Chapter 4: Aim
Raoul was hardly watching the performance. His eyes searched every possible spot in the theatre that the Phantom might be hiding, but could not find any trace of him. Not caught a glimpse of a mask nor seen the flick of a cape in the shadows. Had the Phantom heard his plans?
The singing stopped, and Raoul turned to the stage, drawing himself from his search. He had not realized until then how silent the audience had become. Their whisperings of dislike had now turned to breathless silence. Onstage, a top the large platform, Christine was standing in Piangi's arms. Raoul did not remember that as what they had rehearsed. Wait! That was not Piangi, this man was much too thin! Suddenly, he realized why the rest of the audience held its breath. The man onstage was The Phantom of the Opera!
Raoul quickly withdrew his pistol from his pocket and took aim. This phantom would become a true ghost now. Squinting one eye closed to take better aim, he gently pulled the trigger back…
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Onstage, Christine continued to enjoy the warmth of the Phantom's embrace. She could feel her doubt in her decision being pushed from her mind by his love. She waited in silence for the offstage line that was to signal them to "hide," fearing the though of losing his touch. It never came, the music stopped, and she was aware of the total silence of the room. Why had Charles not given his line? Why had the orchestra stopped playing? Carefully, as if afraid to break the silence, she turned within her angel's arms to face him, to ask him what was going on. But she would never know, for the instant she turned around she heard a sound, as if thunder had split the building. In that same instant she hoped that whoever had fired had missed their mark. Then she felt it, a horrid, searing pain in her arm. She cried out. They had missed their mark alright, they had hit her!
At the sound of her cry the Phantom clutched her tighter, instantly understanding what had happened. "Fools!" he cried, "See what you have done!" He looked down at his dear angel, his only reason for living, he could not lose her! Looking at her face, he saw that her brilliant blue eyes were now clouded with tears, and filled with pain. She let out another cry, then bit her lip to try to distract her from the pain. The Phantom could feel her fingers curling and her nails digging into his back as she fought back the pain. He knew there was nothing he himself could do for her; someone here would find her a real doctor to tend to her wound. However, he could not stay much longer. As much as he wanted to stay beside his angel, the Phantom knew he had to leave her.
Repositioning his arms so that he could lift her without causing her much greater pain, the Phantom carried Christine off to the side of the platform. Before setting her down, the Phantom carefully placed a soft kiss on Christine's brow, which was now covered in sweat from the pain. With that, she went limp in his arms and terror flooded his mind. Could she be dead? No! That could not be!
A soft breath on his face was his redemption. She had passed out, he should not have been surprised, she had obviously been in a lot of pain. He set her down gently then moved back over where he had secretly built a trapdoor into the platform one night. He had not realized until then what a miracle it was no one had attacked him. No one had shot because he was so close to Christine, but he had now lost that protection. What truly surprised him was that no one had come to attack him face to face. Perhaps they were frightened, or too far away, but I would not be long before someone crossed the distance or gained some spark of courage. Stealing one last look at Christine, he kicked a lever, and fell quickly into the darkness below.