I could almost feel my chest rising and falling quicker and quicker with each passing second of the dream. "This is the choice! This is the point of no return!" the Phantom's growling voice called out. There I was, standing helpless on the shore while the ghost yanked once more on the noose to remind me of what would happen should I refuse him. "You try my patience, make your choice!" he barked. In reality, I had gathered up the courage to make an intelligent decision and kiss him… but in the dream, my feet seemed to be locked to the ground and my body formed into stone. "As you wish," were the bitter words that echoed in my ears for what seemed like ages. Raoul's eyes screamed desperate songs of fear, and his mouth drawn wide as if to say something… but the pressure on his throat refused to allow it. My cheeks burned as hot tears ripped down them and onto the pillow where I dreamed. My breath grew short and unsteady as the final scene played out. With a swift thrust of his arm, the rope tightened to its extreme, the knot lifted, and all I could hear was a sharp swallow as Raoul took his last breath. Yes, his last breath… my heart burned and hammered against the restrains of my chest with the sight of him. The noose was cutting vicious red burns under his chin, and his eyes were closed. There he hung, almost crucified with his hands still tied to the gate. I couldn't see his eyes anymore, his eyelids had curtained them; and so it should be, for if I could not see his eyes, I could not see life in him. And there was none.
My entire face was washed with warm tears as my eyes shot open and I caught my breath. Frantically, just to be sure, my eyes darted around the room to make sure that Raoul was still near. Indeed he was, and apparently I had woken him. A concerned expression darkened his face as he cupped my chin with his hand, wiping away my tears. Desperately, and very unladylike, I threw myself onto him. Wrapping my arms tightly around his neck and grasping at his hair, the comfort of his bare skin against mine was intensifying my fear of his loss. Here, in the warmth of his naked shoulder, I sobbed loudly, crying out all the tears that I had in me. No words needed to be spoken, for no words would ever comfort me in the same way that his protective embrace could.
Bless her heart, Meg was all prepared the next morning; hair brushed and tied up, dress cleaned (as best she could), and shoes waiting by the door. I felt a little light-headed from dehydration as I slowly made my way down the stairs. It stunned me as I turned the corner to see Meg completely ready when I was in a simple nightgown that I had thrown on (it was the nearest thing to the bed). Not only was she ready, she was preparing breakfast! My eyes grew wide in pleasant surprise as I witnessed her pulling out a loaf of bread from its brown paper bag and cutting the butter into thin rectangles.
"Good morning!" I said cheerfully. She turned her head quickly towards me and smiled. Suddenly her cheeks went red as she realized what she was doing. "Oh, I'm sorry, Christine, I hope you don't mind!" she cried as her hand relaxed to lower the knife she was holding. "No, of course not! Do whatever you need, everyone needs breakfast," I exhorted, laughing a little at her shame. She giggled a little as well, smiling a warm smile as she sighed. "Especially today." Suddenly she turned to face me with a wondering brow. "How was your night? Your eyes are terribly red," she pointed out, still continuing to slice the bread into perfectly equal portions. "I'll be alright," I coaxed. I knew she wouldn't believe me, but she wasn't one to argue. I stepped across the pool of sunlight that hovered on the floor towards that famous chaise. Lazily, I lay down on it, using my elbow on the armrest to keep my torso upright. I sighed, and my eyes closed a little bit in contemplation. It was going to be an interesting day.
It was a quiet ride to the opera house, in Raoul's carriage; quiet, save for a moment taken to pray for our fates. I tried to be strong in holding back my tears as the three of us leaned in, bowed our heads and clasped each other's hands. However, our mind-settling ritual was interrupted when the carriage came to a jerking stop. I took a deep breath as we all took in the sight before us; the opera house, which had lost all luminosity that it had previously possessed, was severely charred, denying the marble pillars their original glory. Raoul was the first to step out, lending a hand to us ladies as we also exited the black carriage.
Raoul talked to the guards of the building, and then gestured that it was all right for Meg and I to enter. The courtyard was laced with all sorts of ashes and opera programs that were now being tossed around by the wind. Meg ran ahead of us, pulling the blackened main door as far open as she could. "Come on, we must hurry!" she called. Slowly I realized that I had subconsciously began to slow down, with hopes that it might prolong the wait before entering that haunted building.
We finally entered the building, meeting Meg in the foyer of the once-grand opera. We agreed that the best path to take was through my old dressing room, and not the way that Madame Giry had guided Raoul to take. We couldn't risk any more trapdoors falling out beneath us. Strangely, as we approached the old dressing room, it appeared to be untouched by the fire. The door had seen its share of smoke damage, but the rest of the room had not been corrupted by ash or charring. At this, I carefully led Raoul and Meg to the mirror on the far side of the room. I drew my fingers across it, pressing against it. "If only I could remember how he brought me through here…" I muttered, when suddenly Meg slapped her hand on my shoulder. "I know how," she said, eyes focused on the mirror. She dug her fingers into one of the creases between the mirror and the frame, and pulled it with a little effort. Raoul seemed stunned. "How did you know to do that?" he questioned. "Once, right after Christine disappeared, I suppose that he had left the mirror partially open, and I ventured into it," she explained, a hint of shame powdering her sweet voice. "My maman didn't allow me to go very far, however… and now… now I know why," she said somberly. I smiled weakly at her, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see Raoul stepping through the mirror's opening. "Raoul, wait!" I cried out. Meg and I both jogged to meet him, me lifting my dress as I did so. It was, perhaps, not a smart choice to have worn a long dress, but it was all I had.
As we somewhat blindly guided ourselves through the dark tunnels, two voices rang in my ears. I could not hear the words, but I recognized one to be the usually sharp voice of Madame Giry. Her voice was still stern but had lost some of its authority as we seemed to draw closer and closer. "We must be near," I pointed out. "Why do you say that?" Raoul inquired, now holding one of the many torches that lined the tunnels. "Do you not hear those voices?" Meg stopped and froze, attempting to hear what I was hearing. "There are no voices, Christine," she said, an alienated expression on her face. Oh, how confused I was! Raoul stopped as well, turning to face me. "Try to ignore them," he said in a compassionate tone. I knew he could not hear them, but now I realized that it was the Phantom playing with my mind. Raoul took my hand and smiled at me as we continued down the seemingly never-ending tunnel.
The voices in my head grew louder as we progressed. This time, they were joined by my own deafening thoughts, reminders of how I always used to sing "he'll always be there, singing songs in my head, he'll always be there, singing songs in my head…" It frightened me to know that the Phantom knew we were near. And very near we were, for we had finally reached the lake, but there was no gondola. "Looks like your new dress is going to get a little wet, Christine," Raoul noted. But how could I care when we were almost at the place where we would find Madame Giry… and the Phantom?