Disclaimer: I don't own it. It has been disclaimed.
I love her! Does that mean nothing? I love her!
But so do I, thought Erik angrily, Only that could never mean anything, not to Raoul, and not to Christine. My love is only a grotesque mockery of real emotions, a monster's ridiculous attempt to be human. It is nothing, and to discard it meant nothing. I was nothing to her. Nothing!
He viciously kicked at the remains of his violin, now only wooden shards of scrollwork, then sank to his knees to clutch the wreckage.
Nothing means anything without her. It is good that she is gone. She could only be a perfect angel when she was with me, but she would have withered like a cut rose, lost her petals one by one, and the vase which once complemented her beauty would be empty and pointless.
He threw a crystal vase at the ground, and it shattered, glass shards mixing with dried, dead rose petals.
Empty, I am empty. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't think. I'm always hearing her voice. There's nothing left of me but love for her, and that is nothing. Nothing is real, nothing is alive. Nothing was real until I met her, and now that I have, I can't go back to that cold void of emotion.
Christine stood hesitantly at the edge of the lake, dripping with frigid water. After a year in the company of Raoul and his shallow socialite friends, she had come back for Erik, to ask his forgiveness.
Everything was so empty without Erik, she thought, Everything seemed so unreal, so pointless. Faraway, like a dream. And now I have finally come back to Erik, and everything will be the way it was supposed to. But I expected Erik to be sad, perhaps a little angry, but he is completely consumed by rage. He's shaking and sobbing, and lashing out at random things. Everything's so destroyed! The work of the mob? Or Erik? Erik's violin! Surely he would not have destroyed it! It was the only thing that gave him comfort, besides…me. What did I do to him? He hasn't even noticed me. It's not like him. What if he doesn't forgive me? I wouldn't blame him, but I don't know what I'll do. Nothing was real until I met him, and now I have I can't go back, never to feel this love again. I can never go back.
"Erik!" she called, "please! I love you!"
And now I'm hearing her again. I'll turn around and there will be only forlorn shadows there. Always hearing what I long for her to say. When she left me, couldn't she have the mercy to leave? I have to turn. Just to see. She won't be there, but I have to.
Resolving himself to lose her again, Erik turned. To his shock, Christine was there, dressed in white, her black hair gleaming, a few tendrils curling against her perfect face, her skin pale and radiant, her wet dress clinging to her curves.
Exactly the way I imagined her coming back to me, coming to hear my plea for forgiveness, and accepting it so kindly…Have I gone mad? Or madder? Just the way I imagined her, except now, she looks so solid. If I'm mad, I think I want to be so. If I talk to her, surely this dream, springing as she does from my maddened brain, will forgive me the way the true Christine should never have to. I can just sink into this happy madness, …until one day it is gone, and I am alone again. No! I cannot feel that again. Will this delusion never leave me? Will it always haunt the corner of my eye? Will it always speak those words? I cannot live like this, I cannot!
He heard me, he jumped when I spoke. Why then, does he not turn around? He does not forgive me! He will not even look upon my cruel face!
"Erik, forgive me! Please, forgive me!"
My madness dares to think what even my happiest imaginings have not, that Christine would ask my forgiveness? That I could do something to ease her heart? I cannot live like this! Is this my punishment for Mazanderan? For surely I need Christine as a dying man needs water! I have been punished for my sins since the day I was born! No…I deserve this punishment, but I cannot take it. Anything but this! Please, rest! A moment when I do not know who I am! Or an eternity….
Erik is picking up a shard from the glass vase. Is he going to throw it at me? Does he hate me so much? No, he is holding it in both his hands, clasped together. Why? Surely it must be cutting his hands, he's clenching his fists so tightly. He is so angry with me he doesn't even care! No, not angry, only sad. Perhaps he will forgive me after all?
That hallucination is like Christine in every way. Look how it makes no move to stop me. It seems relieved, even a little happy! I am glad I could do something to ease her heart.
Where does all the wine come from? Erik's hand? Erik's wrist…no! Oh god, no! Erik! No! Not now! Please forgive me! I love you! What have I done to you? No! Don't do this! A bandage! Anything! Oh god!
She holds my hands now, with paper pressed against my wrist. She tries to save me? Have I not suffered enough to satisfy her? Is she not avenged for…what? It's so hard to think. I don't want to. I want to die without knowing how I hurt her. I want to die knowing I made her a little happier by leaving her alone. I want to die knowing something I did was for the right. It's hard to see now. Just me and her, floating in the darkness. She's so much solider than anything else.
It's been…how long? It's always night in Erik's house. I've heard distant singing, Sunday mass from the streets above, twice…at least two weeks. Haven't moved. The Angel would be mad…he says to eat and drink three times a day. He'll forgive me though. He always does. He always seems madder at himself than at me. Strange how I don't feel hungry. Don't feel anything really…can't feel my legs. Can't see far either. Just me and him, floating in the darkness. Who is he? I can't think. I loved him, though. I'll ask the Angel. I can hear him singing in the walls now…