Repentance
They called me the opera ghost, the phantom of the opera, due to my signature of letters sent to the managers of the opera house. My name is Eric. The girl Christine Daae captivated me from the beginning, fist by the untamed sound of her voice, then by her radiant beauty. I knew I had to have her, even if it meant taking drastic measures. I had to let her know me. She would be the one to give light to my music that I wrote alone, in the darkness under the opera. It was far too simple to do, though, finding this way to her. Her desire to receive the Angel of Music who would be sent to her by her father made it so easy to draw her into me, even before she saw me. It made me feel guilty from the beginning that she was so naïve.
I gave her lessons to perfect her voice, and when she sang, I felt she would shatter me with it. Somewhere inside, I knew that she would never be mine the way I wanted her to be. I wanted her to be more than my pupil, more than my instrument in bringing my music to life. My face would terrify her the moment she saw it, as it did everyone. She might love me as a teacher, as a friend, and, possibly, a guardian, as she had none, but the position of lover or husband would never be mine, and I knew it, though I told myself it was possible to keep myself from insanity… if I indeed was sane at the time. I think she drove me mad with the first glimpse I ever caught of her.
The day came nearer to the performance of Faust and I had made it clear that Box 1 was to be left vacant for my attendance of the performance, as had always been an agreement with the former managers of the opera. The new managers did not please me with their attitude toward me, but I payed it little heed. I was preparing Christine for what she was born to be: Prima Dona.
I found that my simple wishes had been ignored. My private box was sold. It angered me that I had been disobeyed and I wrote a series of angry letters, which Madame Giry aided me in getting to Richard Firmin and Gilles Andre. I had no Idea what was to come next. The treachery that was meant to be, that was inevitable finally found me, and it used the one person closest to me.
The viscount Raul de Chagny was the second to be enchanted by Christine, but he held a power over her that I cold never have. My mask hid the reason, though she knew what it was. The viscount was what I was not, and never could be, a charming face. I wanted to be rid of him. I wanted Christine to be solely mine once more and remain so. I thought about it each night, as if seeing her made me think of it. How dare she betray me?! I couldn't say. I'd give her a choice… yes… see what she thinks then! I'd punish her for her disloyalty to me. And the viscount for seducing her away from me! They would both be punished by this one decision which Christine would make! I thought long on it… how would I do it? Murder was in my past, and I didn't want to make it obvious. People would suspect me, and I knew they would. It had to be done. I made up my mind.
That night would be the night. I'd set a trap that Raul would not fail to fall into… He'd have to come for Christine if he wanted to prove he loved her. Oh! It was so perfect. How wonderfully perfect it was. The girl, naïve, stupid girl, would have to choose me if she wanted her lover to live. If she chose Raul, I'd kill him, and he'd live if she chose me. That way, if she loved Raul, she'd be deprived of him in equally painful ways… and if she loved me, then Raul would be tortured without her…
Everything went as planned. It was flawless. I marveled at the beauty of it. Christine stood before me, and Raul took her hand, "I will save you, Christine," he told her so that I'd be sure to hear, "Don't let him manipulate you…"
I laughed as he said this. I loved to hear him say it with such confidence, "Ignorant boy," I said, "On the contrary. It is up to her to save you, Viscount de Chagny. Christine, you must choose. The choice will not be easy or perhaps it will. The terms are: Remain loyal to me, and Raul will live to the end of his life peacefully, as any other man would, most likely find another…" I said this slowly, taunting the imbecile of a boy who deemed himself worthy of Christine's affections.
"Don't listen, Christine. There will never be another!" he said in a melodramatic, heroic voice that seemed to drip with the reading of Shakespeare and other idealistic romances. I laughed as he said it.
"The other choice… You choose your lover, and I will kill him now, without hesitation, and you will live your life as you choose. I do not want you if you would chose this creature over your Angel of Music. You have betrayed me, Christine. You must be punished for your wrongs."
Christine looked marvelously confused, and how I loved to see that look on her face after she'd infuriated me so. Watching her as she looked from me to her cursed lover almost gave me satisfaction for her wrongs as it was… but no. She had to suffer for what she did.
What she did next shocked me beyond my imagination. I'd half expected her to rush into my arms weeping and demanding that Raul leave her now and never speak to her again. But she rushed to Raul and took his hand, climbing into the little rowboat, leaving the lantern behind them. I laughed as she did this and I drew my pistol cocked and fired. I couldn't see my target well, but his silhouette was clear to see. I heard him shout as the bullet hit him, but I knew the wound hadn't been a fatal one. If it was I'd have head the sound of his body hit the boat, or fall in the water. I fired again, still only able to guess as to the accuracy of my aim. Christine screamed and I heard the sound I'd wanted to hear. The body fell over the dies of the rowboat and made the most perfect splash. The poor girl screamed again and again and I pictured the wonderful sight of her in the boat looking at poor damned Raul, his blood turning the water red around him, and Christine's white dress spattered with his blood. I listened to her scream again and again and wondered how long it would take for someone to hear her. Or if they'd even care. Christine, in their eyes, had become a lunatic, a girl driven mad by ambition and loneliness.
"Where are you going, little Christine? To whom will you run?" I called after her,
laughing. I heard her desperate rowing stop and listened to her frightened sobs as she sat in the boat. It seemed she was in indecisionb whether to run, or come back. It seemed like hours passed while she just sat there. I put my weapon away, and ame back to stand by the water as I waited for her, "You make up your mind, Christine…" I called to her, and I heard her row toward the other shore, listened to her little shoes as they tapped on the stone steps. I turned around and sat at my organ, though I didn't feel like playing it again. I'd killed again. Murder was haunting me again, as it had the first time. As I thought on it, the more I began to abhor myself. Christine was gone, and most likely would never return. Never again would I hear her voice as I played the organ, and never would she become what she and I both wanted her to be…
