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Loss of Innocence

It was beautiful once. It distressed her to see the once virginal silk gown reduced to such a tattered, stained mess. She remembered the first time she saw it. It stood innocently enough on a mannequin that had looked so similar to her that she feared that she was looking in a mirror. After that disastrous episode, she had sneaked glances of it at night. She would wait until she was sure Erik was composing before secretly basking in its glory. She dreamed of wearing that beautiful dress one day, dreamed that she would one day be beautiful enough to earn the silky caress of its fabrics against her flesh.

But that day never came. Instead, in a rush of events, the dress was forced upon her. She had trembled in that dress, as any blushing bride would, as she stood in the chill of Erik's lair, watching the two men she loved struggle to survive her love. Perhaps it is fitting that the dress was destroyed. She felt that her innocence had been shattered that night, the girl in her enveloped into that stained pale cloth until only the woman remained.

The woman in that dress had chosen to give up certain happiness for the boy she loved. The woman in that dress had kissed a man who had never felt a touch of love or compassion in his life. The woman in that dress was truly beautiful.

But now that she was marrying Raoul, Christine came to a ghastly realization. The girl he loved was dead. She had died in his place in those murky cellars beneath the opera house. The woman she had become could no longer carry on the endless façade of a child for him. He constantly referred to her as "Lotte" but it only made her accept that she could no longer pretend to be innocent, naïve, and childish. A new virtuous gown stood in her closet for Raoul's bride tomorrow, but she was not virtuous any more. Instead, she donned the tattered and bruised gown and quietly crept out into the night.

.end.