Christine

She could still remember their wedding: finally, there came the day in which Raoul himself put the veil upon her head. No masks, no fears, and even though there were many people watching them, it felt like one of their most intimate moments together. "Did I make the right choice?" At that point it was no longer worth it to wallow in that question. Their bond through marriage had been sealed and Erik had long since left the continent. And for a brief period of time, she did feel like that marriage would work, that maybe she made the right choice after all. "But that was a long time ago", she thought before convincing her husband to stay home.

Their opportunity to make things work had come and gone. Every time things seemed to be taking a turn for the best, they kept turning until they reached the point in which they started. Christine never even saw the face of her child, and that was something for which she never truly forgave Raoul. For years she dreamed of what his face could have looked like, how his laughter would have sounded like… But those dreams often turned into nightmares. That whole experience left a deep scar which refused to heal even after all these years, and still tortured her as much as the choices she'd made even further back in time. With no hopes of finding true happiness and relief in her wedding, singing was the best medicine she had left. Every opportunity she accepted to perform abroad meant more time away from that house and those worries. On-stage she was not bound to the role of Christine, every night she could become someone else, molding her spirit to that of her character, escaping the troubles of her own soul. It was truly liberating and she relished those moments as well as the notoriety they brought upon her.

America was possibly her greatest opportunity yet: a five states tour, culminating with a show in the Metropolitan Opera of New York city. It was a very long journey through lands she'd never explored in her life and that was thrilling, not to mention the fact that it had been the place to where her former mentor had escaped. Deep down she knew that a great part of her excitement for that country was due to that fact alone. Even after all those years, she still felt comfort in the thought of him, it was a rose-tinted memory frozen in time, uncorrupted by the passing years, an amulet in which she found refuge. It had been roughly fifteen years since they'd last seen each other, she had no idea which state of that country he was in, and each of those states was as big as an average European country. Nonetheless, in each of her presentations she sung as if he was in the audience, feeling a special warmth just in the hope that he might be.

The first state she performed in was Florida, where she disembarked to a small swarm of reporters eager for new information concerning herself and her presentations. "The local presses of these states must have been warned of my coming" She thought, surprised and flattered with the warm welcome. She had learned a bit of English as a result of her trips to Britain, so she thought she'd be able to indulge the reporters with interviews, which she did for a while. However, she soon found herself overwhelmed by the sort of questions being presented to her. At one point, a reporter asked her something which strangely startled her, seen as she couldn't understand what he said at all. She was speechless for a while, until a formally dressed youth broke through the barrier of reporters, handed her a letter and addressed the reporters in English:

-Gentleman, I regret to inform you that Mrs. de Chagny must promptly depart for an important conference with the heads of our company. I'm her official escort and translator throughout her tour of the country, and she'll more properly address the press at her scheduled interviews, for more information, contact the "United Theaters Agency" at your latest yellow pages. – Said the youth before escorting a confused Christine, along with her luggage onto a nearby carriage.

Although she didn't quite understand much of what was being said, she was relieved to be taken out of that situation, and she later found out that in the letter given to her, it was written most of what the boy said, but in French and adorned with that intricate seal present in the letter she received from the theater company. Soon enough they arrived at a modest looking carriage, and the boy finally spoke in a language she could fully understand:

-I must apologize for the suddenness of our introduction, I believe our company neglected to mention me in any of the paperwork they sent you.

-I believe that I've neglected to properly read through all of that paperwork, so I wouldn't know anyhow- She said with a dry smile on her face.

-Well, allow me to properly introduce myself: Gus Miller at your service, Mrs. de Chagny – he said in a bow.

-Please… you can call me Christine- She cordially replied, despite the lump in her throat left by the mention of that name.

At this moment she finally stopped to pay attention to the boy in front of her: Upon closer inspection he was not as young as she'd first assumed, but he was certainly no older than 25. His grasp of the French language was almost that of a native speaker, although people like him were not exactly common where she came from.

-Tell me, have you been to France before? - Said Christine

-Oh no Ma'am, I was born and raised in West Virginia, this is the first time I've even left the state.

- Really? You speak the language quite exquisitely for someone so young.

-It does one well to know good French if he works as a translator.

-I suppose so. Seems I gained an unexpected but valuable ally in this expedition– She said with a smile

-That is certainly what I hope for, Ma'am. – He said calmly

-Please, you can call me Christine. -She reiterated with lingering smile on her face.

-Yes… Lady Christine. - Replied the boy, cordially.

The voyage continued in silence for a while, until Christine remembered something.

-By the way, back at the dock, did you hear what that last reporter asked me?

-Yes, I did… It was really the reason I broke through so suddenly, I figured you… didn't feel comfortable answering such questions.

-So you were behind the crowd that whole time? – She said with a smile.

-Well, yes ma… um… Christine. I supposed you were handling yourself well with those reporters until that last question. I… It was sort of an impulse reaction, breaking through like that, I apologize if it was inconvenient.

-Not at all! In fact, it was most convenient. I didn't understand a word to come out of his mouth. – She said with a chuckle.

-Oh – Replied the boy. Silence struck the carriage once again.

-So? What did he ask?

-Oh… Well… He asked why the vicomte de Chagny wasn't with you.

-Oh… I see. – Replied Christine, as the smile had faded from her lips and chills went down her spine.

-I figured any answer an unaccompanied lady would give in that situation would be even worse press than saying nothing at all.

-Quick witted you are, and smart. It'd also be smart to never mention such matters again.

-Duly noted… – Gus said before silence struck once again.

She had left her husband back in France despite his pleading at the opera house. Whenever she felt bad about it, anger was soon to overcome any of these feelings. Years without giving half a damn about her performances, he suddenly shows up expecting everything to be as it was however many years ago? After that nary a word was said between the both of them until the day she departed, only anguish filled those days of deafening silence. Being in America finally gave her a chance to breathe, and she didn't at all want to be reminded of that time, much less of… Him.

They eventually reached the hotel they were staying at. It was a humble place, far removed from the hotels or accommodations she'd stayed at during her other international performances. Still, it would do just fine. Before settling into their rooms, Christine asked Gus:

-About those scheduled interviews mentioned in your letter… Am I contractually obligated to do them?

-I… Actually, I don't know. The contracts didn't specify anything about interviews.

-So that's a no.

-I suppose…

-Great, I'm not doing any of them. See you later! – She said before darting off into her room, leaving a puzzled Gus behind.

From this point, things went on mostly as scheduled. She rehearsed for roughly a week before performing at a local opera venue, also of humble appearance. A fair amount of people showed up at the venue, although it was in no way packed full. This helped her performance in a way. In the stage she could finally let go of herself, and perform as much for her, as for the vain hope that he was in there somewhere listening.

The same situation was repeated on the other states she landed: Reporters at the dock, modest hotels, humble venues. One of her favourite things about this trip was her leisure time sightseeing around the cities she'd been to without much fear of getting lost, as Gus served as a sort of tour guide even if he was sometimes as lost as she was during these trips. The boy could at least read a map though, and their time exploring was indeed quite fun for Christine. They'd often just stroll around, visiting parks and fairs that happened to be touring the town. The most interesting of those cities she found in Charles Town, on the third stop of her journey. This was Gus' hometown, so he knew the city like the back of his hand and they walked through that city much more often than the others. After the first day of presentation, Christine was feeling much more confident and less tired than usual and felt like strolling through the city again. It was late night however, and Gus was most likely sleeping at that time. She attempted to knock on his door, but to no avail, confirming her suspicions. Feeling brave, she decided to go for a walk on her own, they'd been out in the city so many times, she felt confident she wouldn't get lost there. And so, she did. The streets were almost completely empty, but that was oddly calming to her. That night's venue was much more packed than the previous two, so it was a nice contrast to walk along these long empty streets, just her, the lamps and the soothing sound of crickets. Or at least that was the case until she drew nearer to the town plaza. Sounds of people and of music increased as she approached, eventually revealing a late-night carnival fair. Curious, she decided to check out what the fuss was all about.

There were acts of the most varied kinds, from strongmen to fire gobblers, slides, carrousels and beautiful demonstrations of colourful electric lights. She enjoyed just looking at all the people around her having fun with those shows and attractions, so she mostly didn't stick around any single show for too much time, instead preferring to explore bit by bit the entire fair. As a result of moving around so much, she ended her visit with a plethora of pamphlets, all handed to her by kids too adorable to refuse from.

When she was on her way out of the fair, she received a different kind of pamphlet though. She was smitten with the unusual nature on the brochure: From what she understood, in its first page there was an advertisement for a play to be performed within a few months from that day: "The fearless broken hearts", to be performed in New York… which was strange enough, but what stood out the most about it was the fact that it unfolded into a big poster of a broken heart with a single tear coming out of its right eye, as it was missing a piece in its upper left corner, where its other eye would have been in. Upon making her way back to the hotel and further examining that poster, she noticed that intricate seal from her theater company, as well as the immaculate detail put into that simple heart shape, it was as if it had been hand painted there. "These advertisements are getting more elaborate with each day… Imagine how long the artist took to paint that into every flyer" She thought, still enamored with it. After some time contemplating the painting, she folded it back and stored it in her bag, it was the only flyer worth keeping from that day.

On the morrow she had to be ready for the first of her four presentations on that city, so she forced herself to try to sleep. It was the part of the day she dreaded the most, as her nightmares, while not as bad, remained a constant throughout the months she had already spent on that country. Sometimes she would wake up in the middle of the night with a scream, but no one to hear or comfort her in that hotel room. Nonetheless, she ended up falling asleep and, much to her surprise, she had a pleasant dream, a familiar one.

Once again, she was in that windswept field, dancing as careless as could be, while that masked figure watched over. This time he was wearing a rather unusual mask though: it was the broken heart she'd seen in the poster that same day. That caught her by surprise, seen as the hole it bore revealed the disfigurement of his face while concealing the other half of it. None of it bothered her for a second though, she was just happy to meet him once again even if on a dream. She woke up with a smile this time, feeling better than she'd felt in a long time, even though she was late for the pre-show rehearsals. She got out of bed with a jump, which she immediately regretted doing after it caused her a back pain, a reminder that she wasn't so young anymore. Fighting her pains, she rushed to get dressed and went down to the hotel's cantina for some breakfast, where she met Gus.

-Gus, dear, do you know anything about a play called "The fearless broken hearts" or something of the sort? – She asked him.

-Fearless… Why, that's the final opera of your tour, Christine. The one in New York?

-Oh… I see. I've never heard of that one.

-Yes, that's an original by one of the company's composers… It was in your contract though.

-I really should have given that contract a better read shouldn't I – She laughed -First I've heard of it was from a pamphlet I got yesterday at the fair.

-The Fair? You went out without me yesterday?

-You were already sleeping my boy, besides, nothing happened to me now did it?

-Still, you could have woken me up or… Wait… - He said with a puzzled look in his face.

-Can't really wait much longer Gus, I'm already late for rehearsals today…

-Yes but… you said you got it at the fair? Who gave it to you?

-A kid, not much unlike any other of the kids handing leaflets there. – That seemed to take a bit of the tension away from his expression.

-That doesn't make sense though, why'd they advertise here an opera that's scheduled for New York? Besides, the art for it hasn't been finished yet. – Said Gus.

-I didn't know you were involved with the production of the art.

-I'm not… But I happen to know a few things about that play.

-Well, it looked finished enough for me. A stunning pamphlet if I'd say so myself.

-May I see it? – The boy said with a start.

-I'll show you when I get back Gus, I really need to go now…

-Please Lady Christine, what's two more minutes to someone who is already late? I insist you let me see that pamphlet. – The boy said, as cordially as he could, but visibly holding back his anxiety to see that thing.

Christine couldn't say no to him, and led him into her room, where she showed the pamphlet in all its glory. The boy looked at it with a glazed look in his eyes.

-I really wonder how the company painted such intricate artwork in so many pamphlets… - Said Christine.

-They didn't. This is an earlier design of it, which wasn't supposed to be printed out because of its complexity and… size – He said as if he'd realized something.

-Then why did they hand these over at the fair?

-It's what I'm going to find out. I'm going to have to take the pam… Actually, it may be best you kept it. I need to go now.

-Wait, where are you going?

-I need to… to sort his out, we can't have outdated pamphlets going around, can we?

-I suppose not...

-Okay, I'll be seeing you later then, good luck at the show today, Lady Christine. – He said before leaving her room and the hotel, as well as leaving a lot of confusion in Christine's mind.

That was an unusual pamphlet, no doubt. The more she looked at it, the more she felt drawn to its beauty and shape, "what a peculiar shape" she thought. But she simply couldn't dwell on it too much anymore, so she stored the pamphlet away at her bedside table's drawer and rushed into rehearsals. As much as the mystery of that artwork lingered in her thoughts, the joy she felt after having that dream prevailed, and her day had gotten back on track

Rehearsals went very smoothly despite her being late, and when time came for the show at night, she sang like she hadn't sung in years. Every word and every gesture were performed beautifully, with the whole weight of her joy behind her. At the end of the show, she was drowned in a sea of applause and cheering, the loudness of which was impressive considering it was once again such a humble venue and the house wasn't even full. She returned to her hotel room happier than she'd been when she left it by morning. As she laid down in her bed, her exhilaration started to give way to the mild back pains she was feeling since the morning and the image of that pamphlet came back to her thoughts. She retrieved it from her drawer and started further examining it. For some reason the pattern for the missing piece from the heart in that painting drew the most of her attention. There were crack marks in the upper and right parts of it, but the bottom was smooth. Somehow that pattern seemed familiar to her. After thinking about it for a while, a strange thought struck her. She rushed back to her bag, frantically looking for it, while memories from that day flooded her mind:

She could still smell the stench of whiskey in his breath when she left the house. "The only curse festering into our home is you, you delusional drunk" Is among the things she wanted to say to his face at that moment, but she simply felt it worthless to waste her words and tears in him any longer. That was the moment she felt her marriage was irreparable. Gone were any hopes of being the happy wife of the Vicomte de Chagny, as were her desires to keep her past concealed away from her sights. The same way she did all those years ago, she rode to the Paris opera house. This time, without any doubts in her mind, she took it for herself. The object which she went on to keep close to herself at almost all moments, to which she talked whenever she felt desolate, and whose aid she once again sought after.

She found it in a cushioned box which carefully stored it inside her bag. Bringing it near the poster confirmed her suspicions and sent shivers down her whole body: It was a perfect fit for the cracks depicted in the poster. In utter shock, her only reaction was to scream. A scream of fear, of happiness, of excitement, of shock. A scream so loud it alerted Gus, who came rushing into her room not long after.

-Christine! – He shouted. – What happened? What is that?

"Oh no" She thought. "He saw the mask".