This is my first fanfiction ever, so if it is a little rough around the edges I hope time will smooth things out. If you would be nice enough to give me some advice in a review, I would be very appriciative. Please don't flame though, I'm sensitive lol. I didn't make up Phantom of the Opera, Charles Hart and Andrew Lloyd Webber did. I wrote this story and created the character of Mattheu (a french spelling of Matthew) so please don't steal it.

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"Ouch!" Christine de Chagny cried as she pummelled into the wall. Breathing hard, she glared up at her husband Raoul. "Why did u do that?" asked Christine.

"You try my patience with your stupidity, Christine!" the angry Vicomte roared.

Christine just sat in stunned silence knowing quite well he was drunk. He often was these days now that he had fallen into a bad reputation amongst the aristocracy. He would venture into the bars in the evening and wouldn't come home until late at night, and he often woke up the household with his entoxicated ramblings. She smelled the whiskey and liqour all around him now. "Okay, I'll be quiet," she said, for she was trying to keep Raoul calm, and got up from the ground. "Good or else I'll hit you again!" Raoul shouted after her.

Christine walked up the stairs to her son Matthue's room. Matthue was four years old and had big brown eyes like globes just like his mother. Christine peeked through the door and saw from the ray of light that fell across the room that her son's eyes were wide open. Christine entered and kneeled beside the bed. "Darling Matthew, are you alright?" she asked.

"I heard you and Daddy fighting."

"Oh, don't worry about it Matthue. Everything is fine, go back to sleep."

"Okay, Mommy. I love you."

"I love you too."

Christine closed the door behind her and whispered "good night." She wanted to relax, so he walked back downstairs to the library. She was there, curled up like a cat on an armchair, reading a book when Raoul stormed in. Christine sighed and shut the book "What is it Raoul?"

"I know you still love him!" he yelled.

"Who are you talking about?" Christine asked confusedly.

"That madman from the Populaire! The phantom!" His words came in a slurred torent.

"Don't be ridiculous, I haven't seen him in five years."

"I hope he's dead by now."

"Raoul!" Christine cried sharply. "Don't say such things."

"Aha! So you do love him!"

Christine's face turned red and she looked down, knowing her feelings had been discovered. She was vaguely aware of Raoul standing before her until he grabs her shoulders and shook her. "Christine I want you and that stupid child of your's out of my house by morning!"

Christine wrenched herself out of his vice-like grip and sprung back. "Fine, I will!" she shouted. "You're a mean ne'er-do-well anyway and I am sorry I married you!" Christine knew this was true; all five years they had been married Raoul was an alcoholic and hit her and her heart has been with Jacque, The phantom of the opera. She didn't love him like she thought she did.

Christine ran upstairs to her room and threw her clothes (her dresses, pajamas, and underwear) into a bag and then went into Mattheu's room and threw his close into a bag. "Come on Mattheu we are leaving," she said quietly. Mattheu followed her down the stairs. Raoul was crying and tried to stop them but Chrisine walked past him and she could hear Raoul's anguished howls from down the street. "Come on, Mattheu my darling, we must go to the Opera Populaire," she told her trembling son.