Chrissy's plan had no flaws whatsoever that day. She had left the note for her father at the top of the stairs, as if it had slipped under the door. She had gone back to her room when she had returned. When she had left her room in the afternoon to sneak out again, she saw the ripped envelope and opened letter on the coffee table by the fire place. She ran out to the laybrinth. It would probably be eaiser just to stay out of her father's way until that evening.
Chrissy wondered among the laybrinth for a while. She grew bored after an hour and went up to the stables. Normally, she wouldn't go up to the stables during the day, but for some reason, she felt an urge to go up at this time. She had no idea why.
She loved to visit the horses. They were kind, gentle creatures that were always pleased for her company. This time of day, however, no living creature was in the barn. She sat down by the wall. She always loved the smell of horses. The laybrinth was always cold and no smells but that of ice and embers were found around her. Horse smell was so unique to her.
As she was resting among the hay and concrete, her hand rested among a small pile of hay. Hay that had gone astray on the floor and sweeped into that particular corner over the years. She felt the hay between her fingers. Then, a strange, paper-like material was found among the hay.
Curious, Chrissy pulled her finding out of the pile. It was a yellowish envelope with a wax seal the said NYC Opera on it. It must have been an old letter that the stable men never opened. Interested, she opened it and read something that made her stomach almost fall out.
Dear Mother, Father, and those I know,
I hate to have to put my friends and loved ones through this but today I have found no reason to live. Tonight, after the stables are quiet and no one else is awake through the opera house, I will hang myself in the barn. Today, I have found no reason to live. I am truely sorry. One cannot be expected to live her life this way, in pain and agony. Some may be strong enough to live a life like that, but I am certainly not. I'm sorry and I love all of you. I'm sure you'll be able to get along without me.
Love,
Aniette Andre-Firmin
As Chrissy finished the letter, she was white as snow. So Aniette Firmin had not been murdered as the rats and the people of the the opera had thought. She had commited suicide. But why? What could this happy little rich girl be going through that made her so unhappy? If anyone knew pain and suffering, it was certainly Chrissy. Yet certainly throug her life she had been semi-happy. Every since she met Marc, she had been-
And then it hit her. The reason why either girl acted so jealous and hostile to each other. The look she gave Marc all the time. She knew that look only two well. Marc had that same look in his eyes when he looked at Chrissy. Aniette must have been in love with Marc as well as her.
"Oh, Aniette," Chrissy said, starting to cry, "I'm so sorry. I understand that must have been painful for you. If I had known...well, I don't know what would have happened but...oh Aniette, I just feel so terrible."
Her tears ran down onto the ink of the paper again. She pocketed the letter quickly. Perhaps she would get a chance to give this to the Firmins someday. It might give them closure.
Suddenly, she heard the sound the the barn door being opened from the outside. Chrissy stood up and rushed from the barn.
Marc went over to where the performers were practicing the new opera "La Morte del Mio Amore". Christine was playing the part of Rose, a rich girl who in the end commits suicide because the one she loves is tortured to death during some war. As she stepped off stage for the ballerinas to practice their dance, Marc rushed over to meet with her.
"Hello, Mother," he said, coming over to her.
"Marc, dear," she said, kissing his cheek.
"The opera was certainly finished quickly. When will it be ready?" he asked.
"Not for another week. I still need to learn the rest of my songs. I only know two." she said, "Is there something you need, my dear?"
"Well," he said, "Mother...I went looking for the Firmins and...well, I found this."
He handed the note to Christine. She turned very white once again.
"What does he want now?" she asked.
"Who is it from, Mother?" Marc asked, trying his best to sound convincing.
"Just an old friend," she said, "You go along now, my son, it's nothing for you to worry about."
"How you are wrong, my dear mother," Marc said.
"What was that?" his mother asked.
"I said I won't be long, my dear mother," Marc said, kissing her on the cheek again as he left.
Chrissy was already waiting for him on the roof top when Marc arrived. The ran into each other's arms as they saw each other.
"Did everything go alright, Marc?" she asked as he held her.
"Yes," he said, "and you?"
"Perfect!" she said.
They stayed on the roof top for a while, knowing that they had a little while before they needed to get down to the laybrinth.
"Chrissy," Marc said, "I can't wait any longer. Tomorrow, we marry."
"What?" Chrissy exclaimed, "But...how?"
"It's simple!" he said, "Tonight we're telling your father and my mother, right? Tomorrow morning, we tell my father and in the late evening, we'll go to the cathedrial and have one of the priests there marry us."
"Marc, are you sure?" she asked.
"I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life!" he said, "Please, Chrissy, say that you will be my bride? Will you become my wife tomorrow?"
"Of course I will!" she cried. Marc kissed her again. He lifted her and swung her around. Everything was perfect.
As they let go, they heard the bells of the clock. It was 9:30. The show would be over in half an hour.
"We need to get to the laybrinth," Chrissy said, her voice a bit nervous.
"Then lets go!" he said, taking her hand as they ran off.
After the show, Chrissy took a deep breath and, without even worrying about changing out of her costume, she made her way to the basement. She followed the instructions exactly and found the stone steps with the candle. Taking a deep breath, she began to descend.
Erik, at 10 o'clock, left the side of his piano. He went to knock on Chrissy's door, but thought better of it. "She'll come out in time," he said, "And then everything will be alright."
He left his home behind and made his way over to the river.
Christine was looking around nervously. She didn't have the slightest idea of where Erik was planning to meet her. Until finally, he was upon her.
"Erik," she said.
"Christine," he said, a look of gratitude upon his face.
They were both silent. Neither one knowing what the other wanted.
"I'm so glad you asked me to meet you here, my dear," he said.
"Asked me to meet you here?" Christine asked, "What are you talking about."
"The note!" he said, "The note you slipped under my door this morning asking me to meet you here in the laybrinth."
"No, no," Christine said, "My son told me he found a note for me in the Firmin office which said you wanted to meet with me in the laybrinth or disaster would occur."
"I never wrote such a note!" he said.
"No," a voice from the shadows said, "But I know who did,"
Christine and Erik turned in the direction of the voice. Stepping into the candle light, a person appeared.
"You!" Erik cried.
"Marc!" Christine exclaimed in shock.
Erik looked at her in surprise, "You know this man!"
"Of course I know him!" Christine said, "This is my son, Marc Viscount de Chagny. How do you know him?"
"He's been galivanting with my daughter ever since he came to this opera house!" Erik cried, stepping toward him. Marc stood his ground.
"No he can't be!" Christine cried, "There must be some mistake! Marc is engaged to a lovely young girl we just met last evening."
"So!" Erik screamed, "My daughter is just your little whore, is that it!"
"No!" Marc cried, "If you'll just listen to me, M. Erik, Mother dear, I shall introduce you to both my fiancee and the Phantess of the Opera."
Marc turned around. Christine and Erik both saw something move among the shadows. They tried to look to see who it is.
"Come out, darling," Marc said, offering his hand. "It's alright, Chrissy, I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you."
Out of the shadows, into the candle, crept a small, pale hand which took hold of Marc's. Slowly, the little girl moved into the light where Erik and Christine could both see her at last.
"Mother, this is Chrissy." he said, "She's my fiancee and she's also Erik's daughter."
Christine turned to Erik, "This is her?" she asked.
"Yes," he said.
"Daddy," she said, "This is my fiance, Marc and the Viscountess's son."
Erik was silent. He stared down at Marc's face.
"No," he said, "You are not going to marry him."
"Yes I am!" she said. Erik was shocked. "He loves me very much, don't you Marc?"
"More than anything," Marc said, taking her other hand, "And we wanted to tell the both of you together. We thought it would be eaiser...on you two."
"Why not your father?" Christine asked.
"We plan on telling him tomorrow morning." Marc said, "We...we want to get married tomorrow night."
Chrissy turned to her father again.
"Daddy, please believe me," he said, "He would never hurt me! Ever!"
Erik was silent, looking at Chrissy, then Marc, then back to Chrissy. Finally he nodded.
Chrissy screamed with joy. She ran over and embraced her father. He held her back, knowing in his heart that it was the last time he would ever hold his little girl. Sure he would see her again, but she would be a married woman then. But she would be happy. They soon let go. Chrissy ran over and threw her arms around Marc's neck. Her swung her around again before they kissed. Christine wiped away a tear of joy before she spoke again.
"But I have been wondering something," she said, "Why did you kill the Firmin's daughter."
"What?" Erik asked. "I didn't kill the Firmin's daughter."
Chrissy finally thought of something. Reaching into her pocket, she extracted the yellow paper she had found in the barn.
"Mme. Viscount," she said, "I...I found this. Today in the stables."
Christine took the note from Chrissy and read it over. She was crying heavily as she finished.
"She commited suicide!" she cried, "But why?"
"Because she was in love with Marc." Chrissy said.
"Oh my gosh!" Marc said.
"What is it, dear?" Chrissy asked.
"I...I spoke to Aniette that day." he said, "She...she told me that...she loved me. That I should be with her and...and not you."
"Well, that certainly explains it." Christine said.
"Having a little get together, are we?" someone said from behind. Everyone spun around to find Raoul.
"Raoul, darling," she exclaimed.
"You thought you were sly, didn't you!" Raoul screamed, standing next to Christine and taking her hand. "You'd lure my son and wife down here and try to do away with them or kidnap them. Well, you won't be getting away with it this time!"
"Raoul!" Christine cried.
"Father, no! You don't understand!" Marc cried.
"I understand perfectly!" he said. "Well, I'm not giving you a chance to even try any of your tricks!"
Without saying another word, Raoul extracted a pistol. He aimed it at Erik and began to pull back the trigger.
"Raoul, no!" Christine said, pushing the gun out of the way. But as she did, Raoul fired.
A blast of gun powder, a flash of light, and the laybrinth was silent. Erik stood before the Viscounts, perfectly fine. There was a gasp of pain as the four turned to look.
Chrissy was clutching the middle of her stomach. Blood was flowing out onto her white and green dress and over her hands. Her skin was turning even paler.
"No!" Marc cried, rushing over to her as she began to fall.
Marc held her and brought her gently to the floor. He rested one hand behind her head while the other over her blood-stained hands. The flow was uncontrolable.
"Chrissy," he said, trying not to panic, "Chrissy, you're going to be ok,"
Chrissy began to shed tears from the pain. Her mouth was starting to fill with her blood.
"Chrissy, sweetheart," Marc said, "What am I suppose to do? I can't live without you!"
But words had failed Chrissy. Beginning to choke, she looked at Marc with her beautiful deep brown eyes. After a few moments, the life that had sparkled in them was gone. She stared upward, her eyes soft and glossy.
Cradling her in his arms, holding her face close to his, Marc began to sob, loudly. He kissed her ice-cold forehead. His love, a girl who just a few minutes ago was so happy and full of life was now a bloody corpse in his arms.
What seemed like an eternity, Marc layed his dead bride upon the cold floor of the laybrinth. He stood up. His shirt and hands covered in Chrissy's blood.
"How could you do that to her?" Marc asked.
"Who was she?" Raoul asked.
"That was Chrissy!" Marc said, "She was Erik's daughter and you murdered her."
"I didn't mean to kill her, Marc," Raoul said.
"Only because you were trying to kill her father!" he screamed. "How could you do such a thing!"
Marc, standing there alone, began to sob. Raoul didn't dare go near him and Christine seemed almost afraid to.
Erik, however, stepped foreward and placed his hand on Marc's shoulder. Marc turned around to face him.
"Marc," Erik said, "I...I..."
Marc looked up into his face and, from the part that wasn't covered by mask, he could see a stream of tears on his face. Erik stepped over and embraced him.
By this time, Christine was sobbing on Raoul's shoulder. When Marc and Erik finally let go, he went over to his father and pulled the gun from his hands.
"You killed that poor, innocent little girl!" he screamed, pointing the pistol at his father.
"Marc, no!" Christine cried.
"Marc think about what you are doing!" Erik said, "This man is your father! You don't want him to die!" Erik looked right into Raoul's face. "None of us do."
"No," he said, "We don't. I don't."
And with those words, Marc raised the gun, put it to his temple, and pulled the trigger.
"No!" Christine cried as Marc's body fell to the floor next to Chrissy's.
Leaving her husband's side, she rushed next to Marc's body. But, it was too late, he had died before he hit the ground.
Sobbing, Christine knelt beside her son's and his fiancee's bodies. After a moment, Raoul bent down and helped her up. He was silently crying himself.
"Erik," Raoul said, "I'm-"
"Just go," Erik said, almost in a whisper. And with that, he turned around and made his way through the laybrinth."
Erik made it back to his home. Over the rushing of the river, he thought he could hear Chrissy's laughter. The ghost like sounds filled his ears. He walked into his home. It seemed so different now. He was alone again. Erik knew he couldn't stay here. He ran in and took his opera's, put out the fire, and left his home. He went back through the laybrinth.
He made his way to where Chrissy and Marc lay. He was planning to create a burial site for them both, but as he reached them, he found one thing. He felt almost proud as he looked upon it, but it was nothing compared to the sadness he felt. He only loved two women in his life. One them actually loved him back...and now she was gone. He bent down and picked up the only remains of his daughter. At least she had been lucky enough to find someone whom she loved and loved her back. Erik had been wrong about him. As he stood there, in the cold, dark catacombs, he wished he had had the chance to tell him that. Erik left the New York Opera House, never to return. Perhaps he would go back to Paris, or maybe he'd try London, or perhaps Madrid. He wasn't sure at the time. He knew now he would live out the rest of his life alone, with nothing but his operas and his daughter's mask.