A Mystery

It had been two days. Two days of tormenting himself, two days of slowly killing himself. He had been in the middle of thinking of Christine, just to be sure that he still felt pain, when he heard a female voice in the distance. Singing. Of course, it was just his imagination, he said to himself. And yet, he could still hear the voice. It couldn't be her, could it? he asked himself. No, this voice was different. Where Christine had an innocent, soprano voice, this woman who was now singing had a rich alto voice. It was beautiful, more wonderful than anything he had heard in a long while. It was like a fallen angel's voice. This voice, however, was not filled with trusting innocence. Oh, no, this voice singing an all to familiar song was probably the most sorrowful voice of any he had heard, even more so than his own. It was also charged with an incredible amount of anger, pain, and loneliness.

The voice of this mystery woman beckoned to him. He had to see who this stranger was. When he reached his familiar box five, he hid in the shadows and looked upon the face that sung so beautifully, so sadly. The first thing that he noticed was that her skin was whiter than the moon. She wore a delicate black dress made of expensive materials and a richly embroidered black cloak. Her lustrous black hair was loosely curled and hung, untied, down her back. Her lips were crimson, brighter than the roses that he had given to Christine. Her pale grey eyes were framed by thick, long lashes. Her eyes held far more knowledge of the world than any normal twenty-two year old. They were the eyes of a person who experienced so much in such a short amount of time. She was tall, much taller than Christine had been, and not nearly as delicate. She carried herself with such power and grace, she reminded him of a panther. Yes, now that he thought of it, she was just like a panther- beautiful, graceful, powerful, and, most importantly, alone.

His musings suddenly came to a stop when the music did. He saw her stride out of the opera house and hail a cab. Unseen, he followed the cab as it took her to her house. The roads grew gradually narrower, and the houses that lined these roads became larger and more spread apart. He was entering the wealthy district of Paris. The cab jostled to a stop in front of an exceptionally lavish house. He saw the young woman get out of the cab and walk up the stone walkway to enter the stone mansion. Not knowing why, for he indeed did not have control of his feet, he followed her into the house. It was late, after all, and there were many shadows, so he wouldn't be seen. Still, what was it about her that intrigued him so much? He had never even followed Christine to her house, and yet he followed this complete stranger home. Still, some instinct told him to follow her. He could not stop.

She ascended the grand staircase and entered a large room through an ornately carved door. He found a small crack in the wall, just barely large enough for him to see her through. She was fumbling with something on her back, though what it was, he did not know. She was facing his direction, staring absently at a painting on the wall. She suddenly turned her back towards him, no doubt so that she could look into the mirror that was now in front of her. He saw what she had been doing. She had been untying her corset, and was now proceeding to take off her clothes to change for bed. About to turn away, he stopped when he noticed something wrong.

There was a scar on her neck. Her hair had covered it before, but now that it was off of her neck he could clearly see a painful scar. As more of her back was exposed, he saw more and more of these long welts. The scars had long since healed, but he was now filled with a righteous fury. Those scars were not an accident. Someone had whipped or beaten her. Realizing that he was staring at a now naked woman, he quickly averted his eyes and blushed furiously. A small gasp escaped his lips, barely audible. But in the silence of her house, she heard the gasp and spun around.

He instantly fled invisible in the shadows. He cursed himself, tried to torment and scold himself, but all that he could think of now was the pain she must have been caused. How could someone mar something so beautiful, so perfect? he asked himself silently. Wait! I don't even know this woman, much less love her! Why am I thinking about her problems when I have plenty of my own? he questioned himself. Those thoughts did no good, however, for the idea was now in his head and he could not get rid of it. This person was definitely worth wondering about.