Once again another update. Compared to my other chapters this one is quite short. Next POV will probably be Raoul's we haven't heard from him in a bit have we? Anyway enjoy chapter 7 and I hope that it has a good enough cliff hanger.
I do not own POTO. I can only dream. The characters, unfortunately do not belong to me either.
Chapter 7 (Christian)
He came back every day. He did. Every day without fail. He stayed for hours at a time. We would talk about music and many other things. Some days he sang for me. His voice reduced me to tears. Such a haunting, beautiful sound. My voice could never compare to it. People call my voice the voice of an angel but this can only apply to this man, the Phantom of the Opera.
We never talked about painful things. I never talked about my mother and he never talked about anything really. I made damned sure to stay away from the suggestion of sing lessons again. His reaction the first time had scared me off. He looked as if he truly wanted to kill me for that! But he could not, could he? Could this man with the voice of an angel have the dark soul of the devil?
I refused to believe it. Just as I refused to question his mask. I did not care about what was behind it. I was slightly curious but not enough to ask or actually take it off. To me that would be worse than death to him, or so it led me to believe. As opposed to me Father seemed obsessed with that mask. We would not stop talking about it after the Phantom left. I wondered why he was so obsessed with it. Sure it was mysterious and a little frightening but, it was just a mask most likely holding a serious deformity, one that was so bad that the world needed not to see it. I respected his privacy. Mostly because I had a face that everyone seemed to love to pinch and admire. If it was up to me I would rather have a deformed face than a pretty one. But to each his own I suppose , or maybe I wasn't thinking this all the way through.
Whenever he came I would beg for him to tell me his real name but he refused to tell me. He told me it was not to be spoken on pure lips such as mine. It was a name filled with darkness, only to curse the speaker with incredible despair. I wonder what this meant. He rarely called me by name as well, when he did he would flinch as if someone had hit him. Once I heard him mutter after he said my name.
"She has still not returned, Christine you promised!" But he whispered it softly that I didn't have the heart to tell him that I had heard. That name that he had muttered was so close to my own!
He made me swallow a foul smelling mixture every time he came it tasted quite good, well it did after he sweetened it with honey. I did not care for bitter tastes. After the first time he made me swallow that substance I had hated it. It was far too bitter for me. He just smiled and told me he had thought so. This puzzled me, how could he already know all those things about me if he had never met me before?
He seemed to know so much about me, but I think that father had told him most of these things. Father absolutely doted on me. It never really occurred to me to feel embarrassed or ashamed of this display of affection. This is how it had always been, with mother and father. Other children my own age would always taunt me about this but I did not really care. Let them taunt me. At least I had parents that I knew loved me.
The Phantom never talked about his parents. I had a feeling that he didn't have anyone to love him as people loved me. He was always so bitter to everyone. And whenever father hugged or kissed in affection he discreetly turned away, pretending to be busy with some other thing. After a while I started to resist father's affection gestures. As well-meaning as he was he was hurting my friend.
My friend. It didn't really occur to me that we were friends now. But slowly we did. It was an unlikely event. It was an unspoken agreement. Neither of us talked about it, we did not have to. We could feel it in the air, I thought it quite obvious. Though perhaps the Phantom and I are more perceptive than most people.
Father came home from work one day and I had been practicing my piano skills, I wanted to impress the Phantom. After the first day he refused to praise my piano skills. I was trying hard to get them so that he would at least be satisfied with them.
"Hello father! Did you have a good day at work?" I asked him bouncing from the chair. I had recovered my strength in the weeks that the Phantom had come.
He ruffled my hair. " I think we may win this one Christian!" He told me. Father was a lawyer. I loved how he would talk to me for hours about his cases and not spare me in detail. He did not treat me as a child when talking about work.
"Now run and change into your good clothes Christian. Our mysterious Phantom will be coming soon." Father said at the end of our discussion. I eagerly ran up the stairs. This was the only time that father would permit me to wear my good clothes. Well now, and when we visited Mother's grave.
I changed quickly. The Phantom did not tolerate lateness so he always arrived at the same time each day. I needed to be ready for him. The one time that I had been late he almost scared me to death. I had changed late because I was visiting a friend that was also ill. I was now strong enough to go outside and such.
I had spent too much time visiting my friend. I had lost track of the hour and realized that I was late for The Phantom. Luckily I was already dressed in my good clothes. I was running through the streets until I reached my manor. I stood on the front steps gasping for breath. Father then came out and rushed me into the house. Luckily the Phantom had not shown himself yet.
I ran up the stairs to my room to prepare for the visit. As soon as I reached the door's frame I gasped. The man was sitting there reading one of my books and looking quite impatient.
"I'm glad you can join me to-day Christian. And what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" He had asked sarcastically.
I had blushed and muttered an excuse. After that I made sure that I was always at home a good twenty minutes before he was to arrive. I still could not figure out how he had entered my bedroom. The windows had been locked and no one had seen him enter the manor. So was the mystery of the Opera Ghost.
To-day I got changed and waited for the Phantom to make his appearance. I did not have to wait long. He breezed into my room shortly after I had put my shirt on. There was something wrong. He looked at me in a strange way, one that I had never seen on his face before. It almost looked like pity, no it looked like concern! But why would he be concerned for me?
"How are you feeling?" He demanded. I was taken aback, he had never asked me this before.
"My head hurts and I am getting fainting spells." I informed him, not mentioning the burning feeling I had began to feel in the right side of my face.
"That is to be expected. Any other symptoms?" He asked again. I hesitated was a moment, should I tell him? No, that would cause unnecessary concern that he needn't feel.
"No." I said.
The Phantom looked doubtful but seemed to let it go.
"I have brought your medicine. Drink it." He commanded handing me a vial. I obediently obeyed and drank the liquid that was in the bottle.
I expected the normal taste of the medicine, the one that was sweet and filled my whole body with warmth. I was thoroughly disappointed. This was a bitter, horrible taste. It tasted like the one he did not sweeten on the very first day.
I started hacking and choking from the taste. I glared up at the Phantom with hostile eyes.
"You...didn't sweeten it!" I managed to gasp through my sputtering. He just shrugged and replied in a bored voice
"It appears that it slipped my mind." I felt white hot anger flash through me. He didn't care in the slightest! After I was done my fit of coughing I said to him coldly
"Get out of my room, you have no right to be here any longer." The man looked startled that I spoke to him in such a way.
"I have every right to be here, considering I saved your miserable life." He hissed.
"I'm sorry you feel that you wasted your precious time on my life. Maybe you should abandon me like you seem to be inclined to do at the moment." I retorted back, my fury growing.
"I would gladly abandon this project at the moment if I did not have a sense of duty which compels me to keep up with this miserable work." He almost growled with anger.
"I'm sorry that you feel compelled to stay here with me. Though I highly doubt you have a choice other than to look after me. How much is my father paying you? 10,000 francs? More?" I replied feeling a tad ruthless, my anger was taking over all my senses. The only thing I could feel was intense, burning heat on the side of my face.
"You have no right knowing any information such as that!" The Phantom said firmly.
"Why? Because I'm right? Are you afraid of me knowing the truth of why you come every-day? Do not fear, I face that fact every-day. I have no friends, I only have people who like my father's money! So if you are afraid of hurting me do not fear, you can't! Not like that anyhow!" I shouted back. Then, suddenly I heard the door from down stairs slam shut and saw my father walk into his carriage outside. It seemed as if he had somewhere rather important to go. Now it was only the Phantom and I in the house.
"You ignorant boy! You know nothing!" He seethed, apparently oblivious to the fact that my father had just left.
"I know nothing? That is true! I know nothing about you monsieur. You hide yourself from everyone. You treat me with cold harsh words most times, but other times, other times you speak gently and praise me as if I were your own son! You hurt me more than anyone when you yell at me! I thought you were my friend!" I shouted. He froze, astonished.
"F-friend?" He asked confused. "I have no friends, everyone avoids me..." He trailed of looking in my eyes.
"No! I was your friend! Friends tease each-other and they are interested in the same things! They laugh together! I was your friend! But you wouldn't pay attention to that! All you cared about was yourself! You thought you would be shunned because of your looks. I can tell you right now that I do not care about what you look like!" I said still shouting. I knew this was beyond rude. But now that Father was no longer home I could tell him what I really felt. I needed to get it through his thick skull.
"What...?" He asked still confused.
"I said that we were friends!" I said lowering my voice into a menacing growl, this man really was impossible.
"You want to be friends with me...a monster?" He whispered awestruck.
"Yes! You finally realize that! Friendship is not formed from looks! It is formed from emotions! I do feel friendly emotions for you! But you keep pushing me away!" My breath was ragged now.
He stood up. Now I was afraid. Where was he going? Was he leaving for good? He must have saw the look of panic on my face for he said
"I need to think. Stay here I will be back up in twenty minutes." Then proceeded to walk downstairs.
A few minutes later I heard the piano play. The song was beautiful. It was mixed with sadness, anger, confusion and something I could not recognize.
I knew what I needed to do. I knew that if I were ever to show him that we were friends, I needed to see what was beneath his mask.
I slowly crept downstairs, avoiding all the creaky parts in the floor. I slowly slipped downstairs without him noticing.
He was too involved with his music to see my hand reach out underneath the mask. He felt my fingers on his flesh. He turned around in horror just as I pulled the mask off.
I do enjoy cliff hangers. I can't wait to finally write the unmasking scene. I have been waiting for this for a long time. But you might have to wait a while...
