Christine awoke late the next morning. She yawned slightly, rolling over and curling up again. She heard the door open, and the curtains being pulled. Sunlight poured into the room, disturbing her solitude.
"Christine! Wake up, we were supposed to be at practice 10 minutes ago!"
Christine sat up and glanced at Meg. She had overslept, and was now making them both late for practice.
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry Meg!" she flung her legs off the side of the bed, running to her closet "Could you help me? I should come home much earlier last night, but the weather was so bad, and I drifted off to sleep, and I-"
"Don't worry! You're getting married in two days, Christine, they shan't be too upset." Meg said as she helped Christine with her dress.
They made it to the Opera house in record time. The ballet girls had already begun practice, which left Meg in a position to receive a harsh lecture from her mother later that day. Christine felt awful about it, but had to rush to the piano to begin rehearsing the opening numbers in "Faust" with M. Reyer. She would be portraying the role of Margarita, the lead, as was the duty of any Prima Donna at the Paris Opera House.
Erik glanced down from his box, examining the situation. "A mediocre attempt at the role," he muttered to himself, "She is capable of much better. How many times did I explain that she must get enough sleep at night! It is essential that she gets her rest!"
He stood up, letting out a deep sigh. Christine needed him. He knew it. Now was the time to see how much power he still possessed. Gazing down at the piano Reyer was seated at, he moved to the edge of the box. He raised his hand, and a smile crept to his lips.
Christine knew that she wasn't doing her best. She was tense and unfocused, not singing badly, but not at her usual level of excellence. Suddenly, Reyer startled her by hitting a wrong note on the piano... or so she thought. Looking over to him, she realized that the piano had played the incorrect note on its own. Reyer was standing away from it, nervously looking around for either M. Firmin or M. Andre.
As the piano continued to mysteriously play without the assistance of a human being, Christine stared at it with fear and amazement. Could it possibly be that her angel of music had survived the crazed mob that had entered his lair after she and Raoul had fled? It felt as if there was a bright, white light inside her mind, blocking out all other thoughts except that one: her angel had survived. The next thing she knew she was in her dressing room. How she got there she did not know... but she was there. She was standing in a room she had not been in for months, in front of a mirror that she had learned to love and fear at the same time. She backed up a few steps, not knowing whether to run away or to move forward again.
"Christine! Wake up, we were supposed to be at practice 10 minutes ago!"
Christine sat up and glanced at Meg. She had overslept, and was now making them both late for practice.
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry Meg!" she flung her legs off the side of the bed, running to her closet "Could you help me? I should come home much earlier last night, but the weather was so bad, and I drifted off to sleep, and I-"
"Don't worry! You're getting married in two days, Christine, they shan't be too upset." Meg said as she helped Christine with her dress.
They made it to the Opera house in record time. The ballet girls had already begun practice, which left Meg in a position to receive a harsh lecture from her mother later that day. Christine felt awful about it, but had to rush to the piano to begin rehearsing the opening numbers in "Faust" with M. Reyer. She would be portraying the role of Margarita, the lead, as was the duty of any Prima Donna at the Paris Opera House.
Erik glanced down from his box, examining the situation. "A mediocre attempt at the role," he muttered to himself, "She is capable of much better. How many times did I explain that she must get enough sleep at night! It is essential that she gets her rest!"
He stood up, letting out a deep sigh. Christine needed him. He knew it. Now was the time to see how much power he still possessed. Gazing down at the piano Reyer was seated at, he moved to the edge of the box. He raised his hand, and a smile crept to his lips.
Christine knew that she wasn't doing her best. She was tense and unfocused, not singing badly, but not at her usual level of excellence. Suddenly, Reyer startled her by hitting a wrong note on the piano... or so she thought. Looking over to him, she realized that the piano had played the incorrect note on its own. Reyer was standing away from it, nervously looking around for either M. Firmin or M. Andre.
As the piano continued to mysteriously play without the assistance of a human being, Christine stared at it with fear and amazement. Could it possibly be that her angel of music had survived the crazed mob that had entered his lair after she and Raoul had fled? It felt as if there was a bright, white light inside her mind, blocking out all other thoughts except that one: her angel had survived. The next thing she knew she was in her dressing room. How she got there she did not know... but she was there. She was standing in a room she had not been in for months, in front of a mirror that she had learned to love and fear at the same time. She backed up a few steps, not knowing whether to run away or to move forward again.