Christine was at my side as I drew my last breath; as she promised she would be. After that I felt nothing, neither serenity nor restlessness. Simply bleak emptiness. I suppose I could have labeled it calm, considering that my pain was gone, but then again I could've at the same time labeled it agitation, seeing as I was uncomfortably void of emotion. I saw nothing; heard nothing, and I was like this for a considerable amount of time, until eventually I perceived it as a sort of natural, maternal tranquil. I began to feel at ease, like a fetus in a womb. I no longer had a need to worry. I lacked the mortal conscious; the fear of dying, the pestering guilt, the need for nourishment, the wanting, the needing for some form of meaningless accomplishment. After fifty long years, my mind was free.
Naturally, when I realized my state of mind, everything in itself began to turn around. Paranoia started to ravage through my brain, along with all of the rage and the malice that I had come to terms with so many other times in my life. So suddenly had I gone from complete and total harmony to sadistic, utter madness. I wanted everyone to die. I wanted Christine, my love, to die. I wanted her suitor, that impudent, infantile Count de Chagny to die. Even those that no longer lived, I wanted to die. My mother, I wanted her to die. Madame Perrault, who was a better caretaker than my mother; I wanted to die. Giovanni, that gifted architect. He was the only man whoever treated me with genuine kindness. I wanted him to die. Nadir, yes, Nadir, who made certain I never caused too much trouble. Him, too, I wanted him as dead as one could ever be. Ah, he always wanted the same for me, didn't he? Well, look here, old friend, look where I am now! I'm sure you'll be gloating in your jubilance! I haven't seen your son, no, he isn't here! But I'll be damned sure to tell you once I have!
And just as quickly as it had come, the rage had gone. Again I was in that empty state of mind. I was surrounded by black. As much as I tried to look around me, I could see nothing. Despite my atheism, I was half-expecting to find the image of hell that Dante Alighieri had painted in my mind. The suffering, lonely souls that had sinned every bit as much as I had; the notes of Mozart's Dies Irae protruding the silence at every waking moment. But no, there was nothing. Then, I began to wonder, in my ceaseless void of darkness, if hell merely pertained to a certain person's perception. Perhaps hell was what would torment a single person the most. As I existed where I was, I thereafter began to wonder if this, where I currently lied, was hell. Surely being left to my own thoughts would torture me relentlessly.
It seemed like hours until at last I decided to stop thinking entirely, which, rather frankly, was quite a task for me. Nevertheless, I existed. No thoughts, no feelings. Nothing of any sort pertained to me, aside from the fact that I was there, and that no one knew it but me, and me alone. I closed my eyes, and I was met with a familiar sight; emptiness. I allowed myself to meditate. I lied there for what felt like forever. All the while, I was creating music in my head. I relaxed, and Massenet's Meditation de Thais occupied my brain, all the while ringing in my ears. And I swore I felt a smile tug at my face.
When the last chord was played on my mental violin, all became serene again. I opened my eyes. Shortly after, I had begun to wish I hadn't done so. Compared to what I saw, the bleakness was a sanctuary. In front of me lay my decrepit old corpse. There it was, that ugly thing that I was harnessed inside for so long. Imprisoned by that libertine shell I remained until at last Hades freed me. Christine was there. Still there. Kneeling. Waiting. She held onto that hand, my hand, as if it were made of porcelain. With trembling hands she placed the ring on my finger, and stood. Taking one last look at me, she turned and left. No doubt the boy was waiting in the other room. And then it dawned on me. She had kept her promise. She had promised me, when I gave her that ring, that after I died, she would place it on my finger, so that I could carry into death with me the one physical thing that I had given her. She always was a sweet girl, I knew that. I also knew exactly how she felt as she left that room. I knew that there was little sorrow in her heart. As a matter of fact, she was relieved. After being preyed endlessly as she was by me, she had no reason not to be relieved. I didn't follow her as she left. She had been followed enough.
I was met with a pleasant sight, shortly after. Ayesha, elegant and graceful as ever, entered the room. The elaborate yet gaudy collar I had stolen from one of the royal felines in Persia still hung from her neck, its jewels glittering in their familiar splendor. Her crossed blue eyes stared directly at where I stood and it warmed my empty ribcage to know that one person, or rather, cat, still recognized my existence. I looked down at where I stood, out of my own curiosity as to whether or not I retained my previous appearance. I could see myself. I looked no different. I still had on the same black suit and as I reached toward my face I could feel that my mask was still in place. There wasn't a glimmer of hope inside of me that thought that perhaps I would no longer be grotesquely disfigured. I lifted my mask ever so slightly, and felt underneath. My intuition was right, as it had always been. I still had the need to wear my mask. I shut my eyes in shame. However, I opened them when I felt an odd sort of warmth spread down my leg. There was my Siamese beauty at my feet as if nothing had changed. In a way, nothing really had changed. I was still among the dead, however ironically closer this time around might have been. I looked the same, I felt nearly the same, and my process of thinking wasn't altered in the slightest. It was a bittersweet realization as it dawned on me that I wasn't so different from when I was alive.
Ayesha merely sat there and looked at me, waiting. I walked over to her in whichever physical state I was in, and reached my hand out to stroke her fur. As I did so, I noticed her hesitation before she leaned her head into where my hand should have been. In the quiet I could hear a low rumble begin in her throat. There was no mistaking it, she knew I was there. I stood up to my full height and left the room. As I did so I could hear voices coming from the main room. I walked in to find Mlle. Daae, her suitor, and Nadir seated comfortably on the furniture. How dare they make themselves at home in my house! They had no right to be there in the first place! I called for Christine and Christine only, not Christine and everyone who decided to merrily follow! That wretched Chagny… He looked so comfortable and at ease as he rested on my sofa, leaning forward with his forearms rested on his knees. His gloved hands were folded before him and he sat there quietly as Nadir and Christine made conversation.
"Christine," Nadir began, placing what was intended to be a comforting hand on her shoulder, "You granted his wish; there's no reason to feel guilty."
That traitorous daroga! I knew he would say something like that! Of course, it would be only natural to feel the need to console my frail and fragile Christine, but to betray me and act as if my every desire in life was fulfilled solely by her hand is completely absurd! Indeed, she made the majority of the impact, but I'll be damned if credit is to be handed to her on a golden platter!
Christine simply stared into oblivion. She was thin and pale, and her white evening gown hung on her bony frame like wet linens on a clothesline. She was pathetic-looking, honestly, and even her blond curls appeared to lose their luster, hanging limp like straw from her angelic head. If I were so bold, I could even venture as far as to say she began to look somewhat similar to myself, with hollows underneath her eyes, and being so unhealthily thin.
The viscount stood and took Christine's chin between his thumb and index finger.
"Christine," he called, as if she were a child, "We have to go now, my sparrow. The doctor is waiting for us at home." The manner in which he articulated each word made me sick to my stomach. It was as though she didn't have a brain in her skull.
Christine nodded in reply. It appeared to be all that she could muster at the moment. I sighed, which I found rather strange, seeing as I didn't really have lungs, and I walked over to Christine and placed my arm around her waist. I saw the hairs on her arms raise and she shivered. Both Nadir and the viscount looked at her simultaneously. Then, with puzzled expressions, they faced each other.
"Come, Christine. We need to find you a nice, warm place to stay." He stopped abruptly, and drew a large breath top emphasize his importance. "I have an idea. When we get home, we can get you some of that tea you like, you know, the kind we had in Nice?" Christine nodded. He and Christine began to walk away, but Nadir stayed behind. He looked around in an awkward sort of manner, and reached for the amulet around his neck. He watched Christine and her suitor as they finally disappeared from sight. Then, he spoke aloud.
"Erik," he called, threateningly, "I know you're here. Don't think for a second that I missed what you did to Mlle. Daae!" My fists curled, and my temper began to flare. What on Earth made him believe that he had the right to speak to me so rudely! If he persisted, I would have to show him that he no longer had any control over me. I kept an eye on the bottle of white wine on the table.
"Erik, listen to me! Leave her alone! You pestered her enough when you were alive!"
'Pestered'? 'Pestered'? 'I pestered her'?! I had heard enough. Without a second thought, I grabbed the bottle of wine and threw it with everything I had in his direction.
Nadir managed to dodge it by an inch or two, much to my displeasure. He straightened his posture, and his heaving chest was more than just a tad obvious.
"Erik," he wheezed, as if accentuating my name would fill him with some sort of power, "Don't think you can frighten me!" I smiled in amusement and arched my brow at his attempt to look courageous. "I kept you out of trouble in life, so there's no reason that I can't do the same in death!"
I shook my head and walked to the door. I opened it, knowing fully that he would notice, gesturing him to leave.
"I'm so sorry, daroga, but it's high time you leave," I said calmly, as I stood by the door. The word "leave" rang throughout the stale air.
Nadir's grip on his amulet tightened. "Very well then, I'll leave. But know that you'll see me here often!" He swiftly grabbed his cloak off of the arm of one of the two sofas and threw it around his shoulders. He sped out the door faster than I'd seen him run in years. As soon as he was out the door, I slammed it behind him, and began to laugh uncontrollably. My laughter was deafening even to my own ears, but I simply couldn't contain myself. I had finally won against him; truly won, and yet I was the only one here to celebrate my victory.
"How sad", I thought aloud, as my self-control started to restore itself, "I suppose I always could fill the room with a little Haydn to further brighten my mood." I looked toward my room and I observed a black tail sweeping the floor by where my body lay. "Ayesha!" I called, walking toward the massive pipe organ on the wall. Ayesha apparently heard me, because at once she darted in my direction. How ironic. Her name finally suited her. She truly was 'alive' compared to everything else in the room.
I chuckled softly as I took my place at the bench. My grin quickly turned into a scowl as my eyes rested upon the score of 'Don Juan Triumphant' that lay before me. I had said that I wished to be put to rest with it, but as I looked at it, it mocked me. It laughed at my suffering! I heard it through looking at the notes on the staff, through the endless fortes and fortissimos; it laughed, bellowing at me through my eardrums, never ending! I raised my hands to my ears, trying to block out the noise, but the music was in my head, and I knew there was only one way of getting it out. I rose in a blind fury and brought my hand against the composition, sending unnumbered pages scattering across the room. Occasionally a page or two would fall into the lake, causing the red ink to leak out and create little colored swirls in with the dark water. I stood there panting, the music still not gone. I could still hear it jesting at my pain! With a frustrated growl, I slammed my palms down against the first row of keys. An ear-piercing dissonance consumed the house, leaving it nowhere to go. I raised my hands from the ivory and collapsed on the bench in sobs. Tears flowed from underneath my mask and onto the ivory keys. It was more than I could bear. But the music was finally gone. All of that intolerable white noise had left. At last, I could become calm again.
A small cooing noise came from Ayesha. I looked down at my side, and there she sat, looking up at me in confusion. I scratched the top of her head and her eyes closed in innocent pleasure. A smile caught me by surprise as my palm traced her slender curves. Eventually she began to purr and rubbed against the leg of the bench. I stood and walked to my massive wardrobe. As I decided on what to wear, I came to the conclusion that wearing the same thing more than once wouldn't be so bad.
I finally settled on a black suit and tails with a drab cravat to accent. Black shoes slid on my feet, as well as black gloves on my hands. Taking off my white mask, I exchanged it with a black one to match my attire. I looked down at Ayesha and pet her head once more.
"I'll be back, Ayesha. Don't get into too much trouble." I grabbed my cloak, draped it around my shoulders, and headed out.
I made my way through the cellars with ease, as always, but then I began thinking. I truly had no need to weave through the passages, like a needle through thread. After all, no one could see me. As I slid effortlessly through cellars four, three, and two, I was met with several questions. I stopped at cellar one and my mind began to behave like its usual curious self. I remembered all of the superstitions about ghosts that I had heard over the years. One of those consisted of the ability to walk through walls and use them as windows. I grinned at this and decided that I would experiment. I had a basic idea of how this would work. It would all be a certain mindset. I walked over to an empty wall and inhaled deeply. I closed my eyes and set my destination in mind. I concentrated on the wall by the entrance of the Palais Garnier. With this, I stepped forward, and continued to step forward. After five paces I opened my eyes. I had succeeded.
Firstly, I'll admit that being out in the open, so to speak, made me quite uncomfortable. But as I looked around, no one saw me. This invisibility had its charms, but at the same time, my going unnoticed filled me with disappointment. Regardless, I kept to my task and walked out of the main doors of the Palais Garnier that I had helped construct.
***
The Paris streets remained virtually unchanged. I walked with the rest of them for once. I was at last deemed "normal". I looked up at the sky, hoping for perhaps a glimmer of sun here or there, but there were only thick, dark, clouds in its place. My eyes wandered, having no particular place to be, and I spotted an abandoned paper on the walk. Out of my ever-so-persistent curiosity, I stooped over and picked it up. As I rose, I took pleasure in noticing that my back and knees no longer ached. I skimmed through, finding nothing interesting, and at the same time I was surprised that nobody noticed a levitating paper. Then again, it was nearly New Year's Eve, and no doubt one third of the pedestrians were intoxicated. It was rather surprising, actually, a New Year's Eve with no snow. As I flipped to the last page, I saw something that made me feel as if I hadn't been forgotten after all. In a small column of its own read the words 'Erik is dead.' I allowed the paper to drop at my side. And I stood there. A clap of thunder didn't even wake me from my trance. I simply stood there, and wondered who it was that held the generous heart to even mention my name.
Another clap of thunder, and then rain.
It was a steady downpour at that. Within seconds my clothes were drenched, or so I thought they were. As civilians scrambled for cover, I stood there, and tears filled my eyes as I realized that I could do something that I had never been able to do before. I removed my mask and let the rain caress my face. I closed my eyes and inhaled the moist air. Whether it was the rain or the tears that stung my eyes, I shall never know. Like that of a stereotypical novel, I fell to my knees, overcome with emotion. That emotion was freedom- something I never would have dreamed of experiencing. A minute or two, I knelt there, and for the first time, the only music that I heard was the music of something that couldn't possibly be reproduced by man. The Earth. The rain. The wind. I was consumed by short and broken sobs, with only my knees and palms supporting me. I could feel the dirt rubbing uncomfortably against my hands. My mask lay untouched by right hand.
A carriage began heading in my direction. I immediately replaced my mask, and no sooner did the carriage pass through me. I started to feel light-headed at once, and I felt my torso swaying with every swoon. I raised my fingers to my temple to attempt to clear my thoughts, and everything went black.