A/N This is based on a theory of mine that the Phantom was the father of Madame Gerri's child. It's a bit of a drabble so humor me please. As always, reviews are most appreciated.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything even remotely like the plot, characters, and music of The Phantom of the Opera, why the hell would I be writing this!
I saved him. Brought him to the Opera house, away from the cruelty of the world. And for this he loved me, oh yes, but sadly not as I had hoped. I was blinded. Blinded by his genius, his art, his soul, his passion. And for the longest time I had hoped, no hope, that his passion was for me. Indeed, it was, if only for a short time. He is a man after all, and I am the only woman who has ever shown him any kindness. Lord, even his own mother hated him. I should have known better, but I suppose that I did not want to. And so we started a romance. He loved me, and I would never love any man but him. We bore a child. I kept the father of my child a secret, not even she knows, though I suppose she must suspect. Otherwise, for seven years my life was utterly perfect. And then I met Christine. How I had pitied her, fatherless and alone. I took her to the opera house, much like the phantom. He was immediately drawn to her, but I thought it was due to their similar circumstances. But then Christine grew into a woman more beautiful then I could have imagined. God, how I sometimes wish I had never brought her here. She stole my love from me, and didn't even give him her love in return. He tried to explain to me how he still loved me, but it was a different type of love, and I pretended I had understood. Sometimes I despised her, yet she struck up a close friendship with my daughter and I came to love her. So did he, and no wonder. She is beautiful, youthful, and talented. I am older than he, and in all truth they are the better match. Yet she broke his heart time after time. He said he needed someone to see the true beauty in him. I suppose he never thought that I had seen it in him all along. He disappeared, taking my heart with him. I am old now, my daughter is married, and Christine is dead. Some say he is dead but I know better. For as long as he is alive I can feel him, tugging on my heart. How I wish he would sing for me again, or hold me, but alas, I know that is impossible. Christine took his heart with her to her grave. And he will carry mine with him as well, and into the next life, for all eternity.
A/N so how was it? Review please!