I usually hate stories with short chapters, but this is how it's going so this is how it's gonna be! I imagine they will become longer as we get a little deeper into the story.
One reviewer pointed out that the movie messed up the order of events as they coincide with the play and asked how I plan to correct that. Well, like I said in chapter one, I've been a Phantom fan for a while...definately prior to the movie. I still think, however, that the movie was beautifully done, especially as far as casting is concerned. I think I'm just going to continue on this path, drawing inspiration from all of the story's forms. We'll see what happens.
Sorry for the long speech...on we go:)
His mouth was impossibly close to hers.
She could feel his ragged breath on her cheeks, his question hanging over their heads.
"That night," Christine began, her voice a gasping whisper, "that night impacted me in ways you'll never understand."
Erik scoffed, looking down at her menacingly. "Really," he drawled in his lilting accent. "Tell me, Christine. How did it affect you? How long did it force you to wait before you lay naked beside that boy?"
Christine winced under his harsh words. "Stop it, Erik," she whispered.
"No, no, my dear," he spat the endearment. "Let's hear how terrible it has been for you…let's hear how unfortunate the subsequent years have been for you!"
He moved away suddenly, the pressure of his body gone, causing Christine to fall to her knees once more, sobbing.
"You know nothing of me," Christine rasped. "You don't know the about the nights filled with oceans of my tears…of my pain…"
Erik turned, furious. "Don't dare speak to me of pain!"
Christine raised her voice to match his. "You weren't the only one left in the darkness that night!" She shrieked.
Erik remained silent.
Christine lowered her head, unable to suppress the sobs racking her small frame.
He walked over to her slowly, closing his eyes as he stood above her.
After a moment, he sank to his knees, encircling the small woman within his arms.
Christine sank into the embrace. She inhaled his scent deeply, her sobs intensifying once more.
Despite himself, Erik smoothed her hair, stroking calmly.
"I thought you were dead…I thought I had lost you…" Christine was repeating mindlessly.
"My angel…my love…" Erik responded, loving her.
Regardless of sanity.
Regardless of where they were coming from.
Regardless of where they would end up.
Seeing her again, feeling her in his arms…it had been a balm to his open wounds.
But those wounds were far from healed…and the chanting, taunting voice in his head was ripping the loose stitching open once more.
She left you.
He moved away, leaving her cold once more.
She looked up at him, his tall, muscular frame outlined against the soft night sky's lighting.
"Who is in the grave, Erik?" She asked quietly. He looked down at her but did not respond.
"How did you escape that night?" She asked again, rising to her feet.
He remained silent.
"How is it that you are here, now, standing before me?"
"Why should I answer these questions!" He roared in an explosion of his deep voice. Christine bit her lip. "Am I to believe you care for me now, Christine? It's too late! You made your choice!"
"You sent me away with him, Erik! Have you forgotten?" Christine shouted back, surprised at the passion in her voice, which had been dead for so long.
He moved close to her suddenly. She shrunk back, afraid of being struck.
When he realized she thought he meant to hit her, he stopped in his tracks.
"You always had a choice," he spat. "And the choice has been made…and now you must live with it."
Christine's eyes fell in sorrow, his words crushing her more fiercely than any physical blow.
He glared down at her, at the top of her shining curls. Her shoulders were shaking with silent sobs.
His heart screamed for him to embrace her once more, to soothe her hurt, to kiss away the pain his words had inflicted.
But as his heart won before, the voice won out now.
SHE LEFT YOU. SHE WILL LEAVE YOU ONCE MORE. YOU ARE ALONE.
He turned on his heel, leaving a sobbing Christine alone in the moonlight.
Raoul's blood felt as if it was about to escape through every pore in his body.
That monster…that thing had touched her. Had held her in his arms.
And she had allowed it! She had permitted his hands on her body!
Her body that was supposed to have been mine! Raoul thought, his hands clenching into fists.
From his vantage point, just behind a large statue of a twisted Greek God in the throws of death, he had seen everything. Heard everything.
She was weeping for the masked man she had called Erik.
How many tears have you wept for ME, Christine? How many have I wept for YOU?
Raoul's mind was racing, pounding under the roar of blood in his veins.
He watched as Christine moved slowly to the roof exit, still sobbing quietly.
Raoul's mouth twisted into a thin line of frustration and anger.
It seemed the Opera Ghost had returned.
And he was actually no more then a man.
A man…flesh and blood…
Raoul smiled, an evil, twisted expression on a once docile, kind face.
Flesh and blood could easily be destroyed.