CHRISTINE

A blur. All a blur. Don Juan Triumphant, Piangi, the song, the fire, the wedding dress and the ultimatum. My mind was still foggy as I felt the boat floating along the water; suddenly I realized someone was talking.

"… Little Lotte" Raoul was saying to me. "You are safe now; the mob will take care of that monster. I promise you Christine, you will never see him again."

Ignoring the single warm tear drop that travelled down my cheek, I lifted my head and stared into my fiancé's eyes. Blue, they were blue; the same color as sapphire. Something in me frowned, sapphire does not compare to gold.

My lips curled up slightly as I watched him frantically trying to row us across the lake. Again I felt a small jab at my heart, frantic does not compare to grace.

He smiled at me in return, a smile that complimented his flawless features. Unconsciously my hands formed into fists, flawless does not compare to familiarity.

MEG

I stared at my mother in shock as she told me his story, their history, and how he ended up at the Opera House. Tears wetted her face silently the entire time. In all my seventeen years of life I have never seen my mother cry. It wasn't until when she finished talking that I realized I was crying as well. I'm hurt that she never told me this before, but knowing my mother, somehow I was not surprised.

"He's a genius my dearest Meg," my mother finished and wiped her tears away with a handkerchief. "The most brilliant person I have ever met, and do doubt the most brilliant in history as well."

I squeezed my eyes shut, as if praying for everything that happened to be a big nightmare. But I'm no longer a naïve little girl, my mind no longer resides in a world of innocence and simplicity…if only…

"But what happened tonight Meg," she sniffed and continued, her voice soft and low, almost a whisper. "It bothers me…was it the right decision to send the Vitcome down there?"

I hesitated to answer. Truth is I still don't know what to make of the situation.

ERIK

Fools. Yes, I will definitely hide under a lamp shade.

I watched the ambush of my abode behind the two-way mirror; not even flinching when two of the men smashed a chair onto my beloved organ and remained firmly still when another kicked against the pipes.

Nothing they did bothered me, nothing could bother me anymore.

Clenching my fists tightly so that I felt the acute piercing of nails on flesh, I forced everything sense of emotion down.

Forget everything. Don't feel. Forget the Opera House. Forget the Phantom. Forget…her.