Chapter 6: Why are you here?
Christine lay awake twirling the black satin ribbon in her fingers. The rose-his rose- lay on her nightstand. So he is here… she thought to herself.
"Angel of music, I denied you, turning from true beauty!" She remembered that song so clearly in her head… Why had Raoul stopped her in the graveyard; stopped her from entering her angel's passionate embrace and never being let go of? She too had stopped herself, though. She had turned away from the warm gentle light glowing on her to look at Raoul. Now she turned from Raoul to look at- what was she looking at? Her angel was there, he must be. How else would his rose end up in her dressing room? She wanted to turn from Raoul to look at her Angel of Music, but she didn't know which way to face.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Raoul sat there, feeling like a fool for ever believing Christine could love him more than her cherished Phantom of the Opera. But then, when he 'came back to his senses' he realized Christine couldn't have chosen a monster over him. That evil thing must have taken my betrothed away! He has taken her deep down into the slimy catacombs in which he resides. My poor Christine, he thought. She didn't deserve to live like that down there with that filthy beast of a man!
Thousands of ideas flashed through Raoul's mind at that moment. Every thought, different in one way or another, agreed on this: the dragon must be slayed, and the princess, freed.
He hurried down the marble steps of the de Changy estate to the Opera Populaire, where he planned on risking his life once more for the one he loved.
You just wait Christine, he thought to himself with a smirk on his face, the demon will perish, and we will be reunited!
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
He stood in front of the mirror, watching her every move "Angel? My Angel, can you hear me?" He heard her say. He was compelled to sing and comfort her, but he gave himself a mental kick for even thinking of it. I am to give her a rose, and nothing more. He had told himself. But now this seemed almost impossible to do. She was calling out to him, pleading for him to come back to her.
Before he could reason out his possible actions and their outcomes, he whispered "Hush my angel, I am here. You know very much why I am here, but my question for you: why are you here?"