Hi from Emilie Rose. This is chapter 1 of an Alternate Ending to Monsieur Leroux's original masterpiece. The characters aren't mine. Enjoy!
The Angel's Return
My miserable existence was drawing to a close. By then, the daroga must have written to the newspaper about my death. If she was to keep her promise Oh, God, I prayed she would Christine would be on her way back to bury me.
I was so weak! I'd fallen out of bed several hours ago and hadn't the strength to get back up. The floor was terribly cold, to the point where I had begun to shiver violently.
Oh, when would the nightmare be over? I had endured over half a century of undeserved torture. Couldn't it just end without me having to suffer even more?
I felt completely helpless. Like an infant, I had soiled myself and had no means to crawl away from it.
Unable to control my emotions, I felt hot tears slide down my horrendously deformed face. Without even knowing it, I was whimpering in pain and misery.
To be utterly alone is the worst feeling in the world. It is a slow, agonizing death that is more painful than any physical wound. My loneliness was destroying me; I could feel myself slipping into a darkness from which there is no waking.
And then I heard the voice. It was soft and beautiful and vaguely familiar. I strained to clear my foggy brain and to understand the voice's words. "He said he would be in the LouisPhilippe room. Come, Raoul, let's get this over with." A door creaked open. "Oh, Erik, my poor, poor Erik!"
Footsteps moved toward me. I tried to call out, but was too weak to utter a sound. A warm hand was placed on my shoulder, and then came a gasp of surprise.
"He's alive!" Christine cried. "Oh, the poor thing! Look at the state he's in! Raoul, come here. Let's get him into the bed."
They lifted me carefully and moved me off of the floor. Once she had gotten me settled, Christine knelt by my side, stroking my forehead the way one might pet an ailing dog.
This, of course, was exactly what I was. Christine's beloved angel had become no more than a wounded animal, dying at her feet.
She spoke to me in a low, soothing tone. "Erik, wake up. Please, dear, open your eyes. I'm here now. Erik, it's Christine."
I had to let her know that I could hear her. With every bit of strength left to me, I forced open my hideous yellow eyes. Two tear-filled blue orbs stared down at me. "Hello, my angel," murmured Christine.
Taking a deep, gasping breath, I managed to choke out two words. "Love… you!"
"Oh, hush, dear." She let out a nervous little sigh. "Your teeth are chattering." My darling Christine laid an anxious hand across my clammy forehead. "You feel very feverish."
She's so beautiful! I thought. And so kind! Monsieur de Chagny is a lucky man, indeed.
"Erik, I'm going to fetch some things to make you more comfortable, alright? I'll be back in a moment." She gave my hand a brief squeeze and left.
Though Christine was gone, I could hear footsteps tapping up and down the room. Who else was here to see me in this wretched condition?
Did you like it so far? Someone has to tell me what they think before I write more.