Christine pleaded with the thoughts inside her head to stop flying around in a mad frenzy. She feared Erik, there was no denying that. What had he planned to do to her? There was no question that the Phantom was too powerful to determine whether or not he would keep his promise, whether he would kill yet again.
If she had to ensure her safety, she needed to leave, and leave now. Who was to say he wouldn't...wouldn't...hurt her.
And yet, his voice, his dominance, and his eyes, all commanded her to stay. Christine was, shall we call it, hypnotized by him. He had only to say, and doubtless she would do it.
On that alone she would find it immensely hard to run. On top of that, maybe he would keep his promise? His eyes looked truthful enough, and the way his voice trembled at the very thought of Christine leaving, was proof enough of his honesty.
Christine knew Erik loved her, and he would do nothing to hurt her, and besides, where could she go? Back to the Opera House? He would undoubtedly find her there.
She had no money, no friends outside of the Opera Populaire, nothing but the clothes she wore, which were Erik's.
So Christine decided, she would stay here, in the hope that the Phantom would not emerge, and that Erik would take care of her and not harm her.
If that was not meant to be, she would escape, and find a way of living. Perhaps go to Raoul's parents and family for sanctuary?
She looked around for Erik, and as predicted, he was nowhere to be seen. She scurried around the caves, finding bags, and clothes, and loose money that would not go amiss if she were to take them. She stored them in a small crevice, where the bats had squatted in before the Opera was built.
When she had concluded her frantic packing, she paced the length of the caves, looking for some way out without detection. She memorised every stone, every walkway, and every closed exit known to her.
She tried to picture the way she had come here on her first night, when she discovered her angel was not who he said he was. This made Christine think again, for if he could lie to her then, would he not now?
When Christine failed at finding a way out, she lay on her bed, thinking of Raoul, wondering if they'd ever be together again.
Erik tip-toed through the darkened passageways in the walls of the Opera, surveying all his workers below him, frantically trying to prepare for the next Opera.
It had seemed they had forgotten entirely about Christine, which hurt him. There was no one in the world, let alone his Opera that could match her talent, grace and beauty.
He smiled as he thought back on the way she had not cringed at the sight of his demonic face, had even kissed it! 'I must stay sane for her', he thought, watching Madame Giry stride over to her daughter Meg, who was shaking and whispering. Erik frowned at this, and followed them in the shadows.
"-where she is" He caught the little Giry saying to her wizened mother, who was leaning in close and biting her nails. "No one has seen her, not a whisper, mama. And with the viscomte now found to be dead, who knows where she can be!" Meg shook, and twisted her dress around her fingers in distress.
Madame Giry laid a hand on her daughter's head soothingly. "Fret not, my daughter. We will find Christine, she cannot be far." Giry looked up, as if straight into Erik's hiding place between the velvet curtains.
Her gaze caught his eyes, and he started back. She remained still until Meg grabbed hold of her waist and hugged her fiercely.
She looked down and smiled into her daughter's beautiful blonde hair. When she looked up, Erik was gone.
Madame Giry looked around for the glaring eyes of Erik, but to no avail. A small group of shrieking ballerinas came prancing over to her, pleading with her to go through a dance routine with them. She smiled on all of them, and wiped meg's eyes, leading them all out onto the stage, while Erik watched from the rafters, his thoughts trying to work out what to do about Madame Giry.