Chapter 1: Escape
Christine came round groggily. Her eyelids flickered open but she swiftly shut them again with a small groan. The floor was bobbing beneath her. Someone was carrying her rather uncomfortably over his or her shoulder. There was a distinct smell of floor polish mingling with acrid smoke and the squeak of shoes on the smooth surface. The squeak echoed loudly. Christine realized that she hadn't a clue who was holding her. With a sharp jerk she rammed her foot into their chest. There was a loud curse and she was dropped unceremoniously onto a hard, tiled floor.
A quick glance around told her that she was in the main foyer of the theatre and her charming kidnapper was Raoul.
"What do you think you are doing?" She demanded angrily.
A leer appeared on Raoul's face, "You are coming with me."
"I think you are very much mistaken," she replied coolly, "I am not going anywhere with you Raoul."
"Oh yeah," he jeered putting a hand into his coat. There was a glint of silver and the blood drained from Christine's face. Her eyes widened in fear.
Raoul aimed the pistol steadily at her chest. "You are coming with me Christine."
Swallowing Christine began to walk slowly out with Raoul behind her, holding the gun so it was pressed between her shoulder blades. She could feel the icy slickness of the metal through the dress fabric and her heart pounded in fear.
He drove her towards his carriage then ordered her to get inside.
Christine crawled in and Raoul followed her.
"Why do you even want to marry me Raoul?" She exclaimed loudly after he'd closed the door. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"
"No chorus girl is going to jilt me Christine. Never."
She shivered violently.
Some time later they arrived at Raoul's house. Grabbing her wrist, Raoul dragged her upstairs and into one of the bedrooms. He left her in the room, locking the door behind him.
"I'm sure I can think of an excuse for your disappearance, at least until our wedding." He chuckled through the door then he was gone.
Christine sat down heavily on the bed. She was filled with utter despair. Fear at what awaited her bubbled up inside her and threatened to burst out in a fit of hysterics. She had to get away from Raoul, that much she knew. Her mind wandered miserably over the past few months. She'd thought he was so sweet. He'd appeared sweet to her, appeared in the same way he had been when they were children but that was the trouble. People changed as they grew up. He'd changed more than she could have imagined. She couldn't stay here with him. There was suspicion that her preference of Erik over him had upset an already delicately balanced sanity and insecurity. His childhood hadn't been that great after all and she'd heard rumors about a particular woman who'd broken his heart. Yes, she felt sorry for him but nevertheless she had to get back to Erik. Her eyes drifted to the window. Maybe she could…She opened them and looked down. A tree grew right up against the window and she realised with a jolt that she could reach it if she could step that far.
That night when the house was silent she opened the windows and began to climb down the tree, scratching her face and hands on the rough bark and sharp twigs. Nearing the bottom she had to jump and landed ungainly, stumbling over into the bushes.
Picking herself up she began to run as fast as she could to the opera house. The one thought in her mind was to find Erik.
Once there she went to her dressing room and looked for anything on her mirror that might open the door she knew was there. She was loath to break it, as that would announce the fact that there was a doorway. Feeling the frame carefully she found a small rise in the decoration and pressed it. The mirror clicked and a gap appeared. Christine opened it then tried to close it behind her. The latches were stiff and after much struggling she had to leave it slightly open.
Making her way down the passages she shivered in the darkness. Eventually reaching the platform she found the boat but no pole. Well that was useless. She slid into the water; it went up to her waist. It was freezing. Gasping she waded through to where she thought the lair lay. She sighed in relief as she spotted the portcullis, a feeling that swiftly sank as she saw it was down. No, No, No! There had to be a way in. She glanced into the water desperately. Wait! There. Was it her imagination? She knelt so that the water was up to her chin and groped around in the dark water. Yes, there was a gap underneath. It wasn't down fully. Taking a deep breath Christine submerged and dived underneath. At one point she felt a sharp pain in her leg but kept going. She surfaced and took a lungful of air. She struggled out the freezing water and checked herself over. Her dress was plastered to her body and her hair was already curling into ringlets and starting to frizz like it always did when it got wet. She found the source of her pain. One of the sharp points of the portcullis had caught her. Ripping her dress up the leg and opening a wound that bled sluggishly. She ignored it and looked around. Erik had to be here. Her eyes sought him out, running over the extinguished candles, scattered sheets of music and the majestic organ.
"Erik!" she called out, searching each room in turn. He wasn't here. He'd gone. She'd blown it. Anguish swept through her body and she choked back tears. Her vision blurred and the pain in her leg made her stumble. She fell against one of the curtained mirrors, except instead of being steadied she fell through and onto a cold floor. She looked down the dark passage way and began to follow. Please lead me to Erik she begged.
"Erik! Erik!" she called out, willing for a reply but her voice just echoed strangely. She took a turn in the passage. It was cold and she was still wet. She started to shiver violently. Her body's attempt to warm up. "Erik," her voice grew weaker. She staggered in the darkness, the pain in her leg worsening. There was an opening up ahead and lurched forward into a cavern. Extinguished candles…magnificent organ…she was back in the main lair. She couldn't believe it and would have been angry if she hadn't been so tired. Talk about a labyrinth. She was deathly cold; her body was slowly stopping her shivering. I'm going to die she thought in some sort of calm. Even the pain in her leg had diminished. Why was she here again? Erik! That one thought allowed her to limp to the organ. Erik, Erik, Erik, Erik "Erik!" The last one torn from her throat in desperation, before she slumped unconscious to the floor.
