy mind, as she looked straight at the two strangers in front of her. 'Who…who are you?', when her eyes got used to the light, she recoiled and struggled to cover herself with the thick, protective blankets. Suddenly, it dawned on her. 'Oh, God…I'm so sorry…I needed a place to stay for the night and I was exhausted and …'

'Hush, child. This horrible Revolution has only brought misfortune to our people…' she slowly sat by Christine. 'My name is Marie. Do not worry yourself with anything, you have come to the perfect place. Oh, where are my manners? You shall probably need a good warm bath and something to eat. Please, Emma, could you tell the others and prepare the toilette for the young lady?'

Christine smiled shyly, not very sure of what had just happened to her but it seemed that, for the time being, those two amiable ladies would provide accommodation for her…

However, it was her desperation and naïveté which did not let her mistrust that wonderful struck of luck…