A/N: This is just out of the top of my head...please no flames for this
part...it's been a while since I've seen my muse, so SUE ME! Hope you
like...thanx for the reviews and keep it up! Sorry for the delay of the new
chapter...I had a very busy weekend filled with outdoor event...especially
picnics...ugh...
IV. Christine came back to her senses and walked over to her dresser after staying at the window for a few minutes. She saw on the dresser, a box. She had never seen the box before. Maybe it was some new mail that she had gotten that very morning. It was around ten o'clock now. She looked at the box. It was not very big in size: about the size of her fist. The small box was plain brown, not decorated except for a fine red ribbon that was bound around it. She untied the ribbon and tied it into her blonde curls. When the ribbon was gone, she saw in a fine, loopy print, the words To You, from Someone.
She pondered the words with great thought. She did not even know what was inside the small box, let alone, who sent it. Soon, after great curious thoughts, she carefully opened the box. Inside the box was a leather pouch that was a very dark shade of blue. The feel of the pouch was wonderful against her pale fingers. She opened the pouch to find a diamond ring, along with a folded note. It read:
My Dearest,
This ring is to help you remember the events of long ago. It took me a long time to find it, but I did. I know what happened to you one year ago, though others do not believe you. I have found out the occurrences from a secret source that I cannot speak of. These events have been close to your heart, especially the passing of Monsieur de Changy. I am terribly sorry for your great loss. This ring is a reminder of your love for the viscount, and of your other loss. This ring is mainly a reminder of your loss of Monsieur Erik, the Angel of Music, as you once called him, though you now think of him as a devil of shadow. Yes, I know of these events, of the real reason for Monsieur de Changy's death, and of Erik. You know who I am, but you do not know. I know you, and where to find you.
Yours
That is all there was in this tiny box. She could not ponder who this person was. How is it, then, that 'Yours' said that she knew who he or she was? Maybe it was someone she knew...or did not expect...
Christine found silent tears pouring down her face and saw wet blotches on the unsigned note. Who was 'Yours'? How did 'Yours' know her? How did 'Yours' know about Erik? While pondering these questions and more, she looked down upon the ring which sat in the palm of her hand. She scanned the gold band, looking at its delicately carved roses with diamonds in their centers. She saw her initials in the inside of the small ring. She tried it on her left ring finger, just for size. She found it a perfect fit. She took off the ring and let it fall with a silent thump to the floor. She would know that ring anywhere. That was the ring that Erik had used to propose to her. How did 'Yours' find it? Who was 'Yours' anyway? When would her past stop haunting her?
"Mlle. Christine?", a voice echoed through the silent halls.
"Yes?", she called a little unsteadily.
"You have a visitor," called out the voice again, this time Christine recognized it as her maid's.
Christine walked quietly out of her room and into the hall. The walls of her hallway were very different from the therapy building's walls. Her walls were decorated with pictures of her ancestors. As she walked, she looked up at each one. When she would look at one, she would whisper the name to herself, the pictures, the memory. These pictures were very close to her, and she was glad that she had remained alive to see them again. As she was nearing the end of the hallway, one of them made her stop in her tracks. It was a portrait of her father. He looked tall and handsome holding his prized violin, and she was always looking upon it in awe when she would pass by it, but this day was different. One year ago, her life changed...forever.
"Mademoiselle?", a voice called. This time it was not her maid's voice. It had startled her. She did not know who was visiting her, but the voice did sound familiar.
"Good morning, Monsieur," said Christine, bowing her head as she entered the living room. Her visitor was on the couch, but had gotten up when she walked in and spoke.
"As to you, Mademoiselle," said the man, taking her hand in his and placing a soft kiss upon her silky skin. She blushed at the kind gesture. It had been very long since someone had done that unto her.
"I am not sure that you know who I am, Mlle. Christine," said the man. Oh, but she knew who he was, just not why he was here.
"Yes, I know who you are, M. Nadir," she replied, "You walked the corridors in the Opera House...and I think you knew of someone I dreamed about for a long time," she added.
"Then, since you know who I am, do you know why I am here?", he asked. She shook her head signifying that she had naught a clue.
"Mlle. , I am here to warn you. I know what happened to you, M. Raoul, and Erik one year ago today, and I do not want to frighten you, but I have a bad feeling about today," he said in a serious tone. Now, Christine knew very well that the Persian man standing before her was usually right when it came to anything and everything even though she did not know him that well. She could see it in his eyes.
"Monsieur, I think of it very kind that you are concerned for my well being, but a feeling...it is just a feeling," she said after a few moments of silence.
She could not keep eye contact with Nadir. His eyes were too strong, too right. Instead, she looked about her living room that she knew all too well. The nicks and crannies of her living room were all used for every hide and seek game that Christine would play with Raoul day in and day out. She had inherited Mama Valerius's home after she had died. She would think of this house as if it were her own for years even though it had only been a few months.
Nadir took notice that Christine could not look him in the eye, so he took her pale face in his warm hands and turned her eyes to meet his.
"Christine," he said seriously, "It is not only a feeling. I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems that it is so. Have you been reading the newspaper lately?"
It seemed like an odd question to ask at that moment and time, but Christine saw that his face was stern.
"No, Monsieur, Mama Valerius taught me to not always believe what I read," she said in a quizzical tone. She started to get choked up, for she knew what was going to be thrust into her trembling hands.
"Well, I hope that this time, you believe, and watch out for yourself," said Nadir, taking out today's newspaper. He held it out for Christine to take, but Christine did not take it. She saw it plain as day, though at that moment, she felt as if night was completely surrounding her. She fell to the floor, weeping as Nadir dropped the paper to cradle the crumbling girl. The maids of the household rushed in to see what the ruckus was about, but they all saw the reason why, by looking at the newspaper. The front headline in big, black, bold print read:
THE PHANTOM HAS ESCAPED
IV. Christine came back to her senses and walked over to her dresser after staying at the window for a few minutes. She saw on the dresser, a box. She had never seen the box before. Maybe it was some new mail that she had gotten that very morning. It was around ten o'clock now. She looked at the box. It was not very big in size: about the size of her fist. The small box was plain brown, not decorated except for a fine red ribbon that was bound around it. She untied the ribbon and tied it into her blonde curls. When the ribbon was gone, she saw in a fine, loopy print, the words To You, from Someone.
She pondered the words with great thought. She did not even know what was inside the small box, let alone, who sent it. Soon, after great curious thoughts, she carefully opened the box. Inside the box was a leather pouch that was a very dark shade of blue. The feel of the pouch was wonderful against her pale fingers. She opened the pouch to find a diamond ring, along with a folded note. It read:
My Dearest,
This ring is to help you remember the events of long ago. It took me a long time to find it, but I did. I know what happened to you one year ago, though others do not believe you. I have found out the occurrences from a secret source that I cannot speak of. These events have been close to your heart, especially the passing of Monsieur de Changy. I am terribly sorry for your great loss. This ring is a reminder of your love for the viscount, and of your other loss. This ring is mainly a reminder of your loss of Monsieur Erik, the Angel of Music, as you once called him, though you now think of him as a devil of shadow. Yes, I know of these events, of the real reason for Monsieur de Changy's death, and of Erik. You know who I am, but you do not know. I know you, and where to find you.
Yours
That is all there was in this tiny box. She could not ponder who this person was. How is it, then, that 'Yours' said that she knew who he or she was? Maybe it was someone she knew...or did not expect...
Christine found silent tears pouring down her face and saw wet blotches on the unsigned note. Who was 'Yours'? How did 'Yours' know her? How did 'Yours' know about Erik? While pondering these questions and more, she looked down upon the ring which sat in the palm of her hand. She scanned the gold band, looking at its delicately carved roses with diamonds in their centers. She saw her initials in the inside of the small ring. She tried it on her left ring finger, just for size. She found it a perfect fit. She took off the ring and let it fall with a silent thump to the floor. She would know that ring anywhere. That was the ring that Erik had used to propose to her. How did 'Yours' find it? Who was 'Yours' anyway? When would her past stop haunting her?
"Mlle. Christine?", a voice echoed through the silent halls.
"Yes?", she called a little unsteadily.
"You have a visitor," called out the voice again, this time Christine recognized it as her maid's.
Christine walked quietly out of her room and into the hall. The walls of her hallway were very different from the therapy building's walls. Her walls were decorated with pictures of her ancestors. As she walked, she looked up at each one. When she would look at one, she would whisper the name to herself, the pictures, the memory. These pictures were very close to her, and she was glad that she had remained alive to see them again. As she was nearing the end of the hallway, one of them made her stop in her tracks. It was a portrait of her father. He looked tall and handsome holding his prized violin, and she was always looking upon it in awe when she would pass by it, but this day was different. One year ago, her life changed...forever.
"Mademoiselle?", a voice called. This time it was not her maid's voice. It had startled her. She did not know who was visiting her, but the voice did sound familiar.
"Good morning, Monsieur," said Christine, bowing her head as she entered the living room. Her visitor was on the couch, but had gotten up when she walked in and spoke.
"As to you, Mademoiselle," said the man, taking her hand in his and placing a soft kiss upon her silky skin. She blushed at the kind gesture. It had been very long since someone had done that unto her.
"I am not sure that you know who I am, Mlle. Christine," said the man. Oh, but she knew who he was, just not why he was here.
"Yes, I know who you are, M. Nadir," she replied, "You walked the corridors in the Opera House...and I think you knew of someone I dreamed about for a long time," she added.
"Then, since you know who I am, do you know why I am here?", he asked. She shook her head signifying that she had naught a clue.
"Mlle. , I am here to warn you. I know what happened to you, M. Raoul, and Erik one year ago today, and I do not want to frighten you, but I have a bad feeling about today," he said in a serious tone. Now, Christine knew very well that the Persian man standing before her was usually right when it came to anything and everything even though she did not know him that well. She could see it in his eyes.
"Monsieur, I think of it very kind that you are concerned for my well being, but a feeling...it is just a feeling," she said after a few moments of silence.
She could not keep eye contact with Nadir. His eyes were too strong, too right. Instead, she looked about her living room that she knew all too well. The nicks and crannies of her living room were all used for every hide and seek game that Christine would play with Raoul day in and day out. She had inherited Mama Valerius's home after she had died. She would think of this house as if it were her own for years even though it had only been a few months.
Nadir took notice that Christine could not look him in the eye, so he took her pale face in his warm hands and turned her eyes to meet his.
"Christine," he said seriously, "It is not only a feeling. I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems that it is so. Have you been reading the newspaper lately?"
It seemed like an odd question to ask at that moment and time, but Christine saw that his face was stern.
"No, Monsieur, Mama Valerius taught me to not always believe what I read," she said in a quizzical tone. She started to get choked up, for she knew what was going to be thrust into her trembling hands.
"Well, I hope that this time, you believe, and watch out for yourself," said Nadir, taking out today's newspaper. He held it out for Christine to take, but Christine did not take it. She saw it plain as day, though at that moment, she felt as if night was completely surrounding her. She fell to the floor, weeping as Nadir dropped the paper to cradle the crumbling girl. The maids of the household rushed in to see what the ruckus was about, but they all saw the reason why, by looking at the newspaper. The front headline in big, black, bold print read:
THE PHANTOM HAS ESCAPED