Chapter IX: Loved
It was nearly a week before Chouet could gain the courage to see Raphael again. He had been taken straight to the police, where they had immediately impounded him in the local penitentiary. He was kept in a top security cell, where there were always men standing guard.
Now, all anybody ever talked about at the Opera Populaire Nouveau was Raphael. How had such a quite, sincere and young boy turned into such a monster? Nobody would ever imagine that, of all people, the son of Meg Giry would grow up to become a murderer…
It was such an absurd idea, Chouet still woke up in the morning, convinced that everything had been a dream and that it could have never happened to Raphael. He would have never done that. Yet, every morning, she was reminded that it was real. This was a living nightmare that she could not wake from. It would never end.
Chouet didn't attend Raphael's trial. It had been a simple trial. When asked what his plea was, Raphael said that he was guilty. Chouet even heard that he had spoken with his head high, as if he was proud to have become a monster. This fact hurt Chouet most of all, almost as much as it hurt her when she learned that the sentence was death. She finally knew the night after the trial that if she didn't see Raphael now, she would never see him again.
She walked through the grimy prison as men in their cells watched her. A few of them recognized her; she could tell by the looks they gave her. She simply walked on, not wanting to get her attention distracted from the matter at hand. The guard led her down – she could tell they were going down, since there were no more windows – to the end of the corridor. They finally arrived at a door at the end of the hallway. The guard turned to her, slightly concerned. "Are you sure you want to see him? You do realize he's a serious killer and y-"
"I know perfectly well what he is. Let me in gentlemen."
Raphael looked up suddenly. He heard voices outside his door and identified one of them as Chouet. His heart leapt, overjoyed beyond explanation. He had hoped that she would come before…it happened. Yet he hated her having to see him like this. His hands were chained behind his back to a chain that was attached to the ground, and a solitary candle lit the entire cell. His clothes were soiled and disgusting from almost a week of no bathing, and he looked horrible. He still wore his mask, however; they hadn't taken that away from him.
The door opened slowly, and Raphael watched as the dancer's frame of Chouet walked into his cell. He was shaking now, both from severe hunger and from a combination of feelings. The door shut behind Chouet, and the girl looked at Raphael, her face fallen. She finally spoke.
"I…had to come and see you…"
Raphael stared at her. "I hoped you would come…if I died before getting to see you again, my soul would mourn for all eternity."
Chouet looked up, almost as if she had been hurt by his words. "I…"
Raphael was breathing deeply. "Chouet, you never let me tell you. I thought to Phantom was a monster, I really did. But then I learned the real story. They laughed at him. They scorned him and rejected him. Just like me, Chouet. I'm simply following the course of history…"
Chouet simply watched him, speechless.
Raphael was shaking again. "Chouet…I love you. Why can't you love me? Why…?"
Chouet took a deep breath. "Raphael…I do love you…"
Raphael's heart stopped. Had he just heard correctly? She loved him…that was all he had he had ever wanted…
But then Chouet continued. "…I do love you, Raphael. I love you. Not the Phantom." Suddenly, Chouet was too weak to continue. Raphael saw now that she was crying. She gasped for breath, and then turned around, opening the door and walking out, leaving Raphael alone in the dark dungeon to wallow in his own madness.
Raphael had spoken to the Phantom often during the week in the prison alone. He had no idea what time it was, but assumed it was near midnight, if not later. He was so confused. The Phantom had been telling him wrongly…
Suddenly, Raphael heard a voice behind him. "There is no Phantom, Raphael."
Raphael turned his head sharply, looking behind him. There, in the shadows, was a man. He wore a mask just like Raphael. Raphael had no doubt that this was the Phantom. But…
"What do you mean? You…you are the phantom!"
The man shook his head. "I am not the Phantom."
Raphael was confused. "But…"
The man interrupted him. "The Phantom is a killer, a lunatic. The Phantom is a creation of our imaginations, yours and mines. The Phantom is a state of confusion and anger and love. It is not a person. There is no Phantom, Raphael. The sooner you understand that, the better off you'll be."
Raphael stared blankly at him. "But then…who are you? Who…am I?"
The man simply watched him with eyes that had seen torture and sadness beyond belief. "I am Erik. You are Raphael. One is only the Phantom if they choose to be." The man then pulled something out of his cloak. A bottle. "Now, I think you ought to get to sleep. When you wake up in a few hours, you'll understand everything much clearer." Raphael blinked as the bottle softly dropped to the ground and broke, releasing a gas. Raphael did not resist the sleeping potion as his world suddenly began to grow blurry. He thought he saw the man disappear, but maybe he had just been seeing things…
Chouet woke the next morning feeling horrible. She had to go. She had to try one last time to convince Raphael that he must save himself from the monster he had become. She left the opera house briskly as a foggy sunrise came over the horizon, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
She walked even faster through the prison, knowing where to go. She was nearly running by the time she reached the end of the corridor. When she reached the door at the end of the doorway, she was surprised to see there were no guards. She panicked. Surely they hadn't already…she turned the handle of the door, not comforted that it was unlocked, and burst into the cell.
She saw a man huddled on the ground with his back to her. Her heart leapt. "Raphael!"
The man stood up, looking at her. Chouet blinked, as she saw that this was not Raphael, but one of the guards. Chouet found that her hands were shaking. "No…have they already…?"
The man shook his head. "Actually, Mademoiselle Chouet, I have some news for you. Monsieur Raphael has disappeared. We came this morning to fetch him, and found that he had disappeared. Somehow, he escaped."
Chouet was stunned. She didn't know if she was happy or scared about this fact. How had he escaped?
The man then spoke again, and Chouet realized he was holding something behind his back. "Mademoiselle, I could never believe you would understand any more than I do about what happened, but perhaps…well, you see…" He pulled the object out from behind his back. "This was all that we could find."
Chouet took the object from him and looked at it, and somehow she understood everything. She suddenly collapsed to her knees, overcome with emotion.
The man panicked. "Mademoiselle! Are you all right?"
Chouet nodded, and it was obvious that she was overjoyed. "Raphael…Oh, Raphael…" She looked back down at the object in her hands, running her fingers over its surface, and smiled. The Phantom in Raphael had left, and all that was left as evidence was the magnificent mask Chouet held in her trembling hands.
Note from Author: And so concludes my first POTO fan fiction. I hope all of you enjoyed it! PLEASE review this! Thank you to all of you who read this, and to those who reviewed. Also, thanks to my voice teacher for finding the opera Griselda. Perhaps, if I feel like it, I shall post up a tenth chapter simply as my own feelings on this fan fiction, since I have many strong connections with this.
Look out for my next fan Phantom of the Opera fan fiction: "A Ballerina's Story"
