Chapter 25: The Show Must Go On
Christine stared outside numbly. She was at Raoul's flat, it was on the other side of the city from the Moulin Rouge. She had not moved from the chair in front of the window. It was still raining a day later. She had eaten nothing, said nothing nor dreamt for she did not sleep. The world was nothing to her without Erik. She missed his touch, his voice. She missed the feeling of his love, the feeling that he was always there in the shadows.
But he wasn't, not anymore.
Tonight was the show, she was to perform. Would Erik still be there? Would he have gone by now? Yes, he would not stay to be tortured by her any longer. Christine longed to return to the Moulin Rouge, longed to be by her lover's side.
But the darkness was gone from her life, forever.
Now she was scolded by the sun for ignoring it for so long. Which made her hate the light even more. Where there was darkness there was Erik. Without darkness, she was nothing.
Nothing.
Raoul came up behind her and started rubbing her shoulders. She had refused to change out of the dress although it was muddy and torn, Erik had pressed himself against it, leaving his scent of spice and a hint of vanilla nestled within the fabric. She glared up at Raoul and he ceased his light caressing of her tense muscles. She returned her never wavering gaze to the street below. Hope still burned weakly within her that he would come and take her away. But doubt still lingered as well. Raoul pulled a chair in front pf her, blocking her view and smothering the remnants of hope she had left. She was forced to look at him.
"Christine, I don't think that it is a good idea that you perform tomorrow. It would be better if you forget about singing altogether, then you will forget of that terrible experience." He took her hands in his, flinching slightly at the lack of warmth he found there.
Christine stared at him, not sure what to make of his stupidity.
"Alright." She lied.
'Idiot' She thought to herself. She would most defiantly be performing.
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Erik stared out the window in front of the bed he had been confined to. It was still raining.
Toulouse and Christian had carried him up to a room after he had collapsed in the middle of the street. He had awoken a few hours later, too weak to leave the bed. He was better today, but he still did nothing but gaze out the window. Hope still burned somewhere within him, hope that she would rush through the door and ask him to come away with her. But it was smothered when Christian came to tell him of the girl named Giselle that was to play the lead in the musical. Apparently the victome hasn't been very supportive of music since the infamous Opera incident.
Toulouse came through the door with a tray of tea.
And her trunk.
Erik only glanced at the disruption for a moment before returning to his fantasy of Christine coming through the door, begging him to take her back.
Would he take her back?
After her scene with Raoul? Not likely.
Then why did he have this feeling? This feeling that something was wrong? He strained his memory to expand and come back to him, he could only remember Christine going to kiss Raoul, nothing else.
Toulouse set the tea down in Erik's lap.
He scowled and returned his gaze to the beating of raindrops on the window of Toulouse's flat.
"Erik you have to eat something." Toulouse pulled up a chair beside the wrought-iron bed.
Erik simply continued to live inside his prison that was his mind.
Toulouse sighed. "Nothing is what it seems Erik. I may seem to be a dwarfish pimp who plays with girls at the Moulin Rouge, but I 'am simply an artist looking for a way to spend his never-ending waking hours. She loves you Erik, I can feel it in my bones, she loves you."
There was an awkward silence.
"Go away." Erik whispered hoarsely.
"I 'am not leaving until you eat someth…"
"GO AWAY!"
Toulouse stood, got his coat and paused at the door. He examined the broken man on the bed.
Then he left.
Erik made sure he was gone before standing and retrieving the trunk. It was small and light enough to carry to the bed. He gently set it down and unlocked the clasps. The lid eased open.
And Erik caught her scent.
Something clicked in his mind, a memory of her warmth beneath him in the freezing rain.
Then it was gone.
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Christine worked quickly to saddle the black as pitch stallion. She used everything she remembered Erik teaching her about saddling. She had a very strong distaste towards the side saddle and ignored it completely. Erik had laughed at her face of disgust when he had first introduced her to it. He had then shyly put his hands on her waist to help her down from the steed's back. And she had accidentally fallen into his arms.
Christine smiled weakly to herself at these memories.
Then fell back to reality when she heard Raoul's screams of fury.
"WHERE IS SHE! CHRISTINE!"
Christine finished the task swiftly and mounted, she gave the horse a squeeze with her heels.
And she was off, back to her own world of fantasy and song.
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Harold stared at the scene before him, the rouge curtain being pulled into place above the stage. Gold tassels hung from the edges, catching the light in a classical manner.
Another failed romance…
He whispered to himself.
The show must go on!
The show must go on!
There was a bang as one of the mirrored doors that served as main entrance to the night club, was thrown open.
And Christine walked into her world in which she belonged.
Then she sang.
I'll top the bill,
I'll feel the fill,
But I need to find the strength to carry on…
She searched frantically for the familiar faces of Meg and Giselle.
On with the!
On with the!
On with the SHOW!
