Another chapter! Okay so for the first parts of this story, the chapters will alternate between the experiences of Christine and the experiences of Erik, so this chapter therefore is Erik's first chapter! I hope you enjoy it. This is a special treat that I updated so quickly, be grateful haha, and expect another one on Saturday!
Also I realised I forgot the disclaimer. Oops! I will edit that in but let's clarify, I don't own Phantom of the Opera
Erik heard the mob approach. He knew it was now, or never. He was sorely tempted to sit, and wait for them to find him, let them kill him. His soul was already dead after all, after Christine had left his life, for good. He had nothing else to live for. She was the one thing, that one beacon of hope in his miserable and lonely existence, and he had lost her. He had let himself become such a jealous mess that he had resorted to kidnapping her. No doubt that knight in shining armor of hers would have followed him, he had known it all along, and yet he had let it happen. He had known that he would have threatened his life if he had come down, and yet that turned Christine even more against him. He had not wanted to become the angel in hell, but he had done so, and therefore lost her friendship. Her love was something that he could not have ever earned. A twisted man with a twisted face to match. He did not deserve her love.
Then why could he not stop imagining what might have happened if he had played it out differently? He had revealed himself to her only because of the boy, the suitor, that he did not want in her life. What could have happened if he had revealed himself earlier? They could have been long married before the Vicomte even became the patron of the Opera Populaire. Maybe in another life, another world, he could have had his Christine. Maybe in another life she could have loved him. If only he had played his cards differently! He sighed at the thought, knowing in his heart, that even if he had, she could not have loved him. It was not in the nature of a human to overlook something like he had. Yes it saddened him, but he had lived with it all his life. Rejection was just a common occurrence.
He wanted to sit, and wallow, and wait to be taken, but something in him spurred him along and he found himself smashing the mirrors, to reveal his secret exit. He slipped into the one that he had planned to originally leave through with Christine, making his heart ache slightly. He shook off the feeling and began to walk down the pathway, making sure his foot steps did not echo too loudly, to eliminate the possibility of him being found. He heard the mob getting closer, and, paranoid, stepped up the speed of his footprints slightly, trying to assure that he could escape. He would not allow them to take his life so easily.
He soon arrived at the end of the tunnel, the only disturbances in the silent tunnel being the occasional drip of water and footsteps above him. Each time he heard a noise, he would stop, assess what is was, before making his mind up whether to continue slower or faster. He had tied his trusty horse up at the end of the tunnel, to wait for his arrival. His heart once again ached at the thought of his lost love. He almost turned back, to face his fate, but something stopped him from doing so. He instead climbed aboard his horse, and exited the theatre, riding at full speed into the dark night, though the skies were still lit ablaze by the burning Opera Populaire.
He felt remorse for the theater, there was no doubt about it. That was certainly his fault and all the time that he had poured into creating the perfect system of tunnels, allowing him to creep around the theater, silent and unnoticed, giving him the illusion of being a ghost, all the effort he had made to improve the performances put on there, and worst of all, all the memories, the happy ones, of him coaching Christine to sing, when there was no complication of suitors, or love, or anything of the sort. It seemed they were going up in flames with the burning theater. He turned his head gently toward the theater, taking one final look at the place that he had grown up in, and had been his only true home. He sighed once, before turning back around, and riding off into the dark night and into the unknown.
Erik knew that he had to get out of Paris, there was absolutely no way he could be safe there, and so he rode towards the south, though he had no idea why, and was soon safely out. He began to scour the countryside for small villages that might have an old abandoned barn or stable that he could take refuge in. He figured that was the best idea, as both would be considerably warmer than outside. He was extremely glad for the cover of darkness that he had been granted with; it gave him a chance to move undetected and unseen. It meant he was safer, though he wasn't entirely sure why he cared. No one would care surely, whether he lived or died. Though thinking that, he felt a smirk grace his face. A lot of the people at the theater clearly wanted him dead, it would probably cause anguish and uncertainty in their lives for a while. He sighed at this, realizing how stupid he would sound if he voiced these thoughts.
'Look at you Erik, acting like a petty child, relishing in anguish... What happened...' He thought to himself, knowing that his love had driven him insane.
He wished he could apologize to Christine somehow, show her that he was sorry for everything he had done, but he knew that he could never have this chance. She was long gone, and clearly happy with her Vicomte.
He soon arrived at a small village, he recognized it, and figured that if he were able to find himself a barn, he would be able to then figure out what he was able to do next. He rode silently along the cobbled streets, trying to make sure that Cesar's hooves made as little sound as possible, he glanced around, for any sign of an ambush, or an angry mob, but none came, and he paced through the streets in an eerie silence, with only the clicking of Cesar's hooves in his ears. Soon, he was lucky enough to come across a shabby looking barn. It seemed as if it had been unused for about a year, and so to Erik, it seemed like the perfect place for him to hide out, even if only for a night. He opened up the creaky door, and peered in. The hay seemed dry, and neglected, but looked warm, and that was all he was really looking for. He edged in, taking Cesar with him cautiously, in case someone was around, before creaking the door shut. The barn was dark, and it smelt rather odd, but it would do for a nights rest, and to sort himself out in the morning.
Erik yawned and it suddenly hit him just how tired he really was. He laughed to himself a little, before taking the bag off of Cesar that he had packed. He had known the escape with Christine would have been quick, and he would not have had time to pack things up, so he had prepared one. It contained all the things he needed to cover his face up, for habit purposes now, though he had left one of his masks at the lair, his cloak, some blankets, and a whole array of other things, including money. He had been in his right mind enough at least to remember to take money. Looking back, he was unsure quite how he had thought he was going to look after Christine well enough. She deserved luxury, and to be spoiled, not barns, hay and a disgusting face before her eyes. He sighed, and curled up beneath one of the blankets. He wished desperately that his Christine could have been by his side, but by choice, not how he had intended. He sighed, and fell asleep on that final thought.
The light streamed in through the cracks in the barn, and hit Erik directly in the face. He stirred gently, blinking slowly, still tired, but knowing that sleeping any longer would have been considered unproductive. He coughed to himself, before retrieving the bag. He searched through it, and found a black wig, and a mask which, out of habit, he put on, exactly as he had been doing for the large majority of his life. He adjusted it slightly, to make it more comfortable, before looking around. By his estimations, and the short winter days, he guessed it was probably around ten in the morning. He knew that there was no way that he could even think of moving until nightfall.
'One of the many perks of being a monster...' He thought glumly to himself.
He walked up to his horse and patted him lightly, taking a lot of comfort in the presence of the familiar animal. He rubbed the horses nose gently, earning an affectionate nose rub from the horse.
"It's just you and me now boy..." He muttered sadly to the horse, but that got him thinking.
It had not always been that way. Antoinette had been there for him and she had helped him through the times when he no longer thought that life was worth living. Last night he had told himself that the reason he was somehow still willing to live, and willing to fight for it, was to relish in the bitter anguish of the members of the Opera Populaire, but in truth, another reason was also because of Antoinette. He owed her so much, if it weren't for her, he would have been a boy and a murderer, on the run, and would never have had a chance to settle. Thanks to Antoinette, he had his home, a place to live and stay that he liked to be in, and it gave him a chance to exercise his ebdless creative possibilities. He could never repay her for those things.
It was in this moment that Erik decided that even if it killed him, he had to see Antoinette one more time. She was like the mother or sister he never had, and she had always protected him from the worst, as far as she could. He owed it to her to visit her one final time, to allow her to see him, before he slunk back off, into the pits of despair. Maybe he'd just wander out into the wild and let himself die. Either way, he didn't have to make a choice first. All he knew was that he needed to find Antoinette. Even if just to tell her that he was alive and that he was sorry for everything. Maybe she could tell Christine how sorry he was? No, better to let her keep believing he was dead, and carry on with her life. He would probably only complicate things in her life, make her scared again, not to mention the irritating Vicomte would probably start hunting him. But Antoinette, it wouldn't ruin her fantasies to find him alive. She might even be glad to see him again, even if it were the final time. So straight away, he began to plan how he would find and contact Antoinette, without Christine finding out.
So that was chapter two! I know it seems to be moving quite slowly but I promise, it will get better. :D I hope you enjoy it, please review, favourite or follow and I will pm everyone who does so and if you dont have an account you will get a mention on the story saying thank you because stories do not work without readers!
Look out for the update on Saturday!