A/N: Greetings everyone! I'm so sorry…I haven't updated anything in a really long time. I know a few people will be disappointed that it's this story that's being updated and not one of the others, so I apologise. But this is the one that is finished and I want it to be done. Yes, this is the last chapter.
First I shall thank my glorious reviewers who are kind and awesome:
Midasgirl: Thank you for your compliments, you always make me feel great. But, I don't know if you'll even read this chapter. I'm sure if you see this you'll be furious at me about Angel of Music… I'm sorry! And…Erik and Christine are not all fluffy together here, please don't hate me!
Chantal: Yes, sinister Erik is rather attractive in his own way, ain't he? Thanks for reading!
Deirdre: Yes! Bag of life and death! Snaps for you! Thank you for your compliment…I really appreciate it. And I do think you'll enjoy this chapter…
LadyWillow: Thank you for your kind words. But no. They will not kiss. Sorry, check out another story of mine if you want them kissing, hehe
Lady Death: I am honoured to receive a review from you…seriously, you are one of the people on this website who I really respect and I love your work…so naturally I am thrilled that you are enjoying my story! Yes, The Collector is a rather dangerous book to use…Hope I'm not in TOO much trouble over it! Thank you so much for reading.
Erikorlando'sgirl: If that means you liked it…then thank you.
Olethros: Thanks, Julie, you're too nice to me. I'm glad you enjoy this though! Really….good use of the word delicious, haha
Angelic Lawyer: I'm really glad you liked reading this. I always look forward to reading your reviews, they're always well thought out and such. So…gracias? I can't say thank you in Portugese! I'm sorry, I'll try to learn, hehe.
Musicallover: Thanks for reading my story, miss. I hope you like this chapter, heheh.
PenelopeBlack13: Thank you for your kind words! I really appreciated your review.
And THERE, I have thanked everyone!! You guys rock my socks.
This author's note is getting really long, but I must continue…. This chapter…is not pleasant E/Cness. This chapter is also NOT meant to offend anyway. I felt like writing something darker and something different. I enjoy fluffy Erik a lot of the time too. But right now, I was experimenting with a serious Erik.
Remember I said this was a weird take on the story? Yes, well, it's about to get weirder. This is a darker story. They won't make up and live happily ever after. Check out my other stuff if you want something lighter. This was all written on a whim.
I hope that some of you enjoy. And to everyone who makes it to the end, thank you!!
Christine did not retire for a long time that night. She took to pacing about her room from the door to the bed, to the wardrobe, to the vanity, to the door, and so on. She felt it miraculous that she was still alive. She had been so certain, the moment she had heard Erik speak behind her, that there was no hope for her, that she would never escape his temper. But no, she was all right, had escaped untouched. She counted herself lucky.
Or perhaps not so lucky… Her situation had not improved in the least. But if he allowed her outside…. She would have to escape. She needed a plan.
For a long time Christine thought, throwing wild ideas around her head, none of which would work. She sighed and finally stopped pacing, sinking into the chair in front of her vanity.
It was hopeless, she decided. She had come up with no ingenious plan. She could simply run or she could throw herself on the mercy of any person they might happen to pass. But those could hardly be called plans. They certainly weren't ingenious and could so easily be thwarted.
Christine crossed her arms and rested them on the vanity top, letting her head fall into them. Her elbow was on something hard, however, which was very uncomfortable. She sat up to move it away, but then she noticed exactly what it was….
A large paper-knife lay on the smooth, wooden surface. Christine had been using it to mark her place in a book she had just finished. Trembling, she touched it carefully, but quickly drew her hand back.
The thought that had run through her head when she had touched the knife disgusted her to the very core of her soul. How could she even dream of using it as a weapon? Actually harm another person? No, she could never….
Christine picked up the knife. Slowly, she ran her fingertips along the edge, stopping at the point. It wasn't very sharp at all of course and, even though the thought was absolutely repulsive, she wondered how sharp it would have to be…
No! She dropped the knife abruptly and stood up, knocking the chair over. She couldn't think such thoughts. No!
But the idea was in her head now and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get rid of it. It could help her escape…She could be free…
Free….
The thought was so tempting. Christine picked up the knife again. Holding it in her hand, she became terribly afraid. Could she really do it? She did have a just cause after all…
Christine wanted to cry. This horrible underground place had utterly destroyed the person she had been. The girl who had sung in the chorus at the Opera Garnier would never have thought of such a horrible thing.
But not even the person she had become could consider actually taking someone's life. No, she couldn't. But if he were just slightly injured, if she could surprise him enough… She might get away.
Christine shut her eyes tightly. The idea was horrible, but it could be her only hope.
Very quickly, she thrust the knife into a drawer of the vanity, deciding not to think about it anymore. But when she climbed into bed, she found she could think of nothing else.
Christine woke late the next day and dressed very slowly, not eager to leave her room and face Erik. Perhaps yesterday had been some sort of trick and now she would receive the punishment she had escaped? The thought made her tremble. What would he do?
She soon knew the answer. Finally summoning enough courage to leave the room, she went to the door and reached for the knob.
It wouldn't turn. The door wouldn't open. She was locked in.
Christine's mind did not accept this for several minutes which she spent struggling with the doorknob, listening to the horrible sound it made as it jiggled and refused to turn.
Finally realising what was happening, Christine panicked. Pounding her small fists on the door, she shouted, "Erik, no!"
But there was no answer. She brought her fists on the door a few more times before she stopped. Her heat pounded painfully in her chest. She was locked in. Erik had locked her in! Oh it was bad enough to be trapped in this house, but now to be confined to this room…No!
"Erik, please," she whimpered, more to herself than to him as she stared helplessly at the door.
Suddenly she froze, her body going cold, as she heard Erik's voice behind her. "Christine."
Before she could turn around the lights went out and the room was plunged into total darkness. The gas had been shut off.
Christine screamed and began pounding the door fiercely, as if somehow that would open it. The blackness in the room was absolute and utterly terrifying. She had heard Erik's voice behind her…Could he really be in the room with her? Would the lights ever be turned back on?
Christine ceased to think rationally as fear seized her. She kicked at the door with all of her might shouting, "Anyone, please! Help me! Open the door!
Of course, no one could hear her, but Christine did not consider that. She needed the door open.
Though she could see nothing, everything seemed to be moving. The blackness stirred to her left, then behind her, as if it were Erik moving about. She expected to feel his icy fingers wrapped around her throat at any moment.
She soon exhausted herself with the door and sank to the floor sobbing. The darkness truly seemed tangible now, the way it closed in on her until the room seemed only two feet wide.
Too tired to cry any longer, she curled into a ball and fell silent, hardly daring to breathe. The light was not coming back… Erik planned to let her die in this horrifying darkness! Unless he finished her off himself… That was to be her punishment.
At least that's what Christine thought until the door opened and light from the sitting room spilled into hers. Erik stood in the doorway, his silhouette frightening to behold. He had never been inside her room. Or had he?
"Stand up, Christine," he said, quietly as she sat blinking up at him, confused by the sudden bright light.
She obeyed him, finding that her legs were reluctant to support her.
"Do not defy me again, Christine," Erik said calmly, as if he were guilty of nothing. He held out his hand and said, "Now come sing for me and we shall go out tonight."
Christine took his hand, those words and her hatred of him ringing in her ears. She thought of the knife in the drawer.
Raoul de Chagny was walking rather aimlessly that night. He was hunched over, his gloved hands deep in the pockets of his overcoat, trying to stay warm. He had quarreled with his brother, Phillipe, the Comte de Chagny, and had opted for a walk to clear his head.
His brother had grown tired of Raoul moping around the house and refusing to go out. He had been like that since the disappearance of Christine Daae from the Opera.
At first, Raoul had dedicated himself to the search to find her along with the Surete and everyone who cared about her. However, their efforts had been futile; the girl was still missing and hope of her being found was fading. She had simply vanished without a trace.
The singers and dancers of the Opera were spooked, the managers were in despair without their newest diva who had been so popular with the patrons, and Raoul…he had been determined to tell her he loved her. Perhaps the only person undisturbed by her disappearance was La Carlotta.
Raoul kicked at a small stone in his path and watched as it rolled into the street. He was tired, feeling no energy to be walking around in such cold so late at night. But the air was effectively cooling his temper and he would soon be able to return home without harsh words to his brother.
The young vicomte sighed deeply. He was utterly distraught that no word of Christine had been heard. It had been two weeks now, and nothing! But there was nothing more he could do, and he was beginning to feel that the policemen he had been following about the opera and elsewhere were becoming irritated by his presence. Raoul was one of the reasons the search still continued. His title held enough power to force the police to not give up. He wouldn't give up… He couldn't! The last time he had seen Christine he had been fourteen years old. A boy! Boys of that age don't know what to do about love. Now Raoul was sure he did and he was sure he loved Christine still! He knew when he heard her sing.
Raoul had been walking in a very quiet neighbourhood, with many large homes where everyone had already retired or were perhaps gathered around fireplaces, safely away from the cold night. As far as he could see, he was the only person out. His footsteps echoed against the buildings with every step he took.
Because it was so silent, he was disturbed when he heard the clatter of horses pulling a carriage coming from behind him. He turned around, seeing the horse's breath, but just barely making out the black shape of the carriage. It was still far away, but approaching at a constant speed. He wondered what sort of people went out riding in broughams at such an hour and on such a cold night.
Raoul had turned back around and continued walking, but listened carefully to the sounds of the brougham as it got closer and closer. When it was just a few metres behind him he stopped and looked. His heart nearly stopped at the sight he saw.
Moonlight struck her pale features, making her face glow in the cold air. Pieces of her golden hair had escaped from under a fur lined hood and danced in the breeze. She looked like an angel, so divine she appeared as she gazed joyfully and longingly up at the stars.
Raoul couldn't move as the carriage went past. He simply stared at her, with his mouth hanging open in shock. Christine was riding in that carriage.
Then she saw him too. Her eyes widened and she stared at him with a mixture of joy and a strange, deep rooted fear. It seemed to him she was about to cry out when he heard a man's voice. Christine disappeared from the window and the curtains were pulled shut. The mysterious brougham continued on its way.
The vicomte stared after it for several more seconds, then took off running for his home. When he arrived he immediately sent his footman to summon the police.
Christine's eyes itched as her tears froze on her eyelashes, but she didn't dare lift her hand to brush them away. She didn't dare move at all. Her hands clutched together tightly inside her muff, where the paper knife had also been tucked away. Christine was terrified. She had seen the sky, she had seen Raoul…now she would pay unless she did something!
Erik was silent and she didn't look at him. Just feeling him beside her was frightening. She could feel his anger… It was horrifying. She wanted more than anything to be away, to leap from the carriage… No…she'd never be fast enough. She wrapped a hand around the handle of the knife.
It's not sharp enough, she thought, over and over. It's not sharp enough!
It was a simple paper knife, it was stupid of her to ever think she could escape using it as a weapon. Her eyesight blurred as more tears gathered in her eyes. Erik had shut the curtains, she couldn't even look at the sky anymore.
The brougham stopped after an indeterminable amount of time. Christine didn't move. She remained completely still, her hand still gripping the paper knife. Erik had opened the door and stepped out, assumedly paying the driver. He returned after a moment and held out his hand to help Christine from the carriage. He was completely calm, there was no way to read any emotion he might have been feeling. However, Christine knew this was the last time she would feel fresh air and see the night sky. She wished she could say goodbye to the sun as well.
"If you say anything while the driver is within earshot," Erik said, his tone chillingly calm and blank, "you may not live to regret it."
Christine showed no fear to this statement. She knew she would die if she couldn't escape now. That threat could not scare her now. She took Erik's hand.
She stepped down from the brougham and took a deep breath of the bitter cold air. Erik didn't release her hand and they both stood in silence, watching the brougham drive away. Neither of them moved until the horse hoof beats had faded away. Christine tightened her grip on the knife.
Erik moved then, pulling her firmly towards the gate. But this time she did not follow him obediently. Using all of the strength she possessed she wrenched her arm free from his grasp. She hesitated then, shocked that she had been able to free herself, but Erik obviously had not expected it.
Before he could react she had pulled out the knife and not knowing where to aim, thrust it as hard as she could toward his stomach. She felt it cut him. Terrified by this, she dropped the knife and began to run. For a few moments, Erik did not chase her, but then she heard his pounding footsteps behind her, matching the furious beating of her heart. He would catch her. She couldn't run faster than him. So she started to scream. She screamed as loud as she possibly could, a loud, shrill sound that filled the streets and echoed off of the buildings. She didn't stop screaming as she ran. He would catch her, any second he would catch her and drag her back underground unless someone heard her now.
And he did catch her. His arms encircled her torso, trapping her arms, and pulled her into his murderous embrace. That was when she realised that she shouldn't have dropped the knife.
Christine kicked and struggled against him as much as she could as he began to pull her back to the gate. She continued to scream and he made no attempt to silence her. Why didn't anyone hear her? Why wouldn't anyone save her? Surely someone could hear! But she was tired, from running, from struggling, her voice grew hoarse and she couldn't scream.
It was over. She fell limp in his arms then, quiet and trembling. He lifted her up then, carrying her towards the gate. She was exhausted and passive. This was her fate. She had tried… It was over.
The brougham that Raoul had seen that night was never found. The police resumed their investigation in earnest now that they had proof that Christine was still alive and in Paris. The street that Raoul had been on was searched and the occupants questioned.
It was Raoul who returned to the opera. Outside of a tall gate on the Rue Scribe side, he walked, looking around for anything, making a circle around the entire building.
It was there that he found the knife, streaked with dried blood. It was brought immediately to the police who searched the area for any more signs of a scuffle or any proof that it involved Christine.
Nothing was found. Weeks passed and more and more lost interest in the case. The opera company had moved on and few still mourned the loss of Christine Daae.
Raoul was devastated as the case was officially declared closed. He did not return to the opera. He chose instead to leave Paris and move back to the Changy estate in the countryside. Phillipe could not convince him otherwise.
He never forgot her.
Christine was locked securely in her room after that night and was never allowed out. There was no more music, only silence.
Days passed, though she hardly noticed. She felt as if the silence would drive her mad and she began to long for Erik's music so fiercely she didn't know what to do.
He came into her room with food for her, but she rarely touched any of it. She'd rather die than accept it from him now…
Everything had changed so drastically. She tried to think straight, but as time went on it became increasingly difficult. Her thoughts mixed together and she couldn't seem to remember what life was like before Erik, what she had done, who she had known. Even her memories of her father were beginning to fade as she remained, locked away underground, never to be seen again.
She felt herself growing weaker, she knew she was ill. Christine mused that if she could just hear Erik's music again, everything would be better. She would forgive him for all of this, maybe she could love him again. Maybe she would sing…
Sing…she had forgotten how to sing. Yes, she would need Erik to teach her.
Christine imagined all this, Erik coming to her with his violin and a smile, telling her to stand up and sing for him once more. She would, gladly. In her fantasy she loved him and everything was all right.
However, in reality, moments of which she experienced less and less of, she knew that she would die hating Erik for the horrible being he was.
One day, for some reason, she woke up feeling especially clear headed. She realised exactly what was happening to her and that Erik was doing it to her.
Christine realised she was losing her mind. That she would die insane…at Erik's hands.
No! She would not let Erik kill her this way. She would…she would….kill herself.
Her breathing increased as she thought about that. It was a sin that could not be forgiven, but…wouldn't death now be better than wasting away in the silent darkness? Who could tell how much longer she could live?
She would take her own life. Yes, that would show Erik that she was not as weak as he thought. That he could not hold onto his pretty prisoner as long as he hoped! No, she would die. She would die now.
How? There was nothing in her room… But…the walls… They were made of stone. Surely, surely one could not survive beating their head against a stone wall! No, she would die. She would be free. God would forgive her. He would set her free…
Christine raised herself slowly out of her bed, staring at the wall. She smiled, imagining that dying would be a most excellent adventure. Angels would come for her and lift her out of this dreadful place to the most spectacular world she would ever know.
She began to pray silently as she walked towards the wall. She prayed for God's forgiveness, she prayed for happiness. She prayed for freedom.
Kneeling down in front of the wall, Christine took a deep breath and raised her fingertips to touch the cold, hard stones.
She prayed for freedom.
Erik found her hours later, bleeding and unconscious, but alive. He lifted her to her bed and gently cleaned and bandaged the wounds she had caused.
When she woke up, he was beside her. She would have screamed if she had the energy, but all she could do was stare at him blankly. A feeling of dread crept up her spine. This wasn't heaven.
No…God had to forgive her! He wouldn't punish her with this for eternity! No! He wouldn't!
Unless…she hadn't died…
"Am I dead?" she managed to say, her throat dry and aching.
"No," Erik answered her simply.
Christine didn't know whether or not to be relieved. She suddenly became aware of the horrid pounding in her head.
She felt more ill than she ever had in her life. She felt that if she were not dead now, surely she would be soon… Very soon…
"Erik…" she croaked, each word painful. "Let me go."
Erik said nothing, but stood and left the room, leaving the door ajar.
Christine stayed where she was, she could not move her body. Her head hurt, she was ill… She would die soon.
Then, she heard it. Very softly at first, but slowly growing in volume. Erik was playing the organ.
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she listened to his music. It was gentle and comforting and was the most joyful noise she had ever heard. It was peaceful, lulling, bursting with absolute harmony and joy.
As the magnificent sound continued Christine forgave Erik. She forgave him for everything he had done. She did not hate him, no, not now… How could she hate him when he created such music just for her?
She forgave him and felt numb and peaceful in doing so. The music continued and she began to feel warm and happier than she could ever remember.
Her lips curled upward and she sighed, wrapped in a blanket of notes and sound.
Christine Daae died with a smile on her lips at the exact moment the music ceased.
FIN
A/N: That's the end of this story. Again, this was an exploration of a darker story for my own entertainment. Don't get offended. It's meant to be different and interesting for everybody.
Anyway, I'm sure many of you noticed that this story lacked an important element…and unmasking scene. Originally I had one planned for this chapter, but in order for the story to continue the way I wanted it to, there was just no room. I could not make it fit in. I'm sorry if that's a disappointment to anyone…
Also, since this is the last chapter, if anyone wishes to ask me a question about this or give a comment (positive or negative) that they want a response to PLEASE feel free to email me at I'm a nice person, really, don't be afraid. Yell at me for writing something so horrible, ask about why something happened or why something didn't…whatever you want.
And LASTLY, please, please Review if you've made it this far. I'd appreciate it so very much! So…yes! Review! Thanks!
Thanks so much for putting up with this story you guys. Hope your December is going well! Happy Holidays to everybody!