Chapter Twenty Four: (Hell)

The carriage stopped in front of the Opera House; it was twelve at night. Pierre came out first and held the door for Christine. When she came out, he took her hand and kissed it as he said "Until tomorrow night, Mademoiselle Daae."

Christine nodded, too frail to speak.

Tomorrow night was the night of the big performance. Tomorrow night was the night that she would betray Erik.

Pierre grabbed her face gently with his hand and kissed her full on the lips. Christine did not fight it; she did not scream for it was all part of the deal. She just stood there as stiff as wood. The kiss lasted for a few seconds and Christine thought that she would vomit but she managed to control herself.

Silently, she prayed with all her heart that Erik wouldn't be watching.

She hadn't really understood why Pierre had insisted on kissing her in front of the Opera House. But Pierre knew what he was doing; he knew that Erik would be watching. And in this way, even if Christine tried to warn Erik, Erik wouldn't believe her anymore.

Suddenly, as the realization of what Pierre was doing hit her, Christine whispered in outrage, "You want me to look like a tramp in Erik's eyes, don't you? That's why you insisted on this meaningless kiss!"

"Very clever, my dear," Pierre replied with a smile as he traced her cheek with his fingers.

"Now Erik will think that you've betrayed him in more ways than one. And the more pain I can cause him, the merrier it is for me."

Christine violently slapped his hand away and said with a hatred she didn't even know she was capable of, "I loathe you!"

"Of course, you do," Pierre replied in amusement as he turned around, got back in his carriage and began to ride away, smiling widely all the time.

Looking back at her from the window, he continued calmly and smoothly, "And I wouldn't have it any other way, my dear."

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine walked to her room in silence, leaving a trail of tears on the floor behind her.

She walked through the empty, dark halls. Knives stabbed her aching heart. In those moments, she wished she could die; she wished… but she knew she couldn't, not now, not when she was pregnant.

Christine opened the door to her room, miserable, barely able to walk. She stumbled toward the bed and collapsed on it, crying until she could cry no more.

"Maybe I can warn Erik. Maybe I can tell him everything and we can run away before the performance," she thought desperately.

But Pierre's last words to her still rang in her ears, tormenting her.

"Remember, the walls have ears, Christine," he had whispered menacingly and threateningly.

"If he saw that kiss, he won't believe me anymore. Even if I try to tell him," Christine thought painfully.

An anguished sob escaped her lips and died inside the haunting silence of that tormenting night.

Christine ripped off his mask, in front of all the audience, in Don Juan Triumphant. And for a moment, Erik's eyes met hers. All the sadness, the bitterness, the anger, the helplessness, the pain and the torment of the world came to life in his silent gaze.

That look still haunted her in her dreams… nightmares, causing her to forever remain chained to the walls of her own guilt. And now, as the images flashed back in her mind, she was suddenly filled with a new determination.

Christine wiped away her tears. She tried to get off her bed and go to Erik to warn him. She didn't care about the risk anymore. All she saw in front of her at that moment was her last betrayal, in Don Juan Triumphant. She knew that she just couldn't survive another betrayal like that. The guilt would either drive her insane, and she would end up in an institution, or the pain would literally kill her.

Christine gathered all the strength of her exhausted body and rose from the bed. As soon as she stood up, she felt too dizzy and fell down to the floor. To her frustration, she found that she couldn't get up; she was too weak to walk. She tried again and again, only to fall back down on the floor. She couldn't even lift herself back up to the bed.

But Christine continued to fight as she crawled toward the mirror, supporting herself on her elbows. With all the adrenaline that was left in her aching body, Christine tried so desperately to pry it open. Soon her struggles became weaker and weaker. She slowly gave in to the draining force of the fever that had started to consume her. And she drifted into darkness.

The hell that she was in seemed to disappear in an instant.

And in her dreams, she was with Erik.

Yes, in her dreams, she was sleeping in his arms and not on the cold, hard floor of her room by the mirror.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair!
Down we plunge to the prison of my mind!
Down that path into darkness deep as hell!
Why, you ask, was I bound and chained in this cold and dismal place?
Not for any mortal sin, but the wickedness of my abhorrent face!

Erik paced back and forth in his lair. He had seen Christine come out of Pierre Richard's carriage and he had seen the bastard kissing her hand and her lips affectionately.

Erik wished that he had never returned to the Opera House. For the first time in his life, Erik wished that he had never met Christine or fallen in love with her. The knives of anger, pain and grief stabbed Erik's already deeply wounded heart.

"Fool. What made you believe that you could trust her? She betrayed you once. Why would you think that she wouldn't betray you again? You're a monster in her eyes, always have been… You're a monster in the eyes of all of them… You're a monster."

Erik pressed his hands to his ears in a futile attempt to stop the tormenting voices from ringing in his head as tears rolled down his eyes

"Why, Christine? Why?"

Now he knew where she had been. Apparently she had gone there of her own accord. He felt like such an idiot, searching and worrying about her when she had so blatantly been with his worst enemy.

Erik wished to believe that Pierre had kidnapped her but Erik knew better. No, Pierre had not kidnapped her, or else why would he return her. Pierre had not forced her into anything, or else why would he kiss her, while she didn't do anything to stop him.

Erik removed his mask and stared at his face in the mirror as he whispered to himself, "What made you think that she would really love you? What made you think that she could ever love a monster? ... She's betrayed you in more ways than one. And tomorrow night she will betray you again."

Erik fell to the ground on his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks, washing his good cheek and his deformed one with their incense. Erik cried for himself… for his fate… for a love that never really was his.

The voices of his heart and his soul whispered to him in agony, "Even when the choice is between you and another deformed man, she never chooses you. Or maybe she just sees him as the victim and you the monster… yes, that's it."

"Only this time, Christine, you will suffer the consequences of your actions…you will suffer in my hell and I will never let you go," Erik hissed bitterly.

x-x-x-x-x-x

It was eight thirty in the morning and Christine hadn't come to rehearsal. Madame was so worried now; she was frantic.

Before saying anything to Monsieurs Firmin and Andre, she decided to go check Christine's room first.

"After all," Madame thought, "perhaps Erik found her and brought her back. Dear God, let her be well."

Madame opened the door and gasped at the sight that befell her eyes. Christine lay there motionless on the floor by the mirror. Madame ran to her side. She fell to the floor, her black dress spreading around her unevenly. Madame held Christine in her arms.

She patted Christine's forehead and her messy brown hair softly as she whispered worriedly, "Mon Dieu! Wake up! Oh, God!"

"What's wro-? ... Oh, my God!" came Meg's voice from the doorway.

Her hazel eyes darted frantically from her mother to her friend Christine, who lay motionless on the floor.

"Meg!" Madame Giry ordered, "go and tell Monsieur Firmin at once and get the doctor here now!"

Meg nodded vehemently and swiftly left.

Madame tried to lift Christine but she couldn't and her age didn't help her either.

"My God, Erik, where are you?" Madame muttered frantically.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik opened his eyes to find himself sleeping on the floor. It had been the worst night of his life. His mask lay a few feet away from him. He slowly rose from the cold hard ground, every muscle in his body ached. All night long, he had dreamt nothing but nightmares about betrayal and monsters.

As his sight met his mirrored reflection again, Erik hissed in agony, "And monsters can never be loved in return."

After a few minutes of tormenting himself by staring endlessly at his reflection, he slowly picked up his mask from the floor. He stared at it for a few moments and then with one swift move, he wore it.

Erik looked at all the broken antiques on the ground around him. In his rage, he had smashed them to the ground the night before. He picked up a few broken pieces, only to let them slip through his fingers and fall to the floor again.

As he looked around, his sight fell upon a drawing of Christine. He picked it up and the tears fell down his face and rested in the palms of that beautiful silent painting, the painting of his angel.

"No," he thought bitterly, "of my Delilah." Yes, that's what she'd become to him.

He was about to tear that picture into a million pieces, in the waves of his rage and despair, when her eyes stopped him. She looked at him silently, pleadingly, as if her eyes were trying to tell him something so desperately. A feeling overcame him, a sudden dreadful feeling that Christine was not well at all, a feeling that Christine needed him so.

He shook his head as he mumbled to himself, "Stupid feelings."

But the feeling persisted and grew stronger. It was as if something were pushing him to go upstairs and check up on Christine.

He couldn't fight the urge anymore. He fetched his cloak, highly irritated by his weakness to resist his emotions. And like the shadow that he was, he glided through the halls and the tunnels of the Opera cellars. He would go to see Christine one last time…to pay his Delilah one last visit.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik didn't open the mirror door because Christine was not alone in the room. There was Madame Giry and someone he didn't recognize - an old man with grey hair and eye glasses. Erik instantly knew that he was the doctor as his sight fell upon a pale and ill Christine.

All the anger and all the bitterness just disappeared in one instant. His heart started beating with worry and fear. His angel looked very sick. He could hear her low moans; she was calling him. He could hear her soft, broken, melodious voice calling out his name, "Erik… Angel…Erik," over and over again.

Then he heard the doctor speak with concern, "Madame, she is very exhausted and she has a high fever. When I checked up on her the first time, I strictly instructed that she rest. What happened to those instructions? And why and how is she here now?"

Madame Giry looked puzzled.

"I don't understand, Doctor. Where did you check up on her first?" Madame replied in confusion.

The doctor sighed.

"At Monsieur Pierre Richard's house. He found her on the street and she was unconscious, so he brought her to his home and called me. I told him that this woman is very tired and weak and that she should have a lot of rest, not to mention, that she is pregnant," the doctor replied.

Madame Giry's mouth hung open for a few moments in shock.

Erik felt his entire body go numb and stiffen as the doctor's words echoed in his mind, "Pregnant… pregnant…pregnant."

The whole world seemed to move in slow motion around him; his focus was lost and his whole body trembled.

As he closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure, suddenly the image of Christine kissing Pierre flashed into his mind. Only this time, he was seeing things a lot more clearly. He could see how stiff she was and then he heard her words to Pierre. When the kiss was over, she had said: "I loathe you!" and Pierre had replied: "Of course, you do… and I wouldn't have it any other way, my dear."

Erik's eyes snapped open again as the realization hit him.

"That is it! How could I have been so stupid! That bastard must have threatened her with the baby! Oh, Christine. Oh, my love. I can't believe I allowed myself to believe… Oh, God!"

His hand gently touched the cold hard glass of the mirror that still stood between him and her. The angel was still calling his name and soon he would go to her.

Looking at her pale face and her frail body, Erik felt a chill creep up his spine. What kind of cruel game was fate playing now? Was she given back to him, only to be taken away once more?

"Is there no way out of this hell?" Erik's heart screamed a silent scream of despair.

But her voice, though wavering, pleading and anguished, gave him comfort. She still called out his name. And from the depths of his hell, Erik thought he caught a glimpse of heaven.