My Life is Over
Either way you choose you cannot win...
"Say you love him, and my life is over!" cried Raoul desperately, tugging at the lasso in a vain attempt at freedom.
Christine shifted her gaze from Raoul to the Phantom as she assessed the situation. She knew that no matter what she picked, she wouldn't be with Raoul. So she had to decide- stay with Erik, and let Raoul free, forever mourning her, or let the Phantom kill him? She also could not keep Raoul's declaration of his life being over if she chose the Phantom. It was an impossible choice, and the only option was the Opera Ghost that now held her pity, but not her heart. How could she pick between the man she loved, and the man she needed?
In a split second, she was somehow able to reflect on her time with both her childhood sweetheart and her Angel. And she knew what the best decision would be for her, Raoul, and Erik.
"Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you know? God give me courage to show you, you are not alone!" She sang, standing. She could see in Erik's eyes a wary joy forming, edging the pain and hatred to the rims of his amber irises. Christine could tell that he wasn't quite sure what she about to do.
She acted without thinking anymore into it, not wanting to change her mind now. She feverishly pressed her ruby lips to his malformed ones with a crushing force that left him stunned. Out of the corners of her deep eyes, she saw that Raoul's face held the expression of one betrayed, in agony beyond repair. She would explain before he left...he had to know, had to understand. This was for him.
Erik's quivering hands gently pried Christine's small frame from him, pushing her away, breaking the contact that Erik had never before felt. As he sensed Christine staring at him, he lit a new candle and carried it over to where the Viscount was struggling the Punjab.
In one movement, the noose was lit ablaze and burned away to nothingness, leaving the Vicomte on the cold stone floor, gasping for air as his lungs burned in denial. As Erik gasped his hand and pulled the man to his feet, he spoke of leaving the lair and forgetting him. But neither Christine nor Raoul really paid attention- they had won. He was letting go of Christine, and Raoul was free to take her.
Christine dragged him away as the Phantom's screams of hatred and pain from years of cruelty released, echoing around the sculpted halls.
"Wait, Raoul! I forgot something!" She said suddenly, letting go of his hand and slipping back down the stairs silently before her lover could ask what she meant or where she was going.
There was nothing left for Raoul to do but wait for her to return, unsurprised to see tears glinting on her cheeks.
"Let's go." She whispered, sliding her softer hand into Raoul's rough one.
The cool breeze of Paris in the night had never felt as welcoming as it did now to Christine. And she would never have such a special place for any other time of day as she has developed for night time, thanks to Erik-the man who was now probably dead, or dying. Her fault. Guilt crashed over her waves of self-loathing. But the peaceful and wanted silence did not last between Christine and Raoul.
"Christine, I must ask you something." The Vicomte interjected, shattering the blissful quiet into pieces. Resigned, Christine nodded her consent for him to continue his speech.
Raoul looked at his feet, polished black dress shoes shining in the moonlight.
"Do you really love that monster?"
Christine turned her burning gaze to him; pupils alight with anger and shame.
"Once I did. He was my angel. But Raoul-"
"No! Don't say anything, Christine. Just...don't." Raoul paused, his head dropped to the ground, turned away from his childhood friend. Then he looked up, squared his shoulders, and looked once more at the women he loved.
"Thank you for your time, Miss Daae. I have enjoyed knowing you this well. I shall see you at the next performance at the Opera Populaire." He said, his eyes cold and his words detached from the affection for her that they once held.
"No, Raoul, please! I love you! When I loved Erik, it was before I knew what he was!" she pleaded desperately.
Raoul let out a slight humourless laugh.
"You still call that monster by his name?" he asked quietly.
Christine floundered, unsure of what to say. In truth, she had fallen in love with the idea of being watched over by an angel. But not with Erik himself, or even him as an angel. All she'd ever felt for him was pity, and sadness at his unfair curse. But Raoul would never understand that-all he saw was that at one point, his Little Lotte had fallen in love with the Phantom of the Opera.
"I shall see you at rehearsals when I check in on the new production plans in the mornings to come." Though his voice was softer, the hardened edges where still there.
"Raoul, no...Please...I love you. It's always been you. Please!" Tears continued to fall from her eyes freely, dripping off her chin and wetting the pavement beneath her.
But the Vicomte paid no attention, and walked away, his head held high.
In two hours, Christine had managed to lose the only two men who still meant something to her, all because she could not pick.
Why don't you understand? I did it for you! Her mind screamed, thoughts beating upon the inside of her head. Water flowed down her face in torrents. She was truly all alone.
She's lost the man she'd loved, and the man she'd needed.
Christine did not sleep much that night. Her nightmare of Erik's lair and of Raoul's abandonment haunted her thoughts and refused her rest. The day's events pounded on her brain. Her skull felt like it would burst out of her head.
I'm sorry. Erik, I picked you! Couldn't you have left it at that? Christine spent most of the night sobbing into her pillow, ignoring any attempts of comfort from Meg or anyone else who knocked on her door.
Days dragged by, turning into weeks and months. Life got worse for Christine, who turned into a cold, soulless husk of what she had once been. The life seemed to have drained from her. Without Erik, the life had and passion had gone from music and singing. And without Raoul's love, her life held nothing but dark days.
It was a cold, snowy, late January morning when she was found. No one could say that it really came as a shock, or even a surprise. Everyone-even the stagehands- knew that she was not the Christine that they once knew. It was Meg who found her, having gone to look for her when she did not show for practice. Christine was found in her room, hung from a spot on her bed's four posters, only two feet off the ground. She had been dressed in her costume, with a note grasped loosely in her pale, slack hands.
My final performance. For the men I lost. For the men I hurt-this is for you, Erik and Raoul.