Hallow Notes: Act Two

The Marriage of Figaro

My terrible dreams finally ended and I awoke. It felt like I had been asleep for weeks and each sleep was filled with an endless string of nightmares. I was being chased, running down the same dark passages over and over again. Praying to wake up.

Turning over, I felt my whole face throb, even as it came into contact with something soft. I pressed a hand against my cheek and moaned finally opening my eyes. I was in a bed, for I could see the soft white shades of bed clothes and pillow cases. I looked down at my toes, wiggling them to assure me they were still there. A large down stuffed blanket covered my body from my neck to my feet. The bed itself was more than enough to support my small frame. I had ample room from where my feet stop to the end of the foot board and plenty of space to stretch out my arms to either side. Placing my hands to my sides, I pushed off the mattress. As I did I noticed my left hand felt heavier than the other.

I glanced and saw the gold stag bracelet that Genny had worn with her Diana costume. I stared at in confusion, remembering clearly that I had locked it in a drawer before we had left for dinner the following night. I had to admit it fitted on my wrist nicely, not gapping or wiggling loose.

Then I bent forward to open the clasp and look underneath it.

Bruises. Small purple and brownish marks the shape of fingers, around my wrist. Where the shade had gripped my skin and bones so fiercely. The memory of the pain I felt came flooding back to me as I reluctantly closed the bracelet once more.

A small candle was place a few feet from the bed and from its light I could start to make out the features of the room I found myself in. The bed was placed firmly against the wall. Shadows of objects, furniture I assumed surrounded it. I tossed aside the covers, letting the chill of the air greet my limbs.

I saw that my blouse and skirt were gone and I was left only in my underpinnings. Embarrassed and cold I reached under the covers, pulling at the sheets. Using it as a cloak, I stood and went to the candle. The shadows were a collection of bookcases, tall dressers, armories, chests and a vanity table, all in different shades of brown. At the foot of the bed was a cream wood chair with red padded back and seat. It looked very old fashion reflecting a design of the previous century. In fact on closer inspection, all the furniture despite its lovely quality was mismatched. The bed had four posters, but no canopy. Only lengths of sheer fabric that draped from the tops. A chest on one side had large leather straps and looked medieval.

However, my searches discovered no trace of my clothes. I went to the large wardrobe and opened the doors. Inside were dozens of elegant dresses. As I surveyed each one, they all seemed vaguely familiar. Then I spotted a hint of silver, and pushed the other garments aside.

The dress I had worn to dinner with Raoul starred back at me from the rack.

Of course I thought, these were all dresses I had seen before. They were from the costume department. I sighed, noting that each one was detailed with laces and frills. Far too extravagant for my tastes.

I checked through the drawers of the other dressers hoping to find a nightgown, blouse or shift. I pulled open one and found it filled with decadent corsets and lingerie . They lay open in pretty store boxes, still with tissue paper wrapping.

Slamming the drawer with disgust, I fell to the floor. My head in my hands I began to weep as I reasoned and realized what was going on. I had been abducted, there was no doubt of that. I had awoken in a strange room obviously filled with pretty things that my captor thought would please me. Dresses he wanted me to wear, trinkets he stole. I sat there afraid to move.

It was a long time before I stopped , driven by the increasingly cold air to seek out warmer clothes. I slipped on the silver dress, doing the buttons in the back as high as my fingers could reach. As I dressed I could here the room start to fill with soft music. My attention turned to the direction of the sound, finally focusing on the only door in the room. Set against the brick wall, the ordinary door looked out of sorts with the elegant dressing of the room. I went to it and noticed it had no lock or keyhole.

I pressed my head and hands against the door, listening to the music and planning my next move. This door was my only way out. It was open so I could leave if I wished, but I also noticed I could not keep anyone from coming in if I wanted. My captor would eventually show himself and I shuddered to think of the things he had in store for me.

I could not even conceive of who the shade might have been, or why he had pursued me. He had made an elaborate attempt to catch Genny even though I was his original target. My thoughts turned to my friend. I wondered if she was safe or even alive. And if she was, what did she think had happened to me?

Who would believe her if she went for help and where would they look?

I was lost. I did not even know where I was and I doubted if I would ever know.

The music caressed my ears, as if attempting to calm my dismal thoughts. It seemed familiar.

Then I had a reason to hope. My Maestro. He would know I was in trouble. If I failed to appear for my lessons, he could discover I was missing. My heart leaped at the thought. He had been so kind to me. I had only to think about my necklace. My simple loss had become a great concern to him. He had gone out of his way to retrieve it for me. Surely he would be motivated to find out what had happened to me. Already I could imagine a meeting between him and Genny, and she telling him all.

He was very clever. Despite his mysterious and withdrawn nature, I could discern he was extremely talented. He wouldn't stop until he found me. He would rescue me!

I repeated my affirmations under my breath as I twisted the door knob and bravely went through.

He will find me. He will come for me.

I looked up into a ceiling, honeycombed with unfinished masonry. It was as if someone had attempted to cover it with plaster but gave up. I was above a large grand room. Outside the door was a small wooden landing attached to a craftily constructed open staircase that spiraled down. The texture of the walls was the same as the ceiling. In one part of the room was a sitting area, furnished in a similar mismatched style as my room had been. Oriental rugs littered the floor in contrasting shades. Plush couches, arm chairs and even an antique looking rocking chair sat over them. A large grand piano sat off to the corner, covered with sheets of music.

The other half of the room was divided with a small partition made of canvas. It was in fact the backdrop depicting a pastoral scene. I could see over it a small stove, miscellaneous boxes and a row of doors hidden in shadow.

In the back of the room was the focal piece of the area. A larger than life pipe organ against the misshapen wall, the source of the music. The console looked expensive and well maintained, but the pipes were so twisted I was surprised they could still produce music. Some lay flat but the large ones seemed to vanish inside the wall only to appear on the other side. They bent forward to avoid colliding with the ceiling. The mass of pipes appeared like the legs of a giant spider, spreading itself across the room towards me.

A man sat at the organ, unaware of my presence. With a confidence that was foolish of me to assume I shut the door and made my way down the stairs. I walked into the make shift sitting area, my bare feet spread over the thick rugs. I wanted to knock something over or throw something at him.

He stopped playing and turned on the organ bench. I took a deep breath waiting to see his face. It would bring me satisfaction knowing this fool would soon face my rage and that of my teacher.

Our eyes met. Two yellow eyes starring at me from underneath a black mask

My hands flew to my face in horror and I murmured into them.

"No….no…no…."

Maestro…..


I watched as Christine looked at me with utter disgust. Her frail white hands blocked her face, as if she could deny the truth by not looking at me. But there was no denying it for either of us.

She became so overcome that her legs started to shake and she fell into a nearby arm chair. Her eyes went wide with shock finally giving away to tears of disbelief. I left my music and rushed to her side, thinking desperately of what to say.

I would not lie to her. Any lie would be as hurtful as the truth. I had taken her. I had spirited her away from the world above to be with me. I had done it out of love. I knew what I was doing all along. Yet I could not bring myself to confess all at that moment. Not while my angel sat before me, hurt and confused.

I knelt on the floor, careful not to look into her eyes. Not yet anyway. I scooped up the hem of her dress in my hands, already recognizing the familiar scent of her on it. Bringing it to my face, I kissed it tenderly, burying my face in the soft fabric.

"Christine...forgive me." I begged.

I could hear her tears stop but her breathing still echoed around the room.

"Forgive me for what I have done. But I had to." I turned my head and looked at her frighten face. "I know you will understand...with time."

"Maestro, why?" she asked helplessly. "Why do I have to forgive you?"

She knew that I had taken her, but she did not know where or why. My dear Christine. In that moment was I uncertain if I should tell her. Would it have been better for us if I kept silent?

"Where am I?" she asked and started to get to her feet. I moved aside as she looked around the room frantically. Watching her, being so close to her made me forget all my rational thoughts. I then felt no obligation to tell her anything. All she needed to know was that I loved her. I would move our relationship forward from teacher and student to something greater, and she would worship me for it. I was certain of this, otherwise I would not have moved forward with my plans. I would have left are alone all together. Reaching out, I grabbed her hand in mine.

"No!" she jerked and for an instant, I tighten my grip determined to hold her. But I released it as she flung her hand back. "Don't touch me!"

Her remark left me feeling cold and angry. My same beautiful student who had twice fallen into my open embrace now shrank from my touch.

"I trusted you!" she challenged. "I trusted you enough to tell you things that I did not even tell my friends or my guardian. I thought that you..." she stuttered. "that you had started to care for me...like I did you." At that she covered her mouth with her hands, embarrassed at what she had said.

I had suspected this. At first, I had dismissed it as an utterly foolish idea. And yet I had secretly prayed for it to be true.

"I do care for you Christine, more than you realized." I offered, taking a few steps closer to her. "And it seems you care about me in this same way, even if you are reluctant to admit it."

"No!" she cried, putting her hands in front of her chest. "You hurt me! I loved you and you hurt me." She removed the bracelet from her hand and thrust it forward. I saw the trademark shades of my handiwork. She then threw the bracelet at me. Despite her terrible aim , I managed to catch it before it hit the ground. I kept my composure as she yelled at me, but her words echoed in my mind and in my heart.

I loved you...

"I don't know where I am. You hurt me, you've taken me and I..." her tears still flowed across her red face. "I don't even know you."

Swiftly I moved to stand behind her, not giving her any time to move away. I grabbed both her arms and forced her to look at me. I chose my words carefully.

"I am simply Erik." I said. She did not struggle against me, but I could tell by the look in her eyes, she loathed my touch. I had thought things would be different. In confessing my true name, I had stripped away the mask of my identity.

Metaphorically that is.

"Erik..." she repeated my name and it felt wonderful to hear it from her lips. I had not been called by my name in a long time. And when I was called by that name it had always been in hatred and terror. Then she moved her hands out of my grip and placed them on my chest. I prayed she did not hear the pounding my heart made. Her fingers reached up and I knew what they were reaching for. My reflexes sprang into action and I caught her fingers in my grip.

"Don't Christine." I warned. "You don't know what you are doing."

"I know your name and if you are honest and repentance for what you have done, then you would show me you face." she reasoned through clenched teeth, betraying her still untrusting nature.

"I cannot..." I said simply, taking her hands in mind. Since I wore no gloves in my home, I relished the feel of her skin against mind. "I can say that I am deeply sorry if I've hurt you. That is something I would never want to do. But I am not sorry for what I have done, and I will never show you the face behind this mask."

"Why not? What is so horrible that you have to hide it away?"

I sighed. She knew so little.

"I have already concluded that you have a reason to hide your face. If you have been scarred or maimed, you have no reason to be ashamed of it with me. Or is it something else you hide behind that mask that will make me more frightened of you than I am now." she explained, but her words were not effective on me.

"Enough, Christine. I have my reasons."

"The same reasons why you did not tell my your true name before, the same reason you had for abducting me?"

"Yes, for I do all these things in the name of love." she shrank back. "Ah that is not what you want to hear, my dear but it is true." I shifted my left hand to hold both of hers while deftly grabbing for a handkerchief in my pocket. I brought it to her face feeling a great sense of pride that my beloved would let me wipe the tears from her eyes. "I have brought you here in the name of love. A love that you have even admitted to."

She shook her head in denial, preventing me from caressing her. "But...where am I? Where have you brought me?" I moved once again to touch her but she refused me. " And tell me the truth!"

I sighed, releasing her. "You are in a place where you will be safe. A place where all your desires will be met." I pressed a hand against my chest and bowed my head. "I will be your humble and devoted servant Christine. Here we will devote ourselves completely to music."

My comments did not draw a smile from her. She still looked at me intently her eyes moving from fear to hatred. I stepped away from her, returning to my organ and my forgotten music.

My voice was deeper as I spoke again. "You are in a place where no one will find you." I started, afraid to look at her. I had told myself I would be truthful. " You are five levels beneath the ground, in the cellars of the opera. This is a place...that you will never leave."

Leaving a moment of silence after my last words, I glanced over my shoulder to see my angel on the floor. Her hands in her lap and her features frozen in hopeless shock.

"All that I have told you...is the truth, Christine."


I sat on the floor, the horrible words ringing in my ears. I felt so betrayed and mislead. Not by my Maestro, but by myself.

"Christ..." I cursed as I started to finally put the pieces together. I looked at him across the room, my masterful teacher and now my kidnapper. It finally made sense. His strange appearances out of the shadows, his knowledge of the opera and his anonymity. I had tried to reason with myself over these things, because I had been blinded by his kindness. "You...are the Opera Ghost." I said blankly. "You are the Phantom..."

His body seemed to sag as I spoke and he looked away again. "I promise from this moment on to be truthful with you Christine." he said. "I am the Opera Ghost. How tragic that the only way I can live is not as a man but as a ghost...a shadow." he mused with a strange laugh in his voice.

I stood. "But why? Why do you live like this?Why did you do those things." He didn't answer me. "You wrecked Carlotta's room, didn't you? You know she blames me for that?"

"Christine, do not let anger cloud your judgement. I did all of those things for you. I have great plans for you Christine, for your voice and your career. I promised that I would make you a great singer. You only need to trust me a little longer and you will see. My planning will lead to a glorious future..."

I cut him off. " Was kidnapping me part of your plans?"

"Yes." he growled "There was no other way to get you to come."

"You might have tried another way." I said firmly.

He shook his head. "Would you have come if I asked?"

Now I was speechless. If I had not been afraid of my own feelings. If I have had more time with my maestro. That night of our last lesson, when he struggled to speak. Was he trying to ask me then? Would I have come with my maestro if I had known him to be the phantom?

"No..." I admitted defeated.

He came by my side again, taking my limp arm and crooking it against his. "Come Christine. I am deeply sorry that I have hurt you, and in time, I hope that in time we can forget about all this."

I shook my head. My poor maestro. He seemed as deluded as I had been.

"Here you can devote yourself completely to music. I have seen to your every need and care. If there is something that doesn't please you, we can change it. There are no distractions here, no work no responsibilities, no regrets. Those who have harmed you, cannot touch you here." he continued.

Was the only bright spot on my kidnapping that I wouldn't have to constantly look over my shoulder to see if Frederich was there? Or would I now have to cast my suspicions on Erik.

"I have rearranged the opera season for you. You are worthy of a spot in the limelight and I will train your voice so that it is perfect. In two weeks you will audition for the managers and I am sure you will secure the role of Cherbunio. After that, more great things are in store for you Christine. Trust me."

I knew full well what he meant even if he did not say it. He would see to it that I got the role, no matter how my audition went. And he would progress my career strictly through his influence.

He had walked me over to the grand piano and shuffled through the music on the top. He handed me a sheet and excitingly struck a few chords. "Come Christine, let us sing." he suggested.

I dropped the music to the floor. "No I can't..."

He looked at me concerned and raised his fingers to my chin, bringing our eyes to meet again. "Why?"

"Because I can only sing when I am happy."


I spent the rest of the day in the room Erik had prepared for me. My racing thoughts brought me no comfort but only managed to send me into long sessions of dreamless sleep.

Erik did come to my door once with a tray of food. I did not open the door for him, waiting for him to open it himself, but he did not. I waited for long passing minutes.

"How much longer are you going to stand outside my door?" I shouted, picking up on the shoes from the closet and flinging it at the door.

His respond was a low sigh. "Christine, I have hurt you, so from this point on, I will not do anything with out your approval. That is why I have not come into your room."

I moved to the door, pressing myself against it. Even though I was still full of anger, I felt a sense of longing to hear his voice. "What do you mean by that?"

"You need to eat, but I will not force you to. I have been bold enough to touch you, to hold your hands. I will not do that again without first asking you. And I will not cross the threshold of your room without your permission." he explained.

Once again he sounded like the sincere man I thought loved. I wanted to trust him again. I could not forgive him for what he did to me. I was trapped here for god knows how long, and without his company, it would be miserable for me.

"Thank you Erik..." his name seemed strange to speak. "I'm afraid I am not hungry."

"Very well." came his reply from the other side.

I did not hear the shuffle of feet and after waiting a few moments I moved away back towards the bed.

"Christine..."

I rushed back. "Yes?"

"May I sit outside your door?" he asked in a voice that sounded pitiful. I sank to my knees. My old self wanted to open the door and collapse into his arms. To forgive and forget just for the excited sensations I felt when he sang and when he held me.

Instead I pressed my back to the door, and curled my knees up to my chest.

"Yes, Erik."