I do not own Phantom of the Opera, although I wish I did.
Though a Rose May Fade…
Chapter IV- Curiosity Killed the Cat
Christine now faced the Opera Populaire… or what was left of it. It was just ashes now, hardly considered to be a structure. Within those doors was what seemed to be a ghost town, or ghost house rather for the place was abandoned. The stage was no longer looking like a stage. The beauty of the entire building had faded away all in one night. It was all her fault. Madame Giry would never greet her again and Meg would never stay by her side as her loyal companion where they would play jokes on Carlotta. No more masquerades or plays or arguments amongst who would be playing the lead when Carlotta would leave in a huff. No more music of the night…
The phantom is not dead… is he? If he is I could never find a way to ever forgive myself for all the horror I have caused… Christine thought.
She ran to her old room when she had starred in Hannibal. Her mirror there was now shattered to pieces. It tore her heart to think of what could have happened. She passed through the mirror to find the lair now in shambles, the candles and candelabras broken or fallen to the floor. She saw the lake; the once clear water now was murky and filled with mud. She trudged further until she reached that piece of land she wanted to see once more so badly.
Please…
She searched through his former home finding nothing, nobody. She was all alone and it was all her fault. She looked through a little room where she saw a dead rose wrapped in a black satin bow lying on the ground. She picked it up and stroked its dry petals. It looked so perfect before it died. She felt sympathy for the rose. She felt like a beautiful rose that had been dying just as this one was. She kept on searching through the lair without success. She missed seeing the broken candleholder and tripped over it. In fear, she clutched onto a curtain, hoping it would save her fall, but it didn't, and she hit the ground with a small thud. The curtain she held ripped apart, revealing a broken mirror and a passageway coming from it. A sudden rush of hope ran through her as she stepped inside. Curiosity has now killed the cat.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" Christine called softly. No one answered.
She had now been through the passageway for hours, not once finding the exit. She looked behind her but knew she was too far in to back out. The heels she had worn now made blisters upon her feet. She was losing energy fast. Looking around her she wondered whether she had already passed by this part. She wished for better. She prayed for help and guidance.
She could just imagine the faces of the de Chagny family looming at her, their eyes sneering at her. She could just picture the look on their faces if they could just see where the hell she had ended up now. Ah, how screwed up life can be. She thought about how much she had gained all because of her angel of music and how much she had lost because of her angel of music. She had been the "it" girl with men at her feet bringing her thousands of roses a day while other girls had this immense desire to be her on that stage with that voice. Then she had lost it all. It wasn't that she was upset that she wasn't the "it" girl anymore. She was mostly upset that she had wanted so badly to be that girl that she risked everything for it. She did of course get what she wanted, yes, with Raoul as her lover and a great amount of fame and glory. But it was all a joke, a sham. Her marriage was a fluke. Since when was she still "Little Lotte" anyway? She had grown up since then. Little Lotte was gone from the moment she heard her angel sing. Why? She knew that somehow the Opera Ghost had changed her incredibly. She was not the same. She never would be the same. She wondered too if Raoul had given her an empty promise, a lie. Would he really always be by her side forever and for always? He hadn't even taken the time of day to say a simple "hello" to her every single morning or an "I love you" or ask how her day has been. Hadn't he realized that maybe her life wasn't doing so great? That maybe she needed her "faithful" husband by her side? He was never there for her in her greatest time of need.
She wondered too if Raoul had ever thought this marriage to be a great big pile of crap as well and took it to heart. Maybe he had slept with so many other women. Maybe that was why he was gone all the time. Wouldn't every woman just die to sleep with the Vicomte de Chagny? He was a rich man. Of course, his family wanted a rich woman, daughter of some kind of noble to fill his "needs" rather than a stupid prostitute. Christine shuddered at the very thought. She hadn't ever been touched before. She still was a virgin. Why did everything have to fall apart so quickly? Why?
More time passed and Christine felt she would faint from exhaustion and heat. There was barely any breeze to soothe her. Her feet ached from her heels. The shoes were given to her from Raoul. At the thought, she chucked them backwards. Her dress made the heat seem almost unbearable. She could barely breathe from her tight corset that was suffocating her. Why do women have to wear such things? She needed to find a place to go and fast… but where to go? She had gone too far to ever return and yet she felt she was too far from the exit too until she saw a light. She wondered what this light could be. She walked towards it and carefully pushed the half- open door aside. What she saw inside was more than she could ever handle…
