Prologue

It was nighttime, for that I was sure. I shuffled down a corridor, as to not be seen. I knew exactly where I was. I had been there so many times before. The Opera Populaire had usually been a place of tempo, with dancers and singers bustling around. But on this night everything seemed so quiet, so eerie, that I couldn't recognize this place as the Opera house I knew and loved.

What sparked my curiosity on this night was a man, clad in black robes. There was something familiar about him that I couldn't put my finger on. He was walking into a dark alley with a woman. From what I could see, this woman was beautiful. Her long, curly brown hair and the most beautiful chocolate eyes that I had ever seen were enough to make any man fall to their knees. The dress she wore hugged her bodice perfectly, most likely assisted with the help of a corset. I felt like a lion after its prey, stalking these people with great stealth.

As this man led this woman down the labyrinth-type halls of the opera house, I felt very tense feeling of déjà vu, simply because these were the very same halls that I had met my Angel of Music in.

After hurrying down innumerable corridors, they finally reached a room. The man entered, with the woman and I close behind. The room was empty, except for a mirror, in the far most corner of the room. I waited about thirty seconds until the man and the woman crept through the door before I realized that the mirror was a trapdoor.

One and only thing came to mind with the word trapdoor was Erik. He had always been the master of trickery and architect. From what I had been told, he had designed many buildings and infamous structures during his younger days in Persia. I knew for a fact, that to occupy his mind, he made torture devices to amuse himself. These "devices" often killed the lives of innocent people, on his behalf of course.

With my mind, now clouded with thoughts of Erik, I was forced to ponder that distant thought. There were so many times that I wondered what my life would have been like if Erik were like everyone else. As a matter of fact, I am certain that if Erik wasn't cursed with such a face, and grew up being loved by his parents, he would have been such a gentleman!! He could have taken me out for walks on Sunday afternoons and tended to my every need, just as he said he would. It is horrible that he had to go through the torture of having no love. He would have made a wonderful husband to some lucky woman out in the world, but I guess things don't always turn out the way you want in life. He just learned that the hard way, that's all.

I heaved a great sigh, realizing that I would never get to see my Angel of Music ever again. I would never get to see his giddy, crooked smile when I came in to his view. I would never get to hear his cries of delight as I performed his operas right before his eyes. Never again. I would never get to see that man who made me feel so many different emotions all at once. Anger, pride, horror, happiness, serenity, pity, all at the same time! Allowing a stray tear to run down my face, I had to veer my focus on getting through this trapdoor, not Erik!

Subsequent to inspecting the door for about a quarter of an hour, I finally figured out how to open it. There was a bolt on the bottom two corners of the door which needed to be turned simultaneously to open. If only I had paid attention before, this could have been much easier. But, my ever veering mind had drifted away from what was going on in this world, and more to my conscious mind.

I tiptoed down multiple corridors, followed by hundreds of steps. I hid behind a door to listen to the conversation unfolding before me. My heart began to pound when I heard the sound of two voices. Two very familiar voices.

"Erik no…please! Don't make me do this. I…I can't do this." The woman's voice sounded so melancholic and scared. It made extremely worried. I peeked out from behind a corner to see who was hiding behind the cloaks.

Much to my astonishment, the man and woman were exact replicas of Erik and me! In all honesty, I was petrified. During the few years in which I partook in an academic education, never had I learned such a phenomenon to defy the laws of physics as this occurrence had. But, not having any control over the situation, I decided to go along with it.

"Don't make you do what, Christine? Give up your soul to the one thing that has only supported and helped you through your life? Should I not make you not devote your heart to my music, the one thing that has guided you through life? Or should I simply let you return to the surface world, where you will most likely run off with the Vicomte, leaving me here, never to return to gaze upon my haunted face? After all I've done for you!!"

Although I was still quite unsure of what was going on, I knew one thing. Erik was hurt. I had heard it in his voice so many times before. It brought back memories of the last time I rendezvoused with him. Things didn't work out so well. My heart stopped for a moment, waiting to hear what her retort would be to his bitter comment.

"Erik…Angel….My Angel of Music……I…" Tears began to well up-in mine, and my duplicate's eyes.

"Don't call me that name!" he spat "You don't have the right to call me that name anymore. I am no angel of yours!"

My carbon copy's pleas were no match for Erik. I knew him, and he did not put up with anyone's pitiful pleas, especially when I was lying. It was odd actually, how I could never lie to his face without him knowing. It was as if he had a supernatural power to see right through me. For him, feelings and thoughts were naked and exposed. There was nothing that I or anyone else could hide from him. No one kept secrets from Erik.

Sensing that something either terribly wrong or tremendously good was about to happen, I focused my attention back to this argument.

For about twenty minutes I witnessed myself cry before Erik, who was just standing there, as gallant and livid as before. Out of nowhere he spoke. His voice was quiet, just below a whisper, and obviously filled with sadness and hurt.

"Christine….my dear sweet Angel, you don't know. I wish you knew. I wish I could tell you everything, or at least I had wished. I have brought you here today to tell you something. It is something I have wanted to tell you since the day that I had heard your innocent, pure voice echo the halls of the opera house. It is something that I wanted to tell you every time you looked past my horrid face, and made my legs tremble. It is something I had wanted to tell you since the moment you accepted me for the person who I really am, not what I looked like. I don't care that you love someone else, or that you may not care for me in return. I just wanted to tell you one thing before I die. Yes, Christine, I am dying. Dying of love. Christine, I love you."

Much to my delight, she kissed him. No words were spoken, no body language shown, nothing. She grabbed his ashen face and kissed him. It lasted for only a second, but it seemed to go on forever. It was just a kiss, on Erik's malformed lips, full of bottled up emotion and desire. I know it sounds rather irrational and maybe even insane, but I felt the slightest desire to have my very own lips against his. Just for that moment, a moment that I would not have had other time. Now, I wanted to be with him.

My heart was pounding. My hands had a steady tremor. I closed my eyes for a moment to savor in the information my head had been trying to tell me. When I opened my eyes, I was in my bedroom. I looked around. No trace of Erik, or another copy of myself, or a coffin, or a lair. The only thing in sight was my fiancée, Raoul, lying next to me, still in deep slumber.

It was only a dream.