Tentatively, I poked out my head from behind my hiding place.
Only footprints in the snow were left behind.
Meekly, I edged my way around the gargoyle and on tip-toed walked towards the door, but I stopped.
The crumpled rose still lay forgotten on the ground. The black satin ribbon shone in the moonlight. I knelt down, untied the ribbon and held it in my hand as I stared at it, almost in a trance.
The pain in the Phantoms voice still rang in my ears as I stared at the small silky ribbon in my fingers. It was still warm from his touch. The Phantoms almost broken form lingered in my mind. Inside, I felt something ache. Like a sense of longing, like the bitter-sweet pain of...
My breath stopped and died in my throat. No. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible.
I could NOT be in love with the Phantom of the Opera!
But the more I thought about the mornful song the Phantom had sung, the almost silent sobs that had wracked his proud form, the true and unaltered anguish that he felt (which I knew all too well of from first-hand-experience), the more my heart ached for him. I knew what kind of pain the Phantom was feeling, oh, yes, I knew it all too well...Perhaps I could help him. Perhaps I could show him that he wasn't truly alone...
But suddenly, Madame Giry's worn and flushed face appeared before me, and brought me out of my thoughts.
"Arielle! What in Gods name are you doing out here? Your lips are blue!" she exclaimed in her heavy accent. She clasped my hand and promptly drug me inside.
As we were embraced by the sweet warmth of the theater, Madame Giry noticed the ribbon in my hand. She found the far-away look in my eyes and stared long and hard into my unwavering gaze. "Do.. Do you know what you are getting yourself into, child?" she asked me quietly.
I looked away finally, "No.. I don't.. But I have to try, don't I? I.. I think I could help him.. I could love him, if given the chance.." I murmured softly as I returned my eyes to Madame Giry's pensive face.
"Dear girl, you do not even know his NAME.." she started feebly.
"But I would if you told it to me! Along with everything else you know about him. And I KNOW you do. So don't try to tell me you don't know anything about him.." I hissed as I eyed the people around us, to make sure no one was eaves-dropping on our conversation. She was the one who had always found the notes he left, the one who insisted that his instructions be followed.
Madame Giry seemed to close into her self, her expression as blank as a brick wall before me. My nerve lessened, but then slowly, Madame Giry nodded, agreeing to tell me all she knew.
I let out a breath of relief and my heart seemed to hum, it was beating so fast. The air around me seemed to be charged with anticipation and with possibility.
As soon as we reached Madame Giry's room, she began The Phantoms tragic tale. She had gone with her peers from the Ballerina Academy to see a traveling gypsy group. There were many strange sights to see, many distorted and bizarre creates and beings. But none was so tragic as the 'Devils Child'. It was a wraith of a boy, nothing more than a dirty skeleton of a human being with a ragged burlap sack on his head with holes to see out of. The boy was beaten and then his marred and mangled face was shown off to a cruelly jeering crowd. All he was doing was making a music box! But soon, karma took its toll on the beastly keeper of the boy, as he was strangled to death by his captive.
Madame Giry freed the boy and hid him in the Opera Populaire. He had been there ever since. The boys name was Erik, but no one knew him by that name.. Only as O.G.: Opera Ghost. He was an artistic genius. Erik could compose, design, and engineer an entire play by himself.
My respect and concern for Eric only grew as the tale continued on. What a horrible past he had suffered through! And now, I had seen the great man he had grown to be and my heart brimmed with awe and pride, that he had overcome his abuse.
'If only I could show that same strength when I had faced my inner demons...' I thought as I mentally revisited my hard past. But I pushed such thoughts away and tried to concentrate on Madame Giry's hushed words.
When she finished the story, Madame Giry looked at me curiously. For a moment I didn't know why- until I felt something tickle my cheek. Tears were running down my face in tiny streams.
I wiped them away with the back of my hand. But then, such a feeling of hopeless despair washed over me that I wilted in my seat on Madame Giry's bed. "Such a daunting task.. For everyone with eyes or ears knows that Erik only has eyes for Christine.. With her undeniable beauty and angelic voice, how in the world can I compare, let alone catch Erik's eye long enough for him to notice me?" I sighed as I laid my chin on my hands.
Madame Giry reached from her seat and patted my arm in an attempt to comfort me. "It will not be an easy task, Arielle. You must have to wait and have the patience of a saint to reach Eric the way he is now, but.." she trailed off as she got up and went to her closet. She took a moment to find whatever she was looking for, but when she turned around and revealed her treasure, I gasped. "But.. It can be done."
Before me was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. The bust was a slate grey crushed velvet material and it tied up in the back like a corset with a grey silk ribbon. The skirt fell from the waist in a black cascading river that pooled outward beautifully, the satin fabric the color of deep black midnight. "ME? Wear THAT! GOODNESS! I could never! Im just a poor violinist! I-" I started to object, but Madame Giry silenced me with her hand on my mouth.
"You're the hardest worker this Opera house has ever seen, Arielle. You deserve this and so much more, my dear. Take it. There is a Masquerade Ball coming up and you WILL wear this and he WILL notice you. I bet my life on it." Madame Giry told me with a mothering smile.
I leapt up and hugged the woman who I had to come to love as my surrogate mother tightly. "Thank you, thank you so much. With your help, I know I can do this.."