Regret
By: KaitlynRose
Disclaimer: Don't own them.
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The torch carrying mob was now gone. He entered his lair slowly, carefully, his eyes taking in the destruction before him. All his mirrors were shattered, but he had done that himself. His curtains and draperies had been ripped from the wall and shredded. That would be easy enough for him to replace. His candlesticks had been knocked over and scattered about. It would only take a few minutes for him to right them. He walked to his organ and breathed a sigh of relief. It was intact except for spilled wax that had caked on the top. The opera he had been working on was completely destroyed. No bother, he had only just begun it.
He walked over to the back wall. At the bottom of the wall was a large and rather heavy rock. With a mighty shove he forced it to roll over. There, hidden in a small nook, was his most worldly possessions. A dozen operas he had written over the years, enough money to buy him an estate every bit as large as the vicomte's, and several masks he had stored away for an emergency. On top of the pile he added his newest treasure, a large engagement ring for a bride that would never be his.
Suddenly he could feel his blood begin to boil in his veins. Rage overcame him until he completely lost control. He hoisted several candelabras and threw them across the room. He kicked a fallen chair. He grabbed any object he could get his hands on and threw it anywhere and at anything.
Finally he collapsed into a broken heap upon the ground and the tears came. Tears of loss, tears of love, tears of hate, tears of pity, they flowed down his cheeks unashamedly. He was alone, again. Even worse, the Opera House was no more. Now he wouldn't even be able to spy on the living. He was truly removed from the world. Could he really go on living a life of absolute solitude?
He rolled on to his side and saw a large piece of broken mirror next to his face. He picked it up and looked into it. The one side of his face was so perfect, so flawless. Christine had found him attractive, even handsome at first, until she had pulled his mask away. He knew, however, that in the end, she hadn't left him because of his face. No, she had left him because he behaved like a monster on top of looking like one. He closed his eyes as her words came back to him.
'…this face holds no fear for me now, it's in your heart the true distortion lies.'
He had terrified her. He had almost murdered a man right in front of her eyes. She was an angel, all sweetness and goodness, and he had behaved like a demon sent from hell. Of course she had left him. Christine wanted someone as good and kind as she was. But he couldn't be that person. Could he?
He sat up as crazy thoughts began to run through his head; thoughts of a life above ground, thoughts of a manor house with a beautiful garden, and thoughts of himself, in fine clothing and being a gentleman.
"You fool," he said. "Why do you deceive yourself? You! A gentleman."
He stood up and paced back and forth in the room. It was madness, and yet the thoughts continued. Christine wanted someone kind, someone good. Could he find a way to redeem himself? Could he make a life for himself on the surface world and live in the light?
He looked in to the piece of mirror once more. He had half a face. He had intelligence. He had money and could easily make more. But he would need help. He would need someone with a whole face to purchase an estate for him in his name.
He walked back over to his mask and picked it up. He held it up to his face and looked once more upon his reflection. The white against his flesh looked so morbid, so sinister, but what if he painted it. Why not a mask the same color as his skin? He also noticed how his real hair split in the middle and fell softly over his forehead, hiding the unsightly flesh underneath it. Could he grow it out more and style it so that it covered his forehead and ear? Yes, yes he could. His mind swirled with possibilities. He would live. He would live in the light, and he would win Christine back by being good and kind. He would sell his operas and become famous using a false name, and she would sing for him once more.
But what if she rejected him again? What if that insolent vicomte stood in the way once more? No, he wouldn't think of that now. Focus. Focus on creating a new life. The time would come when he would deal with the vicomte, but not now. Now there was work to be done. He had to find Mme Giry. She would help him and get him the supplies he needed to create his new mask. Yes, it all seemed so simple now. Why hadn't he done this before? He knew the answer. There hadn't been a need to before. Christine had been here. She had loved him, needed him, and he had been whole. Now she was gone, but he would get her back. He would become worthy.
"Christine, I love you."