Onyxx: This is the Alternate Ending.
Erik: I like this one better.
Onyxx: Well, Raoul lived to be an old man in the movie, so it wouldn't be right to kill him at the end of the story.
Raoul: See, you DO love me.
Onyxx: No, I despise you.
Raoul: Then why are you letting me live?
Onyxx: So Erik can further torment you. Death is a release from that, and you're too annoying to be let off THAT easily.
Erik: You got that right. Now, back to the basement!
Raoul: NOO! It's dark and cold and wet down there! And there are RATS!
Erik: … Your point being … ? (throws Raoul down the stairs)
Raoul: NOO! Please, God, no!
The Virginia landscape never ceased to amaze me.
I rode up to Matilda's large house and knocked on the door, praying she would answer.
I fidgeted for a while before the little old woman opened the door. Her surprised face had aged a century in the two years I hadn't seen her. Her eyes had sunken in, she had lines of worry all over her wrinkled face, and she seemed to be upset.
"Matilda . . ." I began.
I was cut off by a slap to the face. Flinching, I looked back at her. "I deserved that. Where is Chelsea?"
She slapped me again. "She's in her room."
Grimacing, I held my stinging cheek. "Oh, how I've missed you, Matilda," I said, meaning every word.
She sobbed, pulling me into a hug. "You great ignorant cow!" she sobbed, leaning into my chest.
Pulling away, she grabbed my arm and dragged me to Chelsea's room.
When she opened the door, my throat constricted. Chelsea's room was dark, lit by a few candles here and there. She lay in her bed, so pale and sickly that at first, I thought I had arrived too late.
"Chelsea?" Matilda called. "You have a visitor."
"Tell Raoul if he returns, I'll kill myself." Oh, her voice . . . I had ached to hear that beautiful voice, but it had grown weak and hoarse. "I won't eat another meal if he doesn't leave. I'll starve myself."
Matilda opened her mouth to speak, but I silenced her. Walking into the room, I took a deep breath.
"Past the point of no return, no backward glances . . ." I paused to see her reaction.
Chelsea froze. She didn't breathe for a moment, but her lips parted as she whispered, "Erik . . ."
" . . . Our games of make-believe are at an end." I knelt beside her still frame, gripping her hand, my voice cracking because of the tears that threatened to spill.
Chelsea opened her eyes and sat up to look at me. Taking off my mask, she stroked my deformed cheek, then buried her face in the crook of my neck. I felt tears on my skin, and held her while her body shook with earth-shattering sobs.
I heard the door close behind me, and Matilda's footsteps down the stairs.
Chelsea pulled away to look into my eyes. "I'm so sorry," she said softly, crying. "I should have told you. I didn't realize . . ."
I placed a finger over her mouth. "No, Chelsea," I said, tracing the shape of her pale lips. "It was my fault. I have a terrible temper and I should have listened to your side of the story. And . . ." I paused, trying not to cry. "I should have believed you when you said you loved me."
I pulled her lips to mine in a brief kiss. Resting my forehead on hers, I sighed. "Oh, Chelsea, how I've missed you."
Her finger stroked the ring on my left hand. "You kept it," she said softly, rubbing the gold band. "You kept the wedding ring."
"Well," I said, smiling, "we are married. I would have no other."
She laughed, pulling off my wig. "I am married to Erik Devereaux, the Angel of Music, not the Phantom of the Opera. You don't need the mask or wig anymore."
I smiled. As I was about to speak, the door burst open.
Cold metal touched the sensitive skin on the back of my neck. "Stand, fiend," Raoul de Chagny hissed. "I told you to leave the country and never to return or see my sister again."
I stood, reaching into my coat for my lasso. "And I told you I could protect her better than you ever could. Look what my absence has done to her." As he looked at Chelsea, I tossed the rope over his head, pulling it tight around his neck.
Covering her mouth to stifle a gasp, Chelsea's eyes widened with fear.
I pulled Raoul to the ground, and sighed, keeping the rope just loose enough so he could breathe. I needed him to be able to speak, after all.
Breathing heavily, I held his shoulder down as he thrashed. "The more you struggle, the tighter I will make it," I growled, glaring down at him. "Listen, Vicomte. You have a choice. Take everything you own and return to France with Christine. Never come back to America unless it is official business. Never try to see Chelsea again. Call off the manhunt on me. Never try to contact us. Or you can refuse this and I will kill you. It will be the final act of Le Fantôme de l'Opéra." I paused a moment, thinking. "No, death is too easy for you. It's a quick relief of the struggled of life. Instead, the Opera Ghost will haunt you for the rest of your days. You will see me in every shadow, you will hear my voice at the stroke of midnight, whispering in your ear. So, Raoul de Chagny. Make your choice."
He spit in my face, but submitted to my will. "You incompetent bastard!" he hissed. "Rot in hell, you half-human gargoyle! I will return to France and call off the hunt, but I will do so with honor. Duel me, Phantom. If I win, you leave the country. If you win, I leave and never return. A fair deal."
I removed the rope from around his neck, taking a sword from the coat of arms. "Not exactly fair," I said, taking the sword. "If you want it to be 'fair', you'll have to blindfold me. Though not even that can make up for your dueling skills—or lack thereof." Grinning evilly, I spread my feet apart to balance my weight.
Once the duel began, it was clear who had the upper hand. Being much older than him had given me more time to practice. It was basically a flashback of the graveyard, where Raoul and I had fought, with the exception of me being the one with my sword at his throat while he lay on the ground.
"Yield," I said softly, glaring into his eyes.
Growling like an animal, Raoul rolled away, leaping up and rushing at me unarmed.
The bastard. He knew I wouldn't fight an unarmed man.
I tossed my sword to the side and grabbed my lasso, but I wasn't fast enough. He tackled me to the ground, pulling a dagger from his boot and preparing to cut my throat. I punched him in the face, and he fell backward. Leaping up, I had a new chance to take my noose, and I threw it around his neck.
I yanked him with me toward the door, then tied one end of the rope to the railing of the stairs and tossed him over. Raoul struggled, but soon fell still, dead.
I walked back to Chelsea's room, then picked my mask and wig up off the floor, tossing them into the fireplace.
She crawled out of bed and knelt beside me to watch them burn.
The Phantom of the Opera died with Raoul de Chagny. It was time for Erik Devereaux's life to begin from the ashes of the old.
Onyxx: Isn't the alternate ending so much better?
Raoul: No.
Onyxx: Shut it, your opinion isn't necessary. By the way, where did Erik go?
Raoul: I dunno.
(A dark figure emerges from the shadows, wearing all black and a ninja mask. He silently draws a katana from its sheath and puts it to Raoul's throat.)
Raoul: (screams like a girl) Please don't kill me!
Onyxx: Kill him.
(The ninja grabs the fop by the hair and takes him to the basement door, pushing him down the stairs. As Raoul hits the bottom, he closes the door and turns to Onyxx.)
Onyxx: Nicely done, Erik.
Erik: (pulls off mask) Thank you. I thought so too. Did you hear the way he screamed? PRICELESS!