Erik,
Where are you now? You are no longer at the opera, according the the Giry's, and I have had no news of you otherwise. I suppose it is no longer my buisness... but I still wish you well and want to know you are safe. I wish only the best for you, Erik... and oh, how I miss you. To hear your voice again would bring me pleasure beyond your comprehension.
Sincreley,
Vicomtess Christine de Chagney
...
Erik,
I have been thinking about you often lately, and I cannot explain why. I have not sung in months now; life after my honeymoon has prevented me from doing so. I begin to wonder if I shall ever make it back to the stage. But how could I make my career take flight again without you to guide me? There are times I would give anything to go back to the day it was just you, me, and our music.
Sincerely,
Christine de Chagney
...
Dear Erik,
I am so lonely, Erik. I love my husband (I do, I do), but he is so distant lately, traveling and dealing with politics. How I yearn for your company. You always knew how to take care of me and how to say the right thing when I felt this way. My angel, where have you gone? I need you now, and you are no where to be found... Not that I any longer deserve you. I made my choice... It was a good decision at the time... The right decision...
Oh, how sometimes I wonder if I really did choose correctly.
Sincerely,
Christine
...
Erik,
I am pregnant. I should be joyous, but I am sorrowful. You are the first person to know. I am sure Raoul will be thrilled... But how can he be a good father to my child when I, his wife, barely see him? I cannot help but wonder what it would be like if it was your child I had growing inside of me instead...
Yours,
Christine
...
Dearest Erik,
I am going mad, I am quite convinced of this now. I think of you constantly. You consume my thoughts. It has been a year since I have last sung and I found my voice today to be in desperate need of your guidance. I cannot sing well any longer, and I no longer have you there for me. How different my life is from what I thought it would be... I desire for things I could have had but gave up for some reason I do not any longer understand.
I made the wrong decision, Erik. I have decided that I love you. But I am the Vicomtess and I am having Raoul's child. I cannot go back. I cannot...
Christine
...
Dear Erik,
I lost my baby. My beautiful, beautiful baby... stillborn. A girl. I would have named her Louise.
Raoul couldn't even make it back to Paris in time for his child's birth.
I suffered alone.
Christine
...
Dearest Erik,
I love you. I love you. I love you! I love you. I love you! I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you. I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you!
Love,
Christine
...
Dearest Erik,
You are the only one keeping me going, and I haven't seen you in such a long time. You weren't even there, but you were the single reason I made it through the tough times following my child's death. My love for you was the only thing keeping me sane.
I am madly in love with you, I have finally realized that now, but you have probably forgotten about me. I don't mind... I understand. But I still love you. You are the only reason I am still alive.
If I become pregnant again and it is a boy, I shall name him Erik. If a girl, Angelique. Anything to honor you, anything so I can always remember you.
You are my heart, my joy, my soul, my love. How could I have ever denied you?
Love,
Christine
...
My Erik,
My husband has discovered my letters to you. They were for you, and only you, but he read them anyways. I um unsure if I can forgive him.
We have help now, help for our marriage. He loves me, Raoul does, I know he does. He was not angry when he found my letters, he only wanted to make things better. He may not be there for me when I most need him, when I must be the lonesome Vicomtess... But I will try. But not for Raoul... for you. I know all that you ever wanted was for me to be happy.
I will be happy. For you.
I love you.
Christine
...
My love, my Erik,
I can no longer write to you. It is forbidden to me now. They say I must move on... but can't they see I cannot? I love you!
This shall be my last letter... at least for a long while.
I shall be a good wife, a good Vicomtess, and a good mother when the time arises. But I shall always love you. I shall think of you always. And when I sing, it will always be for you.
I love you.
Yours forever and always,
Christine
...
My Erik,
I am old. Life has been long. My children have children and my friends are dying around me. I have had a good life, I suppose. My husband loves me still, even as I lie here on my deathbed. My family loves me, and I have made a beautiful family.
I have never stopped loving you.
You may no longer draw breath, but you live through memory in me. I sung, Erik. I have not for a very long time, but today I did. I cried, Erik, but they were happy tears. Singing reminds me of you, and how I love to remember you.
I am going to die, Erik, very soon. But always know that I loved you until I drew my last breath.
Eric, my youngest, is so much like you, Erik. He's beautiful. He's talented. He makes his mother proud. I look at him everyday and see you.
His eyes (your eyes, yours) shall be the last thing I see before life finally leaves me.
Oh, Erik, how I love you, my angel of music. Perhaps in heaven we can meet again. Someday.
All my love,
Christine
A tear fell and hit the curve of the C in Christine. These letters were never sent, but they came to the intended eventually. They made him cry, they made him bleed, they made him remember, but he read them anyway.
Vicomtess Christine de Chagney was dead. But her Phantom lived, and he read her letters, the letters that had been given to him, and he still loved her.
The Phantom kept the letters. But he left a single red rose on her tombstone and left to begin his own letter.
My beloved, my dear Christine...
I have no excuses. I wrote this today after a muse bullied me into writing it and thought I'd share.
Oh, and Raoul isn't a total fop. I like to think that it was he who gave Erik these letters after Christine's death... But who knows? It's really up to you to decide.
Please leave a review on your way out! Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. You would know if I did. Trust me.