Disclaimer: "The Phantom of the Opera" was written by Gaston Leroux. This
fan fiction story is based on the musical "The Phantom of the Opera" by
Andrew Lloyd Webber and the book "Phantom" by Susan Kay. I have no
permission to use the characters and I am making no money out of
Leroux/ALW/Kay's work. Rightly or wrongly, I decided to give Carlotta a
past and let the Prima Donna have centre stage. . Anything that appears
in '' is remembered dialogue by Carlotta. This is a short chapter. I am a
bit busy with exams at the moment.
+ Carlotta: The Story of Her Life +
After hours of arguing, Erik fell asleep. He rested in what I took to have been Christine's room. It was clear from the way he locked the door that he did not want me near him at least not for now. I could not blame him.
'Will you love me?'
'Erik… I cannot.'
That night, that fateful night, I ran out of the apartment onto the street and down to the nearest inn. Like my father, I had an overwhelming urge to forget my problems with the aide of a drink. It was the first time that alcohol passed my lips but not the last. At first, I hated the taste of the alcohol, I wanted to be sick, but I continued until… well, until closing time. Hours had passed but time no longer mattered. In my drunken stupor, I had managed to stagger home only to find it empty. At first, I thought that Erik had gone for a walk but he never came back. It was only in the morning, with crystal clarity, that I realise he had left for good - his possessions were gone.
My life did not change in his absence. I continued as though Erik had never been a part of it. Drink became his substitute and, like him, I kept it a secret from everyone. However, my vice left its mark on my voice. I no longer sing like an angel. It was still a good voice but not as sweet as once it had been. Through hard work and a little persuasion, the management decided to promote me. My day in the sun, so to speak, came and I gave the performance of a lifetime. The reviews were good. It was a start. My childhood dream of being a star was coming true. It replaced my thoughts of a husband and family. A husband… A family… Even though I feared commitment, I yearned for a normal life, a little child that would look up to me for guidance and love. As pathetic as it sounds, it was all I ever truly wanted. On reflection, I think that it was what Erik wanted too.
On my twenty-first birthday, I received a letter from Spain. My father had died. The funeral was different from what I had imagined. There were mourners everywhere. In an effort to make something of his life my father actually worked. He built up a little business and gained the respect of the town. I was proud of him but that ended the moment I met his widow, his heavily pregnant widow. They had been married seven years and produced two sons with a third child on the way. Apparently, the little woman knew nothing of my father's previous marriage. I came as quite a shock. My father, in truth, had not changed. He continued to deceive everyone including those he claimed to love most.
I did not stay. The atmosphere in my father's home was less than welcoming and my stepmother did not take kindly to my presence. Besides, I was certain she would recover from the loss of my father quickly. She was young, only five years older than I was, and could easily find another man to care for her perhaps even one closer to her own age. I had no interest in becoming friends with my brothers. The thought of my father and his perfect little life with his two sons and lovely wife made me angry. I no longer wished to be in any way connected with my father. The opera had offered me a new contract in which I would be the prima donna's understudy. It was the perfect opportunity for me to let go of my past and transform myself into a new person. I took the name of the one person in my life that had never hurt me as my father had – my mother. I became Carlotta Guidicelli.
+ Carlotta: The Story of Her Life +
After hours of arguing, Erik fell asleep. He rested in what I took to have been Christine's room. It was clear from the way he locked the door that he did not want me near him at least not for now. I could not blame him.
'Will you love me?'
'Erik… I cannot.'
That night, that fateful night, I ran out of the apartment onto the street and down to the nearest inn. Like my father, I had an overwhelming urge to forget my problems with the aide of a drink. It was the first time that alcohol passed my lips but not the last. At first, I hated the taste of the alcohol, I wanted to be sick, but I continued until… well, until closing time. Hours had passed but time no longer mattered. In my drunken stupor, I had managed to stagger home only to find it empty. At first, I thought that Erik had gone for a walk but he never came back. It was only in the morning, with crystal clarity, that I realise he had left for good - his possessions were gone.
My life did not change in his absence. I continued as though Erik had never been a part of it. Drink became his substitute and, like him, I kept it a secret from everyone. However, my vice left its mark on my voice. I no longer sing like an angel. It was still a good voice but not as sweet as once it had been. Through hard work and a little persuasion, the management decided to promote me. My day in the sun, so to speak, came and I gave the performance of a lifetime. The reviews were good. It was a start. My childhood dream of being a star was coming true. It replaced my thoughts of a husband and family. A husband… A family… Even though I feared commitment, I yearned for a normal life, a little child that would look up to me for guidance and love. As pathetic as it sounds, it was all I ever truly wanted. On reflection, I think that it was what Erik wanted too.
On my twenty-first birthday, I received a letter from Spain. My father had died. The funeral was different from what I had imagined. There were mourners everywhere. In an effort to make something of his life my father actually worked. He built up a little business and gained the respect of the town. I was proud of him but that ended the moment I met his widow, his heavily pregnant widow. They had been married seven years and produced two sons with a third child on the way. Apparently, the little woman knew nothing of my father's previous marriage. I came as quite a shock. My father, in truth, had not changed. He continued to deceive everyone including those he claimed to love most.
I did not stay. The atmosphere in my father's home was less than welcoming and my stepmother did not take kindly to my presence. Besides, I was certain she would recover from the loss of my father quickly. She was young, only five years older than I was, and could easily find another man to care for her perhaps even one closer to her own age. I had no interest in becoming friends with my brothers. The thought of my father and his perfect little life with his two sons and lovely wife made me angry. I no longer wished to be in any way connected with my father. The opera had offered me a new contract in which I would be the prima donna's understudy. It was the perfect opportunity for me to let go of my past and transform myself into a new person. I took the name of the one person in my life that had never hurt me as my father had – my mother. I became Carlotta Guidicelli.