Feeling rather joyous that night after my discussion and revelation with Charlotte, I decided to explore more of the immense Opera House. I still had over an hour before I was to begin dressing the cast for tonight's performance, and sitting in my room waiting for the hour to arrive seemed a rather tedious task. I set out on my exploration, determined to become more familiar with my new home. I admired the grandiose staircase in the main entrance, and the hauntingly beautiful, golden statues that loomed over the theater walls. Delving myself backstage, I began to realize just how large this place was. Hallways and passageways entwined together, so, so many of them! I marveled at the intricacies upon which this theater was erected. How difficult it must have been to plan and construct such a building! After milling around a few more areas, I decided that I was to be needed soon in costuming. I took one last glance at the room I was currently in, it seemed a storage room for costumes of the older productions, and exited, carefully shutting the door behind me. I whirled around to find a man staring at me. I let out a cry of surprise.
"You seem to be lost, Mademoiselle," he said, glancing around nervously.
I recognized him as one of the stage hands, though we had never been properly introduced.
"No, I was just returning to the stage. It must be near performance time." I breathed, the adrenaline still pumping through my veins from the shock of finding out I was not alone in this seemingly deserted hallway.
"Ah, yes it is. And you would be essential to the preparations, how?"
"Forgive me, Monsieur! I am Alessandra deCapriana, part of the costuming department," I explained, offering him my hand. He did not reply with his title, but rather seized my hand, placing his crude lips upon my skin. He glanced around once more, casting a sinister look over my features. Feeling uncomfortable, I forced a polite smile and attempted to move past him. His hand grabbed my arm, shoving me forcefully into a wall.
"Why leaving so soon, Mademoiselle? Certainly you have a few minutes to spare…" he growled into my face, I grimaced, whiskey was thick on his breath. His large arms pinned me helplessly under his weight. I began to scream, but a large hand covered my mouth silencing me, while the other pulled out a large knife. I gasped, surely he did not mean to… Running the cold steel against the tender column of my neck, I whimpered, "I promise, this will only take a minute," he spat. He pressed his forehead onto mine, his breathing becoming ragged. I felt him began to rip my blouse open, felt his hand run under my skirt. I closed my eyes, shutting myself out from the world. I knew what he planned to do, and slowly began to accept it. It did not surprise me that I did not fight back immediately, I had, after all, been in this situation many times. When I had felt uncomfortable with a client's preference, I simply cleared my mind. All thought, all emotion vanished.
Trance-like, I stared at the rafters above me, waiting for the deed to be done. My focus was not broken, but I slowly became more aware of the rafters, now swinging with urgency. A figure caught my eye, but before I could identify it as anything, it was gone, leaving the gentle swish of the ropes swaying through the air. Suddenly, there was an immense pressure being thrust upon my frame. Entering back into the realm of reality, I looked back down toward the man. His heavy body now slumped upon mine, his eyes vacant and lifeless, a rope bound around his neck. It took me a couple of moments to realize at last, this man was dead! Disgusted I shoved him off of me, his body falling to the ground with a sickening thud. I stood, clinging to the wall, unable to move, unable to speak. What had happened?
"Mademoiselle, are you hurt?" These words shattered through the eerie silence. My eyes slowly turned to the figure in front of me.
My mouth contorted into what must have been a horrible shape, the breath knocked out of me. I felt nauseous, faint. I wanted to collapse, to forget this night ever happened. The figure, the thing standing in front of me was wearing a mask. A mask! My mind reeled, all sense instructed me to run, to get as far away from Him as possible. But something made me stay, made my feet stick to the ground. Was it fear? Was it shock? Was it curiosity?
Here I was, in this vacant hallway, with none other than The Phantom of the Opera.