DISCLAIMER: Please refer to Chapter Two
She woke to infuriating music that morning. It sounded as though someone was jumping up and down on top of the organ. She heard objects crashing onto the floor and heard Erik cursing at the top of his lungs. What on earth is he doing?
She figured that now was a better time as ever to brave walking again. She felt much better though. She concluded that the herbal potion must have done better than she had expected it too. As she pulled her covers back, she felt as though she was able to move her body to a more upright position. She looked in front of the bed and noticed a large dressing screen adjacent to a large wooden dress closet.
Finally stabilizing her legs and standing upright, she made her way towards the wooden dress closet. Using the other furniture to keep her balance, she managed to reach the beautiful carved doors of the dress closet. She opened them with as much care as a small child, slightly ravaging them off of their hinges while attempting to keep her balance.
As she peered inside, she noticed no less than twenty dresses hung neatly in a color-coordinated row. At the foot of the floor of the dress closet, he also noticed five pairs of dainty boots and party slippers which perfectly matched the breathtaking frocks.
After scanning them for a bit, she noticed her own blue dress hanging apart from the others. Its sleeve has been torn and it was covered in dirt and wood particles. Cecilia's face dropped when she came to the understanding that her favorite dress, the one her father had given her during her last birthday, was ruined.
Knowing that she could not wear her own dress, she reached for a pretty green one hanging in the closet. After looking over it, she found that there was no way she was going to be able to wear this dress. I was not only way to long for her rather short stature, but also the upper torso area appeared to have little or no fabric enough to cover her own pride. Whoever wore these garments must have been a ballerina.
Concluding that there was nothing proper for her to wear, she fetched a satin black robe from the hanger and attempted to slip it onto her wounded figure while still trying to keep her balance.
Erik had not slept since Christine's departure. No place felt sanctuary enough to heal his ravaged heart. As much as he tried to put the pain form his mind, the worse it became. In fact, it appeared that the only thing able to fully take his focus and concentration was Cecilia.
Not wishing to wake her and beg her to talk with him, he decided it was wise to purge he thoughts onto a composition. The first few hours went quite well. He droned on making as many mournful and bewailing pieces as possible. It was only when he ran out of parchment, when he came into contact with something that ultimately made his whole world crash down on him once again.
He opened the drawer to his desk and there sat the perfect ring he gave to Christine. Its diamonds sparkled like the tears that began to roll down his unmasked face. He remembered all the plans he had made for their wedding. He had planned to accomplish the most perfect proposal until pretty boy Raoul came in the picture. He was going to take her to the very top of the opera house by Apollo's Lyre. Once he had seen the first snowflake on her face, he would get on one knee and tell her that life without her was no longer worth living. Upon placing the sparking ring on her finger and hearing her simple answer "yes", he would hurry her down to the depths of the catacombs and show her what he had done for her. He would show her the dresses, the decadent room, he would show her everything. He would tell her that anything she wanted would be hers.
The tears were flowing heavily now. The only thing he could think of was her perfect face. He could imagine her large hazel eyes piercing his inner soul, her long thick eyelashes batting with incessant feminine flirtation and seduction, or her pouty pink lips as she spoke the words of his music. He remembered how inventively she would stare at him while he taught her something new. He recollected the stammered breathing that escaped from those lips when he would bring his arms from behind her to show her how to breath from her diaphragm…not her lungs.
Every precious moment spent flashed before his eyes as though death were showing him his last glimpses of life before eternal silence. Space and time seemed to become one. She had been just a girl, just a diminutive child in need of something in her life. She needed him, and that is what precisely got him hooked. Surely, if she was just another chorus girl or ballerina, he would have not subsided to her charms. Even then, before understanding turned into love, he knew that life without her would no longer matter. He savored every sweet commanding moment that he had spent with her. She was his first love. She was his only love.
Erik gasped as he looked up to see the pretty blond staring back at him. Trying to hide his face in order to spare her any further fear and anxiety, he fell back over the drawers that littered the floor.
"Oh, Erik. I am sorry! I did not mean to startle you," she declared as she hobbled towards him.
Upon reaching his obviously aching body, he pushed her helping hand away from him.
"No, don't look. It will only frighten you," he whispered as he began to lift his body from the pile of rubble on the floor.
"Do not be so sure, Erik. I guarantee you that your face, no matter how terrible, could never frighten me."
"Oh…" he began sarcastically, "how is it you think so?"
"Because my father's entire face was deformed."