His fingers pounded the keys of the organ again and again, playing the same frantic notes from "Don Juan" over and over. The notes seemed to collide with each other in the air, piercing the usually calm serenity of this place. The cavern was full of music, yet still he played own, his tumbling notes failing to block out what he had seen today.
My god, why had he gone there? Why did he have to see her? He knew all the while he was dressing, and all the time he was following the strange, intertwining sewer system to the vaults of the church that this was the wrong thing to do. For, if he saw her with him; walking towards him to become his wife…that that would be the last time that he would see her. That his lasting memory would be of her marrying and starting a new life, which did not include him.
He stopped playing, resting his head in his hands and cursing himself for having been so weak. He had watched the guests arrive; he had seen Madame Giry and Meg take their places next to Raoul. Then he had seen her, from his hiding place amongst the pillars he had seen her enter the church, and his heart had bleed for such beauty. Although he could not see her face under the veil, he could picture it before him; so emblazoned it was in his mind. She had whispered her vows but he had still heard her, her voice ripping pathways through his soul. Until that moment he hadn't believed that she would do it; until the priest pronounced them man and wife he had not believed that she could.
Through his tears he had struggled to watch Raoul kiss her, and yet he had heard the voices cheer. The veil was lifted and he saw her, his angel…no longer a child yet still so afraid. Unable to watch yet not able to turn away he watched as Raoul lead her away; take her away from the darkness she had known and into a new life with him.
And yet, he was sure that as they walked away Christine had looked back; her eyes searching for him. It was probably all in his mind and yet, he could have sworn Christine had looked at him, looked straight at him before continuing, arm and arm with Raoul, out of the church.
This was madness, he told himself, rising from the organ and grabbing his head in his rage. His mind flooded with images that he did not wish to see. Christine had a duty to perform this night. Right now Raoul had her in his arms, and his mind pushed on further to what he knew would happen next. It couldn't be avoided, he knew that it would be so, and yet he detested the very idea of it. The thought that he was kissing her; that he was touching her; the thought that his skin would be pressed against hers made him sick.
But worse still…what if she enjoyed it? What if she recognised her own lust, and sought to satisfy his? He could see it now, unable to do otherwise; her pleading, her moaning, her begging and imploring; her writhing with pleasure at his touch.
He screamed at the thoughts, rushing to the walls and scrapping his head along it to rid himself of such pictures. His tears stung his cheeks, as he thrashed backwards onto the bed, growling in agony…sobbing deep into the night.