In the dream, I continue walking recklessly towards the edge of the roof atop the Opera Garnier.
Instead of fearing the dizzying height, I stand steady and tall while gazing down on the hustling Parisian night without trepidation. The apathetic breeze blowing in my hair cannot stir my motionless stance as, like a neglected gargoyle at Notre Dame, I look sightlessly upon humanity. Yes, I have unearthed my destiny. I am a stone gargoyle. For how can I live as a man without my breath? Here I stand, purged of my soul - a phantom of a man, I chuckle wryly - precariously perched atop the spot on Earth where I looked into her eyes and lost myself.
No rational anxiety causes me to step backwards to safety. As I unemotionally decide my fate, whether to live or to die, I suddenly speculate apathetically as to why it has to be one or the other. Inquisitively, I raise my foot and stand with one foot on the rooftop and one in the grave. Inexplicably, I begin to laugh aloud at my unresolved and irresolute life. A decision must be made. So, I make it. Taking a leap of sheer insanity, as well with a tinge of morbid curiosity, I step off of the roof of the Opera. Instantaneously, my breath lodges in my throat and the wind is completely knocked out of me as the vision of the stones rush up to meet me. A second or two before I hit the ground, I foolishly wince as though to avoid smashing against the pavement. To my utter astonishment, all of a sudden, I am lifted.....I'm.........flying! A hot, scorching strength lifts me up into the Darkness and I spread my arms out wide as my veins throb with an evil adrenaline. Up, up, up to where I originally stepped off the Opera Garnier moments before......
While I stand there catching my breath, I look down upon the pavement with a sneering sense of superiority. I have looked death in the face and, seconds before my life was to be shattered from my body, I was saved. A smug haughtiness that I've never felt before grips me with a power I had only dreamed of. My fists clench as I burn for sweet revenge and even the breeze doesn't dare to move me anymore.
The past weeks with Christine had been a lovely, surreal dream. Instead of enjoying them to the fullest, an odd premonition had snaked its way into my mind. My experience in life had taught me that when things were going well, I must become wary. The axe was usually poised to drop. So during those euphoric, heavenly days, I continually kept vigil for the inevitable. Brooding silences would descend upon me periodically. I attempted desperately to hide these dark episodes from her. Usually, I did my dismal musing while Christine attended rehearsals since I wanted to be ready for any attack or threat. I'd remain ever vigilant inside my box to watch her and I kept lookout over her zealously. Now that I had Christine, honestly as my own, I would fight any menace to the death. The ferocious protectiveness I had always had regarding her had increased ten fold. My attentive, defensive guard up, I hovered over her like a silent shadow - much as I did after I had first heard her sing on the stage those many months ago. I knew that happiness could not endure for very long when I was involved. This awareness was not tinted with any such weakness such as self-pity. It was simply a fact.
As Christine rehearsed a particularly involved aria, I watched from the shadows of Box 5 with a burgeoning adoration and pride. Oh, she had so improved! My breath became non-existent as she sang the familiar love song with a new sensibility and looked slyly up to where I stood. She was......singing to me! Keeping her eyes on the shadows where she must have known I stood, she walked slowly towards the side of the stage while I gazed on her completely enraptured. Wishing I could step out into the gas light and proudly show everyone who heard her angelic voice that she was singing to me - to her betrothed - my heart beat silent messages of reciprocal love and devotion. My lips parted as I made ready to answer her and into my exquisite reverie bellowed the rude, unrefined lament from Piangi as he made the responsive strain. Wincing in the shadows, I rolled my eyes in distaste and looked back towards Christine. As though sensing my mute revulsion, a slight smile upturned her lips and her eyes danced before she arranged her face once again and turned to her star-crossed, ungainly suitor. Sighing inaudibly, I took my pocket watch from my jacket to see how much longer I would be forced to endure such tribulation. Noticing the time, I replaced the watch when I abruptly remembered and froze. DAMN! I had completely forgotten in my preoccupation with sheltering Christine from some unknown perceived threat. If I wasn't there, he would hunt me down like the cursed plague he was since I had not been in attendance for our appointment the previous month. With a longing look at Christine, I surveyed the auditorium scrupulously. If she would be safe anywhere, it would be here with the company surrounding her as they rehearsed. No one would be allowed to get into the auditorium during a rehearsal. Sighing in irritation and placing my Fedora low on my brow, I resigned myself to having to leave and meet with Nadir. Damn it! With a last look to Christine, I blew her a silent kiss and stealthily exited through the hollowed column in my Box. I would meet her in her dressing room after rehearsals were completed. The moment he saw me in the torch light, his dark, ferret-eyes narrowed meditatively. Exhaling in sincere annoyance, I jeered sarcastically, "Oh, what now, Dark Shadow of Gloom?"
Chuckling reluctantly at my dry wit, he kept his eyes on me as I leapt agilely from the bank of the underground lake. In a deceptively casual voice, he called, "It is good to see you, my Illusive Friend. Where were you last month?"
Rolling my eyes in annoyance, I did not answer as I strode past him as if he weren't even there. It was a sort of eccentric ritual that he stood while I sat during my monthly meetings with my self-appointed conscience. Arranging myself as comfortably as I could on the low stone wall, I lifted my long legs to rest upon the wall and crossed my ankles. Glaring at him from underneath the brim of my hat, I replied lightly, "I left you a note."
Nodding, he walked to where I sat and murmured, "Yes, you did. Yes, you did. But it explained nothing. The note merely informed me that you would not be here at the appointed time." Silently leaning against the wall near my feet, he gazed contemplatively at the misty, icy waters of the lake as I waited for the inevitable interrogation. "Where were you, Erik?"
Perversely, I reached over and lightly kicked him with the heel of my boot to shake that smug, knowing demeanor. Having his full attention, I gleefully launched into my explanation, "Well, Nadir. It has been such a long time since I have had the pleasure of torturing some poor soul..........." His wide eyes shot to my shadowed face and I repressed a sinister smile before continuing. I began to describe the hideous and rather imaginative ways that I had supposedly tortured countless hapless Parisians in his absence for the crimes committed against me. His sallow face became red in indignation as I went on without a shred of guilt and quite enjoying myself. As I paused for breath, he sputtered, "Erik! How could you?! You have truly gone mad!"
Undone, I lowered my chin to my chest and gave in to the restrained laughter. Wiping a tear from my unmasked cheek, I gasped, "Oh, God!" Nadir eventually comprehended that I had fabricated the entire heinous plot in my poisoned mind and was none too pleased.
Wiping my hand over my eyes, I continued to chuckle as he righteously upbraided me for playing him for a fool. Giving him a rare, genuine smile, I answered amiably, "You are quite right, Nadir. I should not have teased you."
Instantly observant and wary, he asked cautiously, "You are different, Erik. What has happened to you?"
Sighing in contentment, I proceeded to tell him about Christine miraculously agreeing to be my bride. His shock was apparent but I was too elated inside to care and he plied me with questions for the next hour. When we parted, he wished me well and also requested that I bring Christine with me the following month so he could offer her congratulations. After a brief argument, I agreed in annoyance simply so that I could return to her quickly. Rehearsals had ended minutes ago.
In a light-hearted mood, I rushed towards her dressing room with eagerness to see her again. The corridors smelled damp and were frigid but I smiled in anticipation of looking into her warm eyes. Perhaps I had been mistaken. Perhaps fortune had finally showed mercy on me and she would really be mine.
As I slowed my steps and stole behind her mirror, I noticed in instant alarm that Madame Giry and Meg were speaking in hushed, furtive tones inside her dressing room. Christine was no where to be seen. Heedless of anything but the foreboding churning in my stomach, I swiftly turned the pivot of the large mirror and stood glowering at them. Meg gasped and quickly moved behind her mother as I stared silently at Madame Giry. Tersely, I spat, "Where is she?"
Swallowing hard, Madame Giry patted Meg who whimpered behind her and then burst into tears. Trepidation coiled up my spine as Madame Giry stepped resolutely towards me and whispered in a trembling voice, "She is gone, Monsieur."