Chapter Six
The Set Room
Maria stopped at the end of the corridor, when she saw the mirror. She slowly slid the panel aside and climbed out of the tunnel. She wanted to go back, but responsibilities to herself kept her from it. She put the glass into place and exited the dressing room.
She crept silently into her room and released the tears that she had been holding. She sat down on her bed, sobbing harder. Memories were flooding back to her. She thought of Erik's face, her father, and the hospital.
After her father's death Maria had been forced to stay in the hospital where he died. She had hated it. She had seen people die and heard their painful screams. Many nights she wondered down to the burn hall where the screams were the loudest. She had befriended an old woman, who had taught her how to sew. The woman had been burned when her home had caught fire, and she could not get out. When Maria had looked at Erik's face, it was the old woman she saw along with her father.
The thoughts of her sordid past were interrupted by a knock at her door. She quickly wiped away her tears and straightened herself up.
"Come in," she muttered.
The door opened slowly and Madame Giry stepped inside. Maria exhaled a breath that she had forgotten she was holding. Madame Giry crossed the room quickly and grabbed the girl in a gentle hug.
"Are you all right?" she asked, stroking Maria's matted hair.
"I'm fine," Maria barely managed to reply.
"Meg has been worried sick, and so has that young man."
"Raoul?"
"Yes."
Maria pushed her friend away roughly. She ran her hands through her hair angrily. "You didn't tell him. Please, tell me, that you didn't tell him where I was."
"No. I told him that you had been detained with the show."
Maria's face whitened. She had completely forgotten about her duties as costume mistress. She sat down heavily on the bed. She slowly buried her face in her hands.
"I'm never going to see him again," Maria said faintly.
Madame Giry sat down next to her and took her by the shoulders. "Perhaps, it is for the best."
Maria looked up. She could feel rage growing insider her. No one had seen what she had seen in that room. She stood up and headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" Madame Giry asked.
"I don't know," Maria answered honestly.
She knew deep down in her heart where she wanted to go, but it was too soon to go back. She slowly walked out into the empty hallway.
Her feet kept leading her toward the dressing room and the mirror, yet her mind drove her to the costume room. She had to get started soon, or she would be too late in getting finished. She sat down next to her sewing box and looked at the daunting task ahead.
She pulled many of the old costumes from their storage trunks to make new additions and alterations. She was working on Meg's costume when the door flew open. Maria looked up, startled. Raoul was standing in the door, panting like a rabid dog. He rushed in and grabbed Maria up in his arms.
"So this is where you've been trapped all night," he said.
"Yes," Maria lied.
"Well come on," Raoul took her arm. "I've come to rescue you."
"Raoul, I can't," Maria turned away. "Look at what all I have to do."
Raoul looked around the room. There was only one finished costume. He then looked over at Maria. She was pale and seemed so worn.
"Are you well?" he asked abruptly.
Maria turned with a strange glint in her eyes. Raoul couldn't tell if it was anger or shock at his question. She sat down again, looking at the floor.
"I'm just tired," she sighed.
Raoul knelt next to her. He gently pulled her face toward his. Maria looked at him and put on a fake smile. He slowly reached up and kissed her cheek.
"You get some rest," he whispered.
Maria nodded a little. Raoul stood and walked out. Maria picked up a spool of thread and threw it furiously. It landed with a loud thud against the opposite wall. She cursed herself and her heart. She slowly dropped her head into her hands and cried again.
The weeks passed with a flash. Maria spent every waking hour in the costume room, working. She had managed to see Erik only once, and it was only for a brief second. He had sent her letters, which she had replied to, giving her explanation to why she couldn't come to him. Raoul had made it his mission to visit her. It was nice, but he wasn't the one who she longed to see. She held out a thin hope that one day Erik would come and sing to her as she worked.
As Maria cut the last thread on a button, she felt a smile of satisfaction creep across her lips. She sighed happily and took in all her work. At least fifteen new costumes had been made, and ten had been altered to look new. She stood up to stretch and heard the soft sound of humming. She quickly dashed into the hallway. There was no one there. She looked up into the rafters, knowing how Erik loved to hide in the shadows they provided. This time he wasn't there. She started to walk to her room and noticed a note taped to the costume room doorframe. She tore it off the frame and opened it. She was surprised when she saw the words.
The set room, was all that it said.
Maria kept looking at it. She didn't think the handwriting was Erik's or Raoul's. She bit her lower lip, thinking. She quickly walked to her room to change from her work dress. She emerged from room dressed in a white silk blouse and a plain, dark blue skirt. She walked quickly to the set room.
Erik watched Maria move down the long passage toward the set room. He wasn't sure why she was going there. He climbed out of his hiding place and found the note that she had dropped. He opened it and read the three words. He quickly threw it aside and chased after her. His mind was racing with angry thoughts. Hundreds of people could have written that letter, but only one person entered his mind: that little boy, who pretended to be a man. He moved a like a jungle cat after his prey as he perused Maria. The shadows hid him from anyone who passed as he moved.
Suddenly Erik stopped. He turned back to the path where he had come. The letter was not his, nor was it the boy's. He had forgotten that he had seen Carlotta place the note on the doorframe. He cursed the air and his error. He would deal with the meddling diva later. He had to find Maria, now. He quickly turned back and rushed through the rafters, not caring if someone saw him.
Maria looked up at hearing something move above her. She only saw dark shapes and turned back to the task at hand. She slowly walked toward the set room door that now stood in sight. Then she looked down and noticed sawdust littered the floor and clung to her skirt. She inhaled deeply and then began to cough. She caught her breath and reached for the door.
"Erik?" Maria asked the air softly as she pushed the door open.
There was no answer. Maria looked around, and no one was around. She pulled the heavy door open and walked in with her mouth covered. She started to pull the door closed and stopped. The set room door was never shut. It was a way of letting fresh air stay in the room for the workers. She looked around at all the sets that were being made for Il Muto. She removed her hand from the door to look at a panel when she heard it click close. She turned and rushed to the door. She pulled hard against the knob, but the door was locked! She pulled it with all her might, but it would not budge.
"No," she whimpered. "Please, just open, please."
Maria yanked harder on the knob, but the door would not give. She felt panic growing in her. She knew she had to stay calm though. Tears stung her eyes as she pulled again. Abruptly her foot slipped in the dust; she fell hard against the floor, creating a dust cloud. She started coughing uncontrollably.
"Help!" Maria screamed between the deadly coughs.
She slowly got to her feet, heaving with her cough. She grabbed a beam for support while she caught her breath. Without the fresh air in the room she couldn't clear her throat.
"Help me, please," she screamed hoarsely.
She
tried the door one last time and found that it was still latched. She
banged her fist against the frame, hoping someone would hear her. She
turned away, coughing harder. She spit to help clear her air passage
and tasted the coppery taste of blood. She wiped her lips and
examined her fingers. They were stained with the crimson liquid.
"God, help me," she whispered.
Maria looked at the door and began to cough. This spell would be the end. It would most likely kill her. The harsh echoes of her death sounded through the room. She leaned against the beam to stay up. It was then that she noticed a window.
It was a small circular window that was placed at the back of the room. It wouldn't save her, but it would buy her some time. She moved toward it. She swayed and staggered as she got closer. She went to reach for her salvation when she was seized again by a coughing fit. She took a step and felt her head swoon. Then her world went black.
Erik pushed hard against the door. He hated this part of the opera house. Everything was made to keep him out. He stopped struggling to listen. There was no sound on the other side.
"No," he whispered.
He looked around. There had to be a way to open the door. He then noticed an old piece of wood. It was still in good shape. He picked it up and found it was very sturdy. He returned to the door and immediately started hitting it with the wood, hoping to knock the knob loose. The wood gave away first. He threw the now splintered piece of timber aside. He put his ear to the door and still heard nothing.
"Maria!" He yelled franticly.
Silence answered him, noting more. He glanced around again. There had to be someway to get inside the room. He saw no tools, and he didn't have the time to find the key. He growled in frustration. Finally he did what he had been dreading. He pushed his whole weight against the door with a violent thrust. It gave away easily, sending him to the floor. He looked around and found Maria. She was covered in white, chalk dust. He rushed to her and felt her breathe on his hand. He slowly and carefully picked her up. It was then that he saw blood running out the corner of her mouth and nose. He pulled her close and started toward her room. He never noticed the puddle of life that stained the set room floor.
