Meg did not remember.
She did not remember how she got from the Bois to the apartment she shared with her mother. She hardly recalled climbing the four flights of stairs to their door. Considering her aching feet, she definitely had not walked. She guessed she had hailed a carriage and traversed the city that way; a drunk and sobbing mess rolling through Paris. Meg only knew that she was now home and safely inside. She leaned heavily against the door as though she expected Erik to come racing in after her.
"I wish he would come after me." She blinked back tears and took measured breaths. She clutched at her trembling hands, willing them to stop. The room felt unsteady, hazy; or maybe it was her. Her heartbeat pulsed heavily in her ears.
"Why oh why did I drink so much?" Meg whimpered as she slipped off her boots. She sighed softly across the sitting room and tried to slip into her bedroom without waking her mother. Tossing her hand bag onto a chair and missing entirely, she shrugged and pulled carelessly at the pins holding her hair in place.
"Where have you been, ma cherie?"
Meg startled and whirled around. The hair pins scattered onto the dark floor. Her mother was reclined on her bed, the darkness casting deeper shadows in her illness ravaged face.
"I was at the theatre, maman." Meg lied, searching through the darkness for the hair pins. She picked a few up and setting them very deliberately on the dressing table, hoping they would not jump onto the floor again.
"It's nearly two in the morning, Marguerite." Madame Giry's voice was laden with suspicion.
"I know. I am sorry." Meg's tongue felt thick with the lie. She had had no idea what time it was.
"I have been worried sick, ma chere." At that soft endearment, Meg dissolved into tears and slid into the bed, next to her mother.
"You smell like a wine cellar. Did he hurt you?" Madame Giry wrapped her arms tight around her daughter, resting her chin on the top of Meg's head.
"Did who hurt me?" Meg answered innocently.
"Marguerite." her mother warned.
There was no point in further pretending that she had not been sneaking around with the Phantom of the Opera. Her mother was too sharp for that, even as ill as she was.
"Only my heart, maman." she whispered, beginning to cry.
"I feared this, Marguerite. I warned you."
Meg sobbed harder. "I know, I am sorry."
"Has it been long?"
"Since the opening night gala."
Madame Giry gave her a hard look and Meg braced herself for the storm that was sure to come. Instead, she kissed the top of her daughter's head and squeezed her tight. "Erik is not the man for you, darling." she dabbed at Meg's face with a handkerchief. "Even if one could forget that he is violent, he will never forget Christine. He will never love another."
"I do not want him to forget Christine. I would never ask that of him." Meg hiccupped. "He took me the Bois, maman. He made us a midnight picnic. It was so thoughtful."
"Yes, it was quite thoughtful to get you alone and drunk in the park." Madame Giry said dryly.
"He said he cared for me." she protested and sobbed again, burrowing into her mother's side to escape the pain. Madame Giry let her daughter cry, crooning softly to her in an effort to soothe the heartache. The tears eventually subsided and Madame Giry tipped Meg's face up, smoothing the hair from her face.
"You are a beautiful soul, ma chere. There is someone out there for you, someone deserving of your great heart."
Meg sniffled but said nothing, preferring to stare dully past her mother's gaunt face.
"No more tears, Marguerite. You have already shed more for him than he will ever deserve." Madame Giry slowly rose from the bed, turning to tuck the blanket over Meg. "It is time to rest."
"Good night, maman." Meg sniffled.
Her mother kissed Meg's forehead softly and patted down the blanket. "Sleep tight. Things will look brighter in the morning."
Meg watched her maman shuffle out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. Her heart ached so much that she felt nearly numb. Her neck still tingled where his lips had been; his hands had been like a branding iron, marking her for his own.
"Enough! No more." she whispered fiercely. Meg doubted things would look brighter in the morning, or ever again. She squeezed her eyes shut, banishing the memories of Erik and waited for sleep.