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I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, or its music. I only own my OC.
Enjoy!
. . .
I hastily walked through the path. My legs burned from the nonstop march. I had been walking for a good ten minutes, without stopping for even a moment. Nothing would stop me. Nothing would get in my way. I was very well determined that I would stop Erik.
My sides were aching, and begged me to stop, but my legs kept moving step after step. They urged me to follow the never ending path. I found myself going through the all too familiar path, sooner than I had expected. The stone stair's curled up towards my above ground destination. I stayed close to the side of the path, avoiding the obvious-to-me traps that Erik had set up. I wasn't going to fall into the same traps that Raoul had.
My mind was set on Erik and the main storyline the whole time. I stayed focus on the events I recalled from the story. Had Erik met Raoul by now? Well, not in person, but he knows who he is, whether he likes it or not. I practically answered myself, as I recalled Erik's words from the mirror scene.
Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory. . . Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!
Yep, Erik knew him. And I was sure that he was aware that Raoul meant a lot to Christine, right? Why does Erik even like Christine? I found myself asking, bluntly.
Christine didn't have much of a personality. She was simply always scared. She never really had a choice in things-well, she never spoke up and put her foot down. It was rather irritating in my opinion. I inwardly sighed in defeat as a new thought hit me.
Well, in the storyline, she was about my age. She was young, and easily fascinated by her Angel of Music. She was just like any other girl-Dreaming of love and every dream that we all grasped in our minds. I actually couldn't blame her for being frightened when she found that even her Angel had been lying to her throughout her whole life. She had a rude awakening to who he was. The Phantom of the Opera.
Although, I sometimes wondered if she dug deep enough to learn who he really was. He was Erik Destler. He dreamed of things that always seemed too far from his grasp. Every time he reached for it, it grew further away. And it was the simplest thing. Love. Simple, yet powerful. It was something simple that never introduced itself to him. Many others had been blessed with the heartwarming emotion. It was something that Erik had felt in his heart, yet he desperately yearned to feel it from another, for him. But his dream had never been fulfilled. That alone made him suffer in the silence, where his plead wouldn't be heard.
Part of me wanted to accuse it being Erik's fault. He should've gone out in the world, and found love. It wasn't like it would come to him out of nowhere.
Oh, you mean like how you did?
The very thought nearly made my inner arguing grow completely silent. After a moment, I shook it off. This isn't about you. I told myself. Besides, the thought was too hard to answer-since I wasn't one hundred percent sure how this was all working.
Anyways, the other part of me couldn't blame Erik. He was too afraid to go far from his home. No one ever accepted him. Because of that, he refused to escape from his comfort zone. Another thing I was concerned about was Erik's heart.
I knew he still loved Christine. I was still pretty sure that she was interested in Raoul. Part of me wanted her to fall for Erik so that he could finally get his happy ending. But at the same time, I felt a stab of jealousy in my heart when I thought of them together. Don't be so selfish, Clare. I mentally scolded myself. My stupid feelings in this love triangle didn't matter. I needed to help Erik get closer to Christine.
But what had I done to help? I hadn't given much advice to him. I had only told hi kind words, and comforted him. I was only going to give Erik mixed signals. I'm only trying to help heal his heart. I thought. I didn't feel anything wrong with that, except it felt almost. . .Romantic. I needed to kick it down several notches. I had to remember that he loved Christine. Not me.
Although, if Christine didn't start to have new feeling for Erik, then she would only reopen the wounds in his heart. All the progress I had done. . .It would be gone. Unless, Erik's heart had grown stronger. But, what would happen if he got left behind in a lonely agony? What would I do? Go to him with open arms?
Yes.
It didn't have to be in a romantic way. I just wanted to make sure that he wasn't alone. I would continue to help him. Every time he would fall, I would help him up. I would do everything I could to help him. I just hoped that now that I was there, things would work out for the best. I hoped there would be no more deaths. I hoped that Christine could do much less damage to Erik's heart. I also hoped that Erik didn't do anything stupid.
I eventually reached the top of the staircase. I couldn't believe that I managed to reach the top without falling for any of the traps. I deserve a gold star for that. I thought sarcastically.
By the time I walked through a small tunnel that left the main room, my legs felt so weak. Keep going. I told myself. I somehow managed to keep my legs moving. Step after step. It seemed like a simple thing to cooperate. But the route that brought me there had to at least be a mile. It didn't sound very long, but it definitely felt like it after I came there without stopping once. My sides felt like they were protesting me from continuing. They begged for me to stop and rest. I couldn't stop just yet-I had to continue.
I looked around the dark tunnel that I had entered. It was dark and eerily quiet. My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. I began to make out a long hallway ahead of me. There was something lined along the walls. Looking closer, a clearer image formed. I realized that it was unlit torches. There were so many lined along the walls, that it seemed impossible to count.
Years of collected dust covered the unlit torches. The air was thick with the scent of dust. The ceilings of the corridors were infested with webs. It looked untouched, but the familiar site before me, made me think otherwise. The creepy corridors screamed The Phantom of the Opera.
I could hear tats squeaking, and I could faintly hear their little claws scratching the ground as they scampered away from me. Next thing I knew was that I had stopped in my tracks.
Why aren't the torches lit? I pondered. Not only that, but weren't the torches supposed to be gold candle holder that were shaped like human hands? And moving? I searched through my brain for answers as the dripping water quietly echoed through the tunnel. I knew this was the same corridor that Meg had gone through as well as Christine and Erik had. Why did it look different though? When Erik brought Christine here, it looked so magical. But when Meg came here. . . Well, she was met with the same image that I was facing.
It then hit me. In the novels, Erik could perform some type of magic. He said that he could create images for others to see. He could add or change things-Everything but his face. . . Certainly, Erik preformed magic when he brought Christine through these corridors.
Did that also mean that he made the Christine wax figure look realistic? After all, it didn't look real later on in the story. Had Erik used magic there as well? Even when I was there? Why? Why would it matter if I was there? Maybe he did that for himself. . .
I slowly made my way through the dark tunnel. I knew I was very close to Christine's dressing room. I almost felt like dropping to the ground in exhaustion, and cry out in relief when I finally approached the mirror. I wearily looked through the one-way mirror. It felt so odd to gaze through like that. Only a mirror hid me, and I was completely oblivious to everyone else.
I silently monitored the room. I couldn't take chances of walking through, and being discovered. The dressing room was still and completely silent. When I was convinced no one was there, I carefully tugged the mirror open. The mirror was heavy, and the frame felt cold against my fingers, almost making me think that it had been untouched. I could feel a thick layer of dust and webs under my fingers, where the frame hadn't been touched.
I pulled it open until there was just enough space to squeeze through. I quickly slipped through, finding the air a little cooler in the dressing room than it was in Erik's lair. I was dumbstruck to find that Erik's lair was actually warmer. It then made me remember that in the storyline, it was described that Erik's lair was warm during winter, and cool during summer. It was described that it was great at maintaining comfortable temperatures.
I nearly shivered when I entered the dressing room. As soon as I slipped from the mirror, I was hit with a strong scent of roses. It was so strong that it nearly made me gag. My eyes scan the room, finding it covered with vases of roses. All the vanities were loaded with all kinds of roses. Every kind of rose and every color were there. The scent was so sweet, yet so powerful. It almost made me lightheaded. I quickly crept towards the first exit I could find. Inching closer to the door, my hand stretched out towards the graceful doorknob, anxious to escape the powerful scent that had clouded over me.
When my fingers were only a moment away from brushing the doorknob, I stopped in my tracks. I can't go out in public looking like this. I thought as I looked down at the white nightgown that was on me. But then again, it was like I was going to sit down, and watch the performance like everyone else. I was going up to the rafters. Well, at least wear something else, just in case you really do run into somebody. I thought. Deciding it was a good idea, I looked around the dressing room. It took me a while to find a dress that actually looked like it was going to some-what fit on my petite body.
I went behind the folding screen, and striped off the white nightgown, and hung it over the folding screen. I hastily slipped on the dress. I thought the dress was pretty. It had different shades of purple and white lace lined the sleeves. It reminded me of Christine's dress in Point of No Return, except this dress was purple instead of brown. It was hard to get on, but after a god ten minutes, I eventually managed to get it on. There was one problem though.
The torso area of the dress was quite baggy. It didn't fit right, and I knew it was because I wasn't wearing a corset. I looked in the mirror, and quietly cursed under my breath when I saw how it practically hung on me.
I didn't have many choices. My bra was back at the lair, sitting in a pile of damp clothes. I didn't plan on wasting half an hour just to get a bra. I would put on a corset, but I didn't have a clue of how to put it on. And I certainly didn't plan to go and ask a lady to help me put it on. It would be too embarrassing and she would probably wonder why I had never used one before. It was too much trouble.
How the hell was I going to adjust to this time period? It was so confusing. It made me want to cry in frustration, when I looked at how ridiculous I looked in the dress. The dress still cover me up, but just barely. It was so incredibly baggy, that I feared that it could easily expose me. I sighed in defeat, and went back behind the folding screen, and changed back into my nightgown.
By the time I came out, I felt so upset, realizing that I had wasted half an hour just trying to make myself look presentable. Fool. I spat to myself. You just wasted so much time. I began to feel lightheaded, and I started to wonder if it was because I was frustrated, or the roses were beginning to overpower my senses. I decided it was the roses, as my stomach churned. I hastily opened the door, and left the room.
At first, the halls were quiet. But once I turned a corner, I found it congested with many people that I assumed worked here. I felt my feet stop, utterly scared to go near the people. I was a new face, and one that was running around in a nightgown like a freak. I knew that I would get many odd glances, and hear negative murmurs from all around me. I nearly went back from where I came, feeling too scared to walk through the crowd.
No Clare. I told myself. Don't you dare back out just because of some stupid looks and whispers. Do this because you must keep a murder from occurring tonight.
Next thing I knew, I was hastily slipping past everyone. I kept my head down, trying to avoid any eye contact. I made my way through the crowd, refusing to listen to whatever they were saying. I didn't care what it was about. I just blocked out their voices the best I could. I could feel their stares. It made me feel so uneasy, and I felt my face burn in embarrassment. I felt so self-conscience.
I tried to take quieter passageways where I could avoid people. Through nearly all passageways had someone there, and I could feel them all staring at me. I kept my head down, with my wavy auburn hair hanging over my face. Every time I made eye contact with someone, I instantly averted my eyes. I kept my eyes on the ground nearly the whole time.
I had never felt so awkward before in my entire life. Sure, school usually made me feel self-conscience. High school seemed a lot better than middle school, for it seemed that everyone was more mature and not obnoxious. But walking through this opera house, I realized that my presence here made my wretched middle school years look like a walk in the park.
I bumped into a few people a couple of times. I always muttered a sorry before I could hear them grumble and scoff angrily at me. The same pattern repeated over and over as I took random passageways, hoping to wander closer to the rafters.
I lost count of how many times I crossed a path that looked all too familiar. I took every spiral stairs I could find, praying that it would guide me to my destination. I slowly grew further and further away from everyone, as I began to climb stair more frequently. Eventually, I reached a higher level, and I could hear very familiar voices singing. I instantly recognized the song. I wasn't sure if I was relieved to know that I had reached my destination, or upset to know that I would hear Carlotta sing within only a matter of seconds. The opera sounded so jolly and I could hear the audience laughing along when a joke was told. The other opera singer's voices rang throughout the whole room, convincing me that I had indeed arrived in the right place, on time.
. . .
That's the end of this chapter! It looks like Clare finally reached the rafters! So, what's gonna happen in the next chapter? Is Clare gonna be able to stop Erik from killing Joseph Buquet? You'll find out in the next chapter.
I'll try to update on time, next week, but I can't promise anything. I'm still currently writing this part. The chapter might possibly be cut into two chapters, but we'll just have to wait and see.
Well, thank you for reading, guys! Please review! Each and every review makes my day. :D