Ch. 8 – Revelations
Hours later, she awoke in her room. She had not forgotten the dreadful news, even in all her hours of unconsciousness. Instead, it was as if the words had echoed in her darkened mind, repeating over and over, until she was forced to comprehend and accept them.
She sat up weakly. In the corner of her room, Elsa slept in a small armchair, concerned no doubt for the health of her young friend. Next to her chair on a small end table lay the newspaper article that had brought such upheaval to Christine's nearly peaceful life. She silently crossed the room, careful not to wake Elsa, and grasped the paper in her trembling hand. She sat down before the light of the candle and spread it out before her.
Christine closed her eyes, mentally steeling herself for the emotional tumult that would undoubtedly ensue. But she had to know. She had heard no word of him in over a year, and her soul cried out to know what had become of him and how his tragic life had ended. She was hungry for every detail of him, no matter what pain it caused her. She took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and proceeded to read.
"Phantom of the Opera Found Dead."
"A man fitting the description of the infamous 'Phantom of the Opera' was found dead beneath the Opera Populaire late last week. The body was discovered during the recent renovation of the Opera House, following a disastrous fire rumored to be the work of the mysterious Phantom. The death appeared to be the result of multiple gunshot wounds, most likely inflicted during the mob riot following last year's performance of 'Don Juan Triumphant' in which the Phantom himself appeared. Upon discovering the body of Ubaldo Piangi, the Opera's leading tenor, opera members and police stormed the Phantom's underground lair. According to witnesses, the Phantom was never seen, but shots were fired in an attempt to force him from hiding. Unbeknownst to those present, several shots apparently met their target. Although badly decomposed, the Phantom's body was identified through a well-known physical deformity of the face and from the discovery of a white half-mask which he was known to wear. His body will be cremated, as is customary for those considered to be enemies of society."
Christine's vision was clouded by her tears. She could not bear to read any more. "...as is customary for those considered to be enemies of society..." She was angered by the words. Society made its own enemy, she thought bitterly. She dropped to her knees before the fire, sobbing quietly. She had never felt so alone. Her angel, her protector was gone. His dark beauty and incredible genius lost to her and the world forever. Never again would she hear his enchanting voice, or feel the power and rapture of his music. She would never fully experience the passion that he had given her but a taste of the night of Don Juan Triumphant. She would never again taste the sweetness of his gentle, uncertain kiss. He had been the only being on Earth who had understood her passion for music, and the only one who had felt the desires of her heart without her speaking a word. With no one else would she share such a bond. No, in all her life, even following the death of her father, she had never felt so unbearably alone in the world. And yet, the thought which rent and tore at her soul above all others was in knowing that she had deserted her beloved Angel on the night of his death.
"My God, what have I done?" she whispered. That night she had treated him with unspeakable cruelty. She had played upon his desire for her, leading him into a trap that would ultimately end in his death. Her head fell into her hands and she sobbed uncontrollably now.
Why had she agreed to do it? She had begged Raoul to leave her out of his plan, but he had persisted. Confused, frightened by the Phantom's rage and violence, she had allowed Raoul to steer her will. During the months following the death of Joseph Buquet and in the absence of her Angel, she had needed someone to comfort and guide her, and Raoul had been eager to fill the void. He had represented a simpler life, a life free from the overwhelming passion and fear that the Phantom offered her. In her youth and naivety, she had seized at the opportunity to be rescued from the storm of emotion that engulfed her body, mind, and soul. Now, she cursed her weakness of will and the faintness of her heart. If she had only been stronger, more certain of what she wanted, all of this horror could have been avoided.
In her weakness, however, she had agreed to the plan, but that night on the stage, as her Angel had risked everything to win her, her heart and body and worked of their own accord. She had been powerless to resist as her body yielded to his every caress. Her voice responded to the passion of his in a way that was beyond her control. She became lost in the moment, forgetting the danger around them as she luxuriated in the tangible caress of his voice and the heat of his touch as she had never before allowed herself to do. And then, when they had met at last on the bridge before all the audience, when he could have had her body and soul at any moment, he had stopped the exquisite torment of his seduction, and had asked humbly for her heart.
A searing pain shot through her at the memory of it and she closed her eyes. As she had realized what he was offering, her eyes had flown open, and behind him she had seen the armed guard standing with gun ready at the edge of the scaffolding. Suddenly, she had remembered the cruel trap to which she was the bait. She had known then with undeniable certainty she could never go through with it. But if her Angel remained there with her, he would surely be captured or killed.
Her mind had raced franticly as she considered her options. The guard would only shoot when he had a clear shot, once she was clear of her lover's embrace. As her Angel stepped away from her to seek her eyes and ask his final question, the moment had come. If she waited any longer, the guards would have the opportunity they were waiting for. He was risking everything, his love making him reckless despite the danger. He would not leave her until he heard her answer, no matter what the cost.
Suddenly she had known what she would have to do. Despite the agony it caused her, she did not hesitate, but quickly removed his mask. She knew that without his mask he would not be able to bear her eyes and the eyes of the audience on his marred face. He would flee, of that she had been certain, and he would be safe.
What she hadn't been prepared for was the look of shock and betrayal, of the unimaginable sadness as he stared at her unmoving; making no effort to hide himself though he had in effect been laid bare before all. His tortured eyes held one agonizing question – Why? In that moment, her heart had been torn in two, and though her desperate eyes pleaded with him to forgive her, she knew he would never forget her treachery.
At the shrieks of the audience and the flurry of motion behind him, he had seemed suddenly to become aware of the impending danger, and with a quickness that left the guards staring dumbstruck, quickly cut the rope for the chandelier, pulled her to him, and dropped out of sight through a hidden trap door in the stage.
In the moments that followed, she had found herself dragged to his home by a madman. Gone was the charming, gentle tutor she had grown to trust. The man before her behaved as the monster his appearance portrayed. Though she knew she deserved his wrath for her betrayal, his rough treatment confused and wounded her. Prior to that night, he had always treated her with such delicate care, spoken to her as if she were a princess in a fairy tale - his angel. And now, he treated her as a slave, a prisoner. He had murdered Piangi, and while Christine had no great love for the man herself, she could not condone his selfish and violent actions. This other side to the man she cared so much for unnerved her, and she had responded to his anger in kind - uttering words that she knew she would later regret, as she did now.
She stared into the flames of the fire, allowing herself at last to remember all that had transpired that awful night. Raoul had come then, but he had proved quickly he was no match for her Angel. In his valiant rescue attempt, he had managed to become captured himself only moments after his arrival, forcing her to accept responsibility for his life as well.
Finally, her Angel had stunned her with an unimaginable ultimatum, love him or allow Raoul to die at his hand. She had merely stared at him in stunned disbelief, as he stood so dangerous and desperate before her. Compassion and guilt washed over her as she realized he truly believed that this was the only way he could ever hope to have her love, to have anyone's love for that matter. She had driven him to this madness with her indecision and betrayal - playing dangerously with a desperate heart that had been wounded so deeply by human cruelty in the past.
She knew words would never be enough to convince him that she cared for him. She had stepped forward purposefully, reaching out to him, willing him to believe in the truth of her actions. She had slipped his ring on her finger, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. In that first kiss, she had poured all of her tenderness and compassion, wanting desperately to prove to him that he was no longer alone in the world.
When he drew back in wonder, searching her eyes, she had reached for his lips again. This time, she had opened the gates of her very soul to him, allowing him to feel her adoration and passion for him. When she stepped back, she had smiled tremulously, hoping to see some trace of recognition in his eyes of her gift.
At first, she had thought he understood, his face seeming to light with a faint trace of a smile. Quickly however, she had realized her mistake. The smile twisted into an expression of unadulterated agony and rage. His face could not have held more pain if she had pierced his flesh with a knife. To her horror, she realized her Angel believed her kiss to be nothing more than a heartless trick of manipulation meant to secure Raoul's freedom.
Sadly, she had watched his body rack with sobs. After all the cruelty he had endured, he would never be able to trust in anyone's compassion for him, least of all hers. No matter her intentions, after what she had done he would never see her as more than a ruthless woman with a gift for manipulation. After all the rejection he had endured in his past, he had at last dared to open his heart to her, and she had crushed it mercilessly. He would never forgive her.
As this dreadful realization dawned, the shouts of the mob had become unnervingly close. They seemed to break him from his anguish. He had turned to Raoul, "Take her. Forget me. Forget all of this." And with that, he had cast her away from him forever. She had stood dumbly for a moment, unable to speak. Hearing Raoul's urgent cries, she had returned to her senses, quickly undoing his ropes. In his relief, he had crushed her to him in an embrace that only served to confirm that which her Angel already believed. He had cursed them, screaming at them to leave him in peace.
At first, Christine's fear and Raoul's insistence had forced her to obey, but she had found herself unable to leave. She could not abandon her Angel without at least trying to make him understand that he would always have a place in her heart, even if he refused to believe it. Without taking time to think what she would do, she had ignored Raoul's insistent pleas and had waded back through the water to find her Angel. When she saw him sitting lost in his misery before his music box, pity and shame had overwhelmed her and denied her the power of speech.
Then he had seen her and the agony in his eyes had been unbearable as he realized what she had come to do. Softly, he had sung to her in an almost child-like whisper, "Christine, I love you." It had been all she could do to place her ring in his hand, closing his fingers over it tightly and covering them briefly with her own. It would have to be enough. She hoped he would understand that in giving him the ring she was giving him forever a part of herself. She wondered now if he would even want it after all that she had done. Still unable to speak in her anguish, and she had turned in despair, hurrying to the boat with tears flooding her eyes.
It could never be between them, she reasoned. He knew it and she knew it, but that knowledge did not serve to heal her broken soul. As Raoul rowed silently away, she had turned back then to look at him once more as he stood watching her over the water, singing just for him one last time.For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw his face soften. Then Raoul, mistaking her song as being for him had answered her.Any traces of forgiveness she might have seen evaporated and her Angel's face hardened, but still she had continued to sing for him.
As she slipped out of his sight, she heard his soft voice call after her, "You alone can make my song take flight." And then, in a different voice, one raw with anguish he had cried out, "It's over now, the music of the night!"
His music, his beautiful music was over and it was because of her. She had fallen to her knees sobbing in the boat, and the next thing she remembered, she had awoken in Raoul's carriage.
Christine felt utterly exhausted, as if the effort of remembering all the painful events of that night had drained her of all life. Her head pounded and her eyes had no more tears to cry. But her agony would not cease, as she thought of the words in the newspaper, describing his final moments. Even though she had had no choice but to leave him, she had never imagined that he would stay there, awaiting his fate at the hands of the mob. She had assumed her clever Angel would simply fade into the shadows, as he always had. She had never dreamt that such a powerful force could be destroyed by a chance bullet. Even in her own loneliness, how could she begin to imagine the utter aloneness he had felt in his final moments, with her betrayal so fresh in his memory? He had died as he had lived – no one to comfort him, no arms to hold him, believing himself unloved and unwanted.
Christine closed her eyes. The searing pain in her heart could only mean one thing, and she could deny it no longer. She loved him. She had always loved him. Her emotion for him had been so deep it had overwhelmed her, making her blind to it until this moment. It was not the compassion and pity as she had thought it before; it was the heart-rending need of a woman for the man she loved. In her youth and inexperience, she had not recognized it for what it was until this very minute. God, how she loved him! Now that she was aware of it, the magnitude of it hit her full force until she felt she would drown. Her head dropped into her hands and she wept bitterly long into the night.