This chapter took longer than I expected. Hope you like.
The old, wooden door of Celui's flat with a foreboding creak, causing Elsa to snap to attention.
For the past few days, still strapped uncomfortably to that chair, she slept every chance she got, which wasn't often; Celui was hardly ever out of the room. But she was so exhausted. Her limbs ached, her bruises weren't yet beginning to heal-even her mind felt weak. Whenever he got the opportunity, Celui would torment Elsa about her relationship with the Phantom of the Opera, telling her he wasn't worth her time, and neither was she worth any of his. Their love would never work. In fact, Celui had once sneered, he was sure the Phantom didn't even care about her, and wasn't even worried he would never get her back. Elsa knew it wasn't true...or did she? She never liked the thought of love affairs and romances, but she thought Erik was different. Maybe he wasn't.
Lucky for Elsa though, Celui had recently stepped out, saying something about picking up some various items. So she was left alone, for the moment at least; and she was beginning to fear she would be doomed to spend the rest of her life in that dark room, tied to that horrible chair.
But now, someone else was in the room, and Elsa had a strong feeling that it wasn't Celui, who usually greeted her when he entered, even if the remarks were cold and harsh. Light footsteps were heard creeping closer.
Please don't kill me, Elsa sighed to herself.
Celui may have "gone out" just for someone else to come in and dispose of her, like he had promised he would do if Erik didn't give him the Opera Populaire. Maybe he was tired of waiting.
Elsa gave a shudder as a hand rested on the back of the chair, next to her head. It was a pale hand, delicate-the hand of a woman.
It wasn't Danielle, she realized sadly. But she hadn't counted on anything as miraculous as that to happen. Not to her, least ways.
Whoever it was sighed behind her. The noise was filled with mock compassion and sorrow-and it filled Elsa with paranoia.
Then she realized who it was. The figure standing quietly behind her, exhaling calmly, was none other than Christine Daae de Chagny!
"Oh, Elsa," the melancholy voice of Christine sighed again. "I never meant it to be this way." Her hand passed deftly over Elsa's hair in sympathy.
Elsa stiffened. She could either say something, or hear what this Prima Donna had to say.
"But when I saw the way Erik looked a you, that night in my dressing room when he insisted you stay with him instead of with Raoul and me, well, I just felt I had to do something," Christine continued. "I couldn't have him falling for you after he'd fallen so hard for me." She glanced down at Elsa and stressed her next statement. "I am, after all, the only woman truly worthy of the Angel of Music's love. Too worthy. That's why I had to leave him for Raoul."
Elsa clenched her jaw shut and felt her muscles tense in aggression. So, she wasn't good enough to be loved by Erik?
Christine ceased her speech for a moment, walking in front of her. Wrapped in black shawls and veiled from the top of her head to her neck, it was obvious she had snuck away from her mansion-and Raoul-to come here. But why? What did she mean to accomplish?
She spoke again.
"I left him for Raoul," she repeated harshly, almost resentfully. "I married him for power, not love," she smirked. "But his undying love for me has softened his political side. He wouldn't dream of monopolizing Paris, because it would somehow hurt me." She scoffed, apparently disgusted with the thought. "That is why I began meeting with Gaston. He's crafty and devious-not to mention more my age!"
"You're having an affair!" accused Elsa, looking at Christine shamefully.
"You would too if your husband was a weak, spineless excuse for the Vicomte of Paris!" she shrieked in defense. "Raoul had the potential to make this city a place where the people feared him and praised him! But-"
"This is Paris," interrupted Elsa, "not the whole of France. You can't rule it as if it were a country; a Vicomte can't act as King." Had Christine gone mad?
"You know nothing of this," snapped Christine, glaring down at her. "You're not even from here!"
Elsa rolled her eyes thinking, Power trip!
"I should have Gaston kill you now," she spat, "instead of waiting for Erik to hand over the opera house."
"Erik won't give you the opera house," Elsa said.
"Oh, won't he?" Christine purred dangerously, resting her hand on Elsa's neck. "I think he will...After a little persuasion!" She tightened her grip, choking the breath out of Elsa.
Elsa winced and cursed to herself. Dammit! What is it with everyone wanting to choke me to death!
"Christine...!"
Christine wouldn't let go. She was going to kill her right there.
"Mademoiselle de Chagny, what on Earth are you doing?"
Christine, blushing terribly, removed her hand and cried, "Gaston!" She giggled, a bit nervously, and ran to him, falling into his arms. "Darling I was just apologizing to Elsa-for all of this!"
Elsa, still choking slightly as she recovered her breath, resolved not to yell out, "Liar!" Gaston wouldn't believe her, Christine being his new lover.
"My dear," Gaston said, sweetly kissing her. "You need not apologize to her. She's not worth your time."
Okay, I want away from these people now, thought Elsa bitterly. Erik, please, please, please come and get me! Anytime now!
"Ah!" exclaimed Gaston, looking at his pocket watch. "Already half past 8. Christine, I must go see a monster about an opera house. You'll be all right walking back to your home unaccompanied?"
"Oh," pouted Christine innocently. "I was hoping I could come along."
"I think it would be unwise to reveal you in my presence," Gaston said.
"Oh, what does it matter anymore? Even when you do get those papers, we're killing them both!" Elsa's eyes widened. "Please allow me to come! I could be of some assistance, perhaps."
"Oh, all right," Gaston gave in. "You are terribly difficult to refuse, Mademoiselle de Chagny. But we must hurry. I wouldn't want to be late-Not tonight!"
He laughed and hurried over to Elsa. Finally! Some attention!
"Sorry for this-Actually, no I'm not!" he laughed, knocking Elsa over the head with a heavy object, most likely his pistol.
Elsa's vision blurred and she was soon unconscious, unaware of where exactly she was being carried off to.
I must admit, this chapter didn't turn out exactly as I had planned...But oh well. I may rewrite it later. I'm havin' some...health...issues right now, and it's killin' me to type this. Hope it was sufficient. Review please, tell me what you think should happen.