There is darkness in my heart. It will not lighten. It will not leave. It has existed there since before I can remember. It is where I go to dwell and it welcomes me. It is the only thing in this cold, harsh world that welcomes me. And so, in turn, I accepted it, just as it had accepted me.
There was never any question of light for me. Not Madame Giry or her daughter could help me. They tried, of course. They tried to get me to compose the beautiful music that once lifted from my organ. But that had all been for Christine. And she had left me so there was no use for the music that I had once created, the music that had been created with a mix of light.
I had composed many things but there was nothing that I would ever show the world. It was dark, haunting music. There was no beauty. It was hollow, unfeeling music. The darkness had consumed me, made me hollow. I could not write the arias that had once spewed from my fingertips. There was nothing left.
I was still hopelessly in love with her. Or the idea of her as Madame Giry had once tried to convince me. But I knew Christine. I knew her heart. I knew her thoughts, her desires, and her passions. I knew it all. And yet she had left me.
There was still that Raoul, still the burden that had poisoned the romance that had existed between Christine and I. I wanted that back. I wanted Christine to sing for me again, always.
I sat at my organ and closed my eyes. I could feel the porcelain against my cheek and breathed deeply. Slowly my mind was filled with the darkness but with rays of light. I began to see Christine as I had last seen her, as she had given her wedding ring back to me, with soft smiles and soft eyes.
My fingers began to play.