2018 October 31

I visited the opera today. I almost wish I hadn't, but I am glad I did. More pieces have fallen into place. And my face! All I ever remember seeing was a clever mask! And the mask cracked and shattered today, after someone tried to mug me. Or was I even being mugged? I just remember falling.

When I woke up it was dark and no one was around. I struggled to get up from what I now realized was the floor of the stage of the Opera. Pieces of porcelain are scattered on the floor in front of me. It's dark, but I can see like a cat. Another piece of the puzzle has fallen into my lap. How the hell did I get left here? Best I can tell, I wandered off to look at something and fainted.

Anyways, this place seems almost too familiar… Like I lived here before. Yet another puzzle piece to my missing memories.

A light! So bright it pains my eyes. Instinct is telling me to flee. I obey, following unbidden flashes of memory. Down, down, into darkness I flee! Where I go, where I am headed, I do not know for sure.

---Angelique

1889, October 31

He hadn't changed at all since I last saw him. Still refuses to let others see his face.

"Why have you come back? Do you wish to hurt me further?" He snarled. Still has a temper.

"You are not alone," I offered. "At least not anymore."

"What do you mean?" Erik inquired. "Who…who is that with you?"

"That…is your daughter."

"My daughter? What is her name then?"

"She has none as of yet, I thought you might like to name her."

"I shall call her Angelique, she will be my little Angel."

"She is all yours, my Angel of Music."

As I watched her calmly go with the man I used to call master, I wonder how he'll react when he sees her. Will he have pity? Will he be full of anger once again? Will he show her the care and compassion that neither Raoul nor I were ever able to give?

I fear these questions go forever unanswered. But I have made arrangements. If ever (or when) I die, this journal shall be given to her. I hope that then she will have the answers that she and I seek.

I must, though, forget all about her. For our safety and hers.

--- Christine de Chagny