Masked in Pain
Chapter 1: Memories and Tears
Christine walked out of the cold, stone building and stopped when she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. She was terribly skinny and her skin was pale and there were huge dark shadows under her eyes. Her overly done dress hung awkwardly on her thin frame- she didn't even need to wear a corset anymore. She sighed and continued out to the carriage. "Where to madam de changy?" the stagehand inquired "the de changy mansion please." She said in a quiet voice. She had visited the hospital on the strong encouragement of Raoul for exhaustion. She was leaving a day earlier than expected and was happy to be going home- where she wouldn't be harassed constantly by the nurses in those white dresses looking at her with pity. She glanced out of the window and saw the Opera Populaire standing there in its entire splendor. She brought her hand up to window and said quietly "oh Erik. I miss you." Her lips trembled as she thought again of the night she had left him for Raoul and then later of the reports of his death. What she didn't know was that the phantom of the opera was very much alive in the depths of the opera, waiting. She felt the carriage grind to a stop and looked up, with her large sad eyes, at the de changy manor. She stepped lightly out of the carriage and walked unsteadily up the steps. She greeted the butler at the door and began slowly to wind her way up to the room that she and Raoul shared. Her hand made contact with the cold ivory handle and she gently turned it calling softly "Raoul, my dear, I am home early." She stopped suddenly and stared at the awful sight before her.
Erik paced around his lair beneath the Opera Populaire. He had traveled far and wide, back to old homes and new places in the three years since Christine had left him. Just being back in Paris reminded him of her so much that it was almost unbearable. He sat down at his organ and began to pound out dark, oppressive notes while the tears slipped down his face. He poured his heart into the music that he was creating. It was so beautiful and so painful. Full of his anger at the deceit and hatred directed at him, love of Christine and what had surrounded them and a deep heartrending pain at what had happened to them. Suddenly his fingers stilled as his entire body was consumed and racked by sobs of despair and utter anguish. But he began to grow angry and started to speak "Christine! Christine! Why did you do this to me? Can you not see what you have reduced me to? WHY?" he shouted at the cold stone walls. He sank to his knees and lifted up his hands to the wax figure that resembled his love "Christine" his voice was lower "how is that boy of yours doing today? Is he treating you well enough? Gotten you everything you batted your eyes at I assume!" he spat angrily at her form "Christine- I thought you cared for me! I thought you would accept me and instead you turned away from your angel- repulsed by this hideous face that you swore would not bother you." He said in a softer voice. He took one more look at her form and rose- "I will NOT be drawn in by you anymore. This is over. Everything is over. I will move on. I will not love you. Your angel has rejected you, Christine. Goodbye." He placed the wax figure in the lake and watched it as it slowly sank into the murky depths.
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