"No, please no don't! He didn't hurt you!" Christine woke up in a panting fury.
"Darling, what is it?" Her fiancé Raoul, who was sleeping besides her, woke up in a stir, holding Christine.
"It's nothing, just another nightmare…" Christine got out of bed, and went into the kitchen. With all the maids' home for the night, she had to get herself something to drink.
'What is it with these recurring nightmares?' She thought to herself, reaching for a glass and some champagne, given as a gift from Andre and Firmin, though cost on the expensive side, for after the opera house caught fire, it was left to be abandoned. They both decided to own another Opera house, Opera Magnifique, after inspecting multiple times there was no Phantom or Phantess.
'What do they all mean?' She sipped at her champagne as she thought of the nightmares past.
'GET HIM! NO! DON'T LET HIM LIVE!' The Phantom, running down the streets of Paris, trying to dodge the bullets, and Christine, by his side, to alls surprise, guiding him along, as if to get him away from the harsh and brutal beatings to come, as if, dare she think, she cared for him in a way beyond belief.
'DON'T TOUCH HIM!' She shouted, 'He did nothing to you!'
All of a sudden came Raoul, in front of her, looking worried, 'Are you alright?'
She snapped out of her trance, and found Raoul, in front of her, looking worried, "I said, are you alright?" He got a wash cloth, and wet it down with water and came from behind her, placed the wash cloth atop her forehead, and held her close.
"Oh Raoul, whatever shall I do? The Phantom is there! AGAIN! In my head! No escaping, dodging, hiding from the emotions stinging like bees, whizzing like bullets in thin air!"
She started to cry and he held her closer.
He stroked her hair and caressed her trembling body.
"Let us sleep again, and try to forget about what happened in the past," Raoul said, walking from the kitchen, touching his scar from the Phantom. He didn't understand what Christine's obsession with him was. He too had been confronted and in more danger that she shall ever know. Why should she be the one in such agony? In his eyes, nightmares and dreams are what was wanted or feared by the subconscious, and honestly, he didn't want to go through what he did again. He almost lost her once to the Phantom, but he wouldn't let it happen again.
He got into bed and waited for her to come and follow. After 10 minutes, she didn't show. He got up, and headed toward the kitchen. Right before he entered, he heard a blood curdling screech. It was as if skin was being ripped off layer by layer and you were stuck watching.
He felt nervous jolts rushing throughout his spine. Gathering his courage, he stepped slowly into the kitchen.
He screamed as he saw the horrifying image and ran back to the bedroom to reach for his sword. He ran out the door, struggling to get the sheath around his waist and stepped out on to the wet, cold, cobble stoned streets. He looked around, trying to avoid the misty breath cloud forming from in front of his face each time he let out a hefty breath.
He couldn't find anything or anyone, just cold, wet, chilling air. He started back on his way to his mansion and was about to enter the threshold when he saw the door with a note attached to the front of it. Written in a crimson color, was the phrase, 'Keep your hand at the level of your eyes.' He detached it and walked inside, puzzled and shocked. The note was written in blood.
