A/N: Here's another chapter! I can't stop writing these things. :o My word pad is being weird and I'm not sure why, but half is in bold and the other half is in regular text. Sorry. :|
MoonlitRendezvous : Thanks for the feedback. :) I shall!
Chapter 3:
Christine's Prospective….
I woke up, groggy, not sure of what happened. I was in an ocean oh black silk. I was on a giant, and an extremely comfortable I might add, bed. I sat up, my blonde hair matted in all different directions. I looked around, unfamiliar with my surroundings.
"Where am I?" I asked myself aloud. I got up slowly, still in my performance dress –a simple white corset dress that fit rather nicely in the chest area-. Not making any noise, I looked for a door…no luck. I sighed and sat on the bed again, curling my legs under me.
I closed my eyes and thought back to the previous night. There was Raoul, oh that boy made me so mad…he was ruining everything for me. He was going to take my Angel away, I wouldn't let it.
Then, there was the voice….oh how sad he was! The sadness broke my heart; Raoul honestly meant nothing to me, absolutely nothing. I thought about what happened after I plead m devotion to my Angel…but I drew a blank. In fact…there was nothing I could remember after hearing the Spanish lullaby the Voice always sang me…
I jumped a little as an unseen door opened and a man walked in…He was tall, a nice –very nice- figure…he wore all black. A black dress clothes with white gloves and on his face…a white domino mask, sold white. You could barely see his eyes and mouth.
The site was, unsettling, but I knew him at once…he was the Opera Ghost, the Phantom of the Opera.
Strange things had been going on around the Opera House, the older Spanish ladies at once accusing an evil spirit.
People had seen a masked figured dressed in all black, except his gloves and mask, his eyes were a haunting yellow that you'd only see in the dark, his hair was black as night.
He'd stalk around the corridors….just…watching, listening to everyone and everything, as if he was searching for something.
The only thing that kept this rumor alive –other than silly ballet brats with over active imaginations -was the fact that Joseph Bouquet –a serious and clear minded man, not know for his…imagination. Honestly, he was rather a total bore- had seen the masked creature himself.
Joseph was a short older man from France who'd seen many years in the Opera, his grey hair told of the stressful story, when he spoke of such things…it had a certain weight behind it.
"I was on the cat walks, pulling some of the sand bags up when he appeared!" Joseph said with over exaggerated emphasis. "He was terrible! He had black holes for eyes that pierced your soul, he was dressed in a typical dress clothes, odd for that time of day. Just like any good ghost, he never spoke, and seemed to move like the wind. He came and went before I knew it! My poor old heart never stopped beating…"
"A ghost that wears dress clothes?" questioned Mrs. Giry, a look of out of place worry clear on her face. "I tell you its true! There is a ghost I saw him!" He spat as he got more and more frustrated, his French accent making his words slightly hard to understand. He's tone of seriousness compares to one who was testifying in a court of his peers. I only shook my head as I listened, astonished.
I didn't believe a word of it, I was religious -I went to service every Sunday- but I wasn't about to believe in a ghost that haunted an opera, there was no sense in it. Since that day, everyone saw the Ghost…and if anything went wrong, anything went missing or if anyone was the victim of a childish prank, the Ghost did it!
All of my disbelieve was washed away as I stared at the Opera Ghost, who seemed to do nothing but stare back. The description that Joseph had given was exact, Joseph had seen him.
"Christine…" The Ghost whispered so soft and gentle, it made my heart stop. I knew that voice, that whisper. That was my Angel of Music; that was The Voice. The voice that sang me to sleep so many times, that came into my dressing room…that taught me all that I knew about music since I came to stay at the Opera House…
"Oh Christine, I can explain!" He cried, moving to sit on the foot of the bed. He held his head in his hands, sobbing. "Please Christine; I beg you, don't hate me!" He cried, his Spanish accent making the words all the more sorrowful. I only stared at him, not with anger, but with utter confusion.
Had the Opera ghost, My Angel of Music, kidnapped me? And why had he? A part of me, a deep part, was secretly glad he wasn't the "Angel of Music", that part of me begged that he was a man…and physical, tangible, man…someone I could touch, feel…That part of me had fallen into a sort of lustful infatuation with The Voice, The Ghost.
I put my hand on his back, trying to comfort him. He seemed to relax with my touch, his sobs calming some. "Oh but you should be!" He groaned. "I'm not your angel of music! I am the Phantom of the Opera, a demon that's brought his angel to his Hades!" He cried, the sound of it made my heart break into several pieces.
He got down on his knees before me; still hold his face in his hands, and cried…did nothing but cried. "Please, don't cry. I'm not mad at you." I whispered making my voice as sweet and soft as I could manage. I kept my eyes on him, praying he'd calm down.
He looked up at me, his yellow eyes filled with an ancient sorrow. "Why?" He questioned, looking me over. I half smiled "I can't answer that with complete certance, sir. I'm just not, if anything, I'm awfully curious." He chuckled lightly, though it hardly sounded amused, and shook his head "You're an angel, my dear, an angel."
"An angel? Hardly." I laughed, shaking my own head now. "What is your name? It sounds awfully odd to call you Mr. Ghost." I asked, giggling a little. He smiled a little, hesitant, he was still extremely upset.
"Erik." He stated, looking over me as I repeated him.
We sat in silence for awhile; I was waiting for him to calm down some, so I could ask him why I was here.
"Sir, why am I here?" I asked softly after what seemed like an eternity. He groaned a little, sitting back down next to me.
"I don't know, I acted on impulse…I couldn't let that boy sweep you away, I couldn't let him take the only thing I've ever cared about away from me." He rambled, his voice growing terribly bitter.
"So, you decided to kidnap me?" I asked, laughing a little. His face, from what I could honestly tell, was cold. "He left me no choice." He replied, his tone matching the expression he wore. "Who?" I asked, looking at the floor as I played with my fingers.
"Raoul De Chagny." He whispered in a low, bitter voice.
Raoul? Was he insane? Raoul was a friend, and a child hood summer crush, but he meant nothing at all to me now, I hardly remembered him. I started laughing; shaking my head
"You're insane!" I said, doubled over now from laughing so hard. Raoul wasn't even my type, I went for the brown eyed-Spanish speaking Latinos, not blue eyed-French- white boys.
"I don't see how my mental status is a point of humor." He mumbled, looking down now. "It's not! I just think its funny how you'd think Raoul was a person of interest to me!" I said, laughing still.
"Why?" He asked, his tone was very annoyed. "My interest, sir" I said, pausing to sit up and straighten my dress "is just the opposite, I don't really go for the blue eyed French men." I continued, looking at him now, my laughing had turned into a slight giggle.
"Then what is your interest, my dear?" He asked, looking at me carefully, his eyes betraying his confusion. "I go for more of the natives here in Spain…" I said begrudgingly, blushing as he smiled.
"I suppose it was foolish not to believe you." He mumbled, looking at my hands now. "That doesn't change the fact that you did in fact kidnap me." I reminded him. "I know…" He trailed off, staring into space now.
"You can't leave though." He added quietly. "Why is that?" I asked, a darker part of me not wanting to leave at all. "You will see." He simply said, standing up and walking out. "If you excuse me please, senora, I have some things that need my attention. I'll be back soon, we will have dinner then. Buenos Dias, my angel." Erik said in a soft whisper, bowing before he left.
My head was swimming, what just happened? Erik, the Opera Ghost, my Angel of Music, kidnapped me because he was…jealous? Of Raoul? Why? None of this made any sense. I groaned as I layed down, closing my eyes. Before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep.
Erik's Prospective...
I closed the door quickly to Christine's little room, what on earth was I thinking? She was taking everything so well, she wasn't even mad. She was such a good girl, I didn't deserve to have such a young, believe thing in my life. I sighed as I rowed away from my little house that contained my angel, my prisoner.
She wasn't interested in Raoul, she didn't like him, and so I should let her go, shouldn't I? I couldn't, now that I showed her who I was, partly anyways, I had to make her love me…She had to see me, not this wretched demon I came off as.
But it was impossible, she'd never love, I was forever damned….
I shoved the thought from my head, not wanting to depress myself further than I already was.
"Now, time to see to my allowance." I thought to myself as I made my way to the manager's office.
"This is impossible!" cried Andre in disbelief. "It's the Phantom's doing." Firmin mumbled, laughing a little at the idiocy of the words. "Shut up!" Andre snapped, throwing a newspaper on the desk. The headlines read "Opera Star, Christine Daee, mysteriously goes missing after miraculous performance of Faust". I chuckled lightly, news traveled fast in Spain.
Little did they know, she was safe and sound, under the Opera. I'd never hurt her, ever. I'd kill myself before I did such a thing. Ironic, a man who made a sport of killing and torturing swears he'd never hurt such a young, innocent, naïve girl.
I'd have my way with her if I wanted…
"No, that is forbidden, I shall never do such a thing!" I thought to myself, I wasn't going to be a monster….at least, not to her.
I dropped a letter down into the secretary's desk and made way back to do my other errands, thinking and plotting. Though Christine was sure she had no affection for this little fop, I wasn't sure he felt the same. Keeping her away simply wasn't enough; I'd have to threaten him. A note, a note from the Ghost, should be enough! I rushed back to my little house, quiet enough not to disturb the sleeping angel in her room. I smiled as I wrote my letter "This will do just the trick!" I thought to myself, laughing bitterly. Let's see him take my precious Christine now!
Raoul's Prospective...
I awoke that morning, feeling just awful from what I had over heard, to an old looking letter with a red seal; it belonged to something out of the 19th century, sitting on my door step.
I stared at it curiously; the letter gave me an eerie feeling. I opened it carefully…the writing was clumsy and in an old red ink….
"Dear Raoul De Chagny,
You'd be wise to keep away from Christine Daaé, she's mine. She belongs to me, and I'm not keen on sharing. I do not intend to let a fop like you take her from me, so, be wise and take my warning or you shall eternally regret it…remember, there are some things worse than death.
Sinceramnete,
El Fantasma De La Opera, The Opera Ghost."
A jolt of fear shot down my spine and my skin was cold, I couldn't breathe. Was I being threaten by a ghost? Though, aloud, it seemed funny, but I took this threat very literal. My heart was racing a mile a minute, I looked around to see if the culprit was lingering.
I went inside and threw the letter on my bed, sitting on the foot of it, anxious. Turning the TV on, hoping for some sort of distraction, I nearly fainted, again.
"La diva de la ópera, Christine Daaé, desapareció ayer después de su actuación celestial de Fausto. Nadie ha oído hablar de ella a ver. Estén atentos para más noticias sobre la nueva Prima Donna y de su desaparición." The TV reporter recited, I translated what I could. Christine had gone Messing since yesterday, that man in her room took her!
I quickly got dressed and rushed down to the Opera house, demanding to see the managers. "WHERE ARE THE MANAGERS?" I screamed, trying to get past a few ushers. "Ahh, Senor De Chagny!" Andre said, coming down the step.
"Monsieur Andre, please tell me, where is Mademoiselle Daaé?" I pleaded. He grimaced as if he'd been asked this several times that day
"Senor De Chagny, I'm afraid we don't know...no one does." He sighed in a tired voice, shaking his head.
A/N: Mkay, what do you think? Yes? No? Let me know loves! I love feedback, reviews, reviews! Thankies! *le fades away*
