Soul Consumption

Chapter Five

Disclaimer: Same as usual. The Phantom of the Opera belongs to my buddies Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber. I just own random things like those uninteresting new characters and the plot.


"I invented loving you and I invented your death. I have my tricks and trap doors, too. I don't understand their workings at the present moment, but I have to be careful, I won't speak against them"

-Title and author of story unknown. (if anyone knows, please lemme know. Thanks.)


"Erik! Please wait!" Gulping down her fear and grabbing her skirts in one hand, Christine placed a hand against the cold stone of the wall. She shakily lowered a foot into the darkened stairway, careful to place it on the step.

She almost lost her footing when a banging erupted on the door to the chapel. The pounding was hard and loud, as if the thing doing it was suffering from an uncontrolled anxiousness. Christine placed her other foot into the darkened staircase. Night partially surrounded as she turned and stared at the door, her chest heaving. She could hear someone calling her name from the other side.

"Christine! Are you in there, Christine!"

Suddenly, the door was being pulled. It swung open with force, slamming into the wall outside, and seconds later Meg rushed into the room. She paused and stared at Christine with wide, frightful dark eyes. Her face was pale, as if she'd seen a spirit. "Christine! What on earth is going on?" She stood there, her mind processing the situation. Christine was standing in some… passageway of sorts. The light from the window just barely illuminated a staircase that lead down to darkness.

"Meg, please go back," Christine said softly, her grip on her skirt tightening. She was running out of time! She needed to go after him!

"Are you joking?" Meg said incredulously, blinking dumbly at Christine. "You plan to go down there! Christine, you have finally lost it. Come on, come with me." She held out a hand impatiently, as if talking to a child.

"Meg, please," Christine whispered, even as her hand groped aimlessly and blindly around the inside wall. Years and years of dust coated her soft fingertips.

"Do you take me for a fool? I will not just leave you here! Honestly, Christine, stop joking around." Though she tried to act light hearted, her mind was screaming for her to hurry and drag Christine out. Fear had seized her senses. She took a few steps forward.

A small, nail-sized button graced the blue-eyed woman's fingertips. Christine let out a sigh. "I will be fine, I promise you. Please, go back to your mother. Close the chapel door behind you, and do not mention this to anyone. I will find you soon. Please, Meg." With her index finger, she pushed hard on the button. Stone started to grind against stone, creaking started to grace her ears.

And the door began to shut.

"Christine! Are you insane!" Meg rushed at the door, but despite the door being made of heavy stone, it closed rather quickly. Christine disappeared behind a wall, and Meg cried out, hitting her fists against the bumpy surface. "Christine! Good God, Christine!"


Darkness. Pure, utter darkness.

No light could be seen for as long as the passageway continued down. It was just dark… dark and silent. Fear crawled up Christine's spine and she felt it shiver through her limbs. She was to go down this steep staircase, risking falling and breaking her neck. She almost laughed. They were completely insane, her actions. As she groped the wall and took another cautious step down, she swallowed her fear. This needed to be done. There was no other way.

"Erik, please," she called softly, knowing, however, that he couldn't hear her. And if he could… well, she did not think that he would be coming up to rescue her from his world of darkness. She didn't deserve his rescuing, not at this point. Part of her believed she never deserved any of the emotions the masked man had given her. He had placed her on a pedestal, and she had watched him fall without offering a hand.

It took a long time to get down the stairs, even though she was moving as fast as she possibly could in the dark. Several times, her satin shoes caused her to almost lose her balance and go tumbling down into the night, but some force helped her keep her balance. After her patience and her courage wearing thin, she pulled the shoes off of her stocking-covered feet and hurled them into the darkness.

With her chest heaving in frustration and sharp gasps of breath tearing from her lungs, Christine continued down the stairs. The stone stairs were bitterly cold against her feet, but it didn't take long before she was immune to the chill. Her body had shut down to the things that would have stopped her had she given in to the fear that was slinking around her like a serpent. She was past the point of being able to return. She couldn't have made it up the steep stairs without slipping if she had wanted to. Her only choice was to go down… to go to Erik.

She continued, one careful step after the other. Her eyes had long ago gained some adjustment to the darkness, so she could make out the very faint outline of the steps. But it felt as if the staircase would go on forever. Her legs were beginning to tire from continuous, tense movement. However, when she looked up from the staircase to squint into the darkness, it was no darkness she was met with. Firelight could be seen, only a few hundred feet down in the tunnel. With a gasping cry, she quickened her steps, almost toppling forward down the stairs.

She almost collapsed to the ground in pure relief when she stepped down onto leveled ground. Powdery, dry dirt felt cool and comfortable under her feet after the countless freezing, stone steps. However, she didn't stop to rest. She walked slowly down the new, wide corridor, letting her eyes adjust to the sudden light of the torches. A quick thought about looking for her shoes slipped into her mind, but immediately left as she kept walking.

She came to a point where the corridor opened up to a large room. In the distance, she could hear the distinct sound of lapping water. Turning around in a slow circle, Christine saw that this was something of a fork in the road. Besides the corridor she had just stepped out of, there were two others, each on either side of her tunnel. And suddenly, it all made sense. She was sure if she walked into and down the corridor to her left, it would lead to the magnificent white horse she had ridden when Erik had taken her through the mirror the first time. Which meant it would lead to her old dressing room.

Holding back the forceful wave of memories, Christine turned and walked into the large room. If she wasn't mistaken, she would end up at the lake soon. But… what then? If Erik was not there, she couldn't swim across. She had witnessed what happened when people attempted to get across his lake without his granted permission. And if he was there, who was to say he would grant her passage across. It had been clear that he had not wanted her there. He had sneered at the very sight of her face. And now, in his world, he could do what he pleased.

But that… none of that… mattered anymore.

All selfish needs were behind her, left to sit forever in the chapel. She was not doing this only for her bruised and battered conscious, or for her soul that Erik carried within him. She was doing this for Erik himself, for his bruised and battered heart. For his broken and shattered self esteem that she had helped break into millions of little pieces. There was only one monster hiding under the floors of the Opera House, and that monster was not the disfigured man who had been so passionate and moving. That monster was Christine, who though beautiful on the outside was a selfish creature on the inside.

The realizations brought angry tears to her eyes. How blind she had been! She had lied to Erik, had played with his heart for the sake of her own. And for the love of all things living, at the time, she had not even known where her heart truly lied! There was no excuse for such stupidity on her part. She had been so naïve. And to think, she told herself bitterly, you were the one who told him he was naïve just a little while ago.

The sight of the dreary but shimmering lake brought her out of her own guilt-soaked thoughts. However, her eyes didn't stay on the water long. A hunched over figure, kneeling at the edge of the water, was noticeable in the light of the torches. The silken, black cape that flowed down the figure's back and onto the ground shimmered even more brightly as it shook with unknown emotions. She knew it was Erik. A small sliver of his porcelain mask was viewable to her eye.

Christine felt her heart start to slowly and painfully tear in several places. Her chest constricted as she forced herself not to cry out to him. Self-hatred coursed through her every cell. Look what you've done! she screamed inside of her head, the tears in her eyes burning like acid. Devastation and the urge to go and wrap her arms around the fallen creature pushed her only a step closer, before she forced herself not to move.

But Erik had heard her soft footstep, even though she had tried to keep silent. His body froze, his spine and back muscles becoming rigid with fear and anger. She has followed you back into this world of despair, his mind murmured. Shaking his head as if trying to push some unwanted, compassionate thought from his mind, he ever so slowly stood. He did not turn to her, for fear that she would see the untamed emotion swirling in the golden depths of his eyes.

"Are you insane?" he hissed, his hands clenched at his sides. He closed his eyes, as if he was wishing her away. It only succeeded in freeing the tears he had stored in his eyelids.

"Maybe," Christine said softly, taking another step forward. She stopped with a quick hiss of breath when his hand came up in a motion for her to discontinue her movement forward. She looked at his back with helplessness.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he asked softly, raw passion creeping into his voice. However, that voice turned into an angry, accusing roar. "Have you not done enough, Christine!?"

Her voice cracked as she spoke. "Erik, please, just let me—"

"Just let you speak, Christine?" he said with a soft but harsh laugh. The sound made her cringe. "Then please, my dear, the floor is yours. Speak."

He turned, his face pale and his unhidden cheek streaked with a trail where tears had fallen. His eyes were torrents of the sun, bright and blinding. They made Christine want to look away. How could she stare into such raw depths without crumbling? She was already having trouble keeping herself standing after seeing Erik so broken. She hated seeing his tears.

She was silent for a few moments. How on earth could she start? How could she say what she needed to without stumbling over her words like a blubbering idiot? Catching her bottom teeth with her lips, she looked down, her mind racing. He had given her the floor, yet she couldn't find the words to portray what she felt!

"You cannot even look me in the eyes," Erik said, softly scoffing, trying to act as if it didn't cut him more. "Christine, just go back the way you came. The Phantom is dead. Let it stay that way." He turned away once again, walking to the edge of the lake. The boat, with an unlit lantern hanging from the front, rested peacefully in the water.

"Erik!" He paused. She knew it was her only chance, so she jumped in and let the words pour out, unorganized and untainted by thought. "I came here hoping to confess my heart. I did not think I would be doing so directly to you, but I guess it is better that way."

Erik didn't move, but she could tell he was getting impatient. "I was a fool," she stated softly, keeping her eyes trained on the back of his head. If he turned, she wanted him to see the unveiled truth in her eyes. "I was a complete, utter fool. I took everything you did for me for granted. When I read of your death, I was positive that is was my fault. My insolence and disregard for your love slowly ate away at you until you were nothing more than a corpse."

He did turn now, his eyes narrowed in confusion. This could not be Christine talking. Not the same Christine who had sat upon the roof, sheltered by Apollo's Lire and her lover, speaking of the hideous beast that lived in the dungeons of the Opera House. Not the Christine who had lied to him about her engagement to her lover, not the Christine who had broken her promise.

"I wanted to come, I told you that," she continued, her eyes locked on his. "I tried, but certain things held me confined in my home. I was not able to leave the boundaries of the estate, which meant I had no way to travel here, to travel to you."

"My patience grows thin, Christine," he said softly. His eyes were burning into hers.

"I needed to come here. I needed to release myself of this selfish, painful guilt that has ridden me mentally ill for two years. I needed to pour my heart out to whatever remained of you, for if I didn't, I felt that my heart would burst inside of my chest. I could not take it, Erik! I had done worse to you than was imaginable!" She stopped to catch her breath, trying to tame the pounding of her blood. "I left you alone and desolate, while I left with everything, including your heart."

She slowly lifted her right hand into view, where the golden ring still sat, perfect and shimmering in the torchlight. Erik visibly flinched. He did not wish to see that piece of pointless jewelry that once upon a time told of his relentless love for the woman standing in front of him.

"But I didn't leave you alone, Erik," she said with a pained laugh. "You stole my soul the moment you sang to me with that perfect, selfless voice. Even if I had known that it wished to stay with you for eternity, I would not have been able to stop it. That was how strong its attraction to you was." Tears filled her blue eyes. They sparkled like sapphires. "It had taken me too long to understand what I left behind in this dark place, and why."

"You left behind a broken creature for a life," Erik hissed, his heart cracked open and bleeding in his chest. He had taken a few menacing steps toward her, his eyes blazing with fervor.

"Do not put words in my mouth!" she retorted, just as fervently. Her eyes glowed like blue flames now, even as the tears tried to extinguish the raw emotion that Erik could read clearly in her eyes. He wanted to turn away from it.

"Christine, you need to leave!" he yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "You need to leave and never return here! There is nothing here! This Erik you speak of has died, Christine! The headline on the paper did not lie! I told you that! Erik is no more. Why can you not see that?" His voice had descended to a low pitch, deep and withering in agony just as his soul was.

"Because I can see it in your eyes," Christine said softly, raising a hand to his face. He jerked away as if burned, his eyes wide with shock and uncovered need. She lowered her hand helplessly. "Erik…"

"He is dead," came the strangled reply. "HE IS DEAD!"

Christine studied the face of the man in front of her. The usually smooth contours were contorted into hard lines of anger and pain. Though tears still lurked in her eyes, her voice was soft and empty. Taking a few steps forward, she pulled the golden band from her finger. Before Erik could react, she grabbed his hand and placed the ring onto his palm. He immediately pulled away from her, his chest heaving as he tried to control the outburst of emotion that had racked him moments before.

"Erik, are you blind as to why I stand here? You said it yourself, upstairs, that my coming back would have meant something!" she cried out, a sob breaking through her lips. She wanted to sink to her knees; her legs felt as if they would give out under her. "I came back, Erik," she whispered, looking up at him as fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. "I came back."


Author's Note: First of all,thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I love you guys for it!

Also, quick note, so that I may explain Raoul's behavior in the first chapter. In my eyes, I portrayed him correctly. After all Erik threatened to take away from him (and what he did take away), I think it was more than enough to make Raoul so angry and possessive, though he is usually a sensitive man. After Erik almost killed Raoul, kidnapped and threatened Christine, and then killed his brother, the Comte, I would think Raoul would absolutely hate if Christine showed any guilt at the Phantom's passing, let alone any emotion toward Erik. But that's just how I think.

Again, thank you guys so much! Keep up with the reviews; they push me to write, as I know I have people to write for. If anyone wishes to talk to me on IM, the screenname is XhornsorHaloX. Until next time.