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Chapter Three

The taste in her mouth was alkaline, but sweet. Christine's throat burned, and though she tried to swallow, she couldn't. She gagged instead. Alarmed, her body instinctively tried to jolt up, but she couldn't. The peculiar smell finally registered. A cloth soaked in petrol had been stuffed in her mouth. Her hands and feet were bound so tightly with rope that all feeling had left them. Each move of her body made Christine's head pulse and throb in agony. The candles in the room had been burnt down so low that she could barely see that she was in the small confines of a closet. While the theater was in use, it was used to store small stage props. She tried to tear her legs and arms free, but it only caused a sharp, burning sensation to wave all over her body. When she heard rustling outside the door Christine froze, hoping that whatever was out there wouldn't hear her trying to escape from her bindings.

A shrill, coarse voice bellowed from the other side of the closed door. "Is our little diva finally waking up from her nap?" The door was kicked open, knocking Christine in the face. A sinister laugh erupted from her captor. "Always in the wrong place at the wrong time, aren't you? I trust you slept well, mon cherie. Everyday, I dreamt that this opportunity would be given to me. As time wore on, my hope diminished, but it seems that fate is in my corner. I always hoped you would return here someday. And, look! Here you are." Christine's head was pounding. She knew that this could not be Erik. She spent her childhood being lulled to the softness of Erik's singing. This voice was not his, but something about it sounded oddly familiar. Christine couldn't place how or why.

Panic set in and Christine tried to shield herself by cowering and shifting to a corner. Her assailant laughed again. "Oh, poor girl, are you frightened? You shouldn't be. In fact, if I remember correctly, it isn't in your nature to want to fade into the background. You always had to be the center of the stage." Christine yelped in agony as her attacker firmly grabbed her by her hair. "So let's put you where you belong!" Christine was dragged to the stage and firmly thrown to the floor on her knees. As she tried to glance up at her captor, Christine was immediately thrown back from being pounded across her forehead by her assailant.

Feeling the wet, warm flow of blood trickle down her face, Christine softly sobbed to herself. Only the slight sound of moaning came from her gagged mouth. "Why the tears, little one?" The dark figure asked as it hovered over her. "I am sure you being here is no accident. There must be some reason for your return." When she finally mustered the courage, Christine returned her glance up at her captor. Christine could make out a black satin cape that softly reflected what little light was in the room, but the face was hidden by an enormous black cap. "I wonder. What brings the little diva back? Could it be she come to repent for her sins?" The figure began pacing around her. "No, that would take a great deal of character and remorse, both of which you lack severely." It snickered again. "Hard to defend yourself? I suppose I could be gracious and allow you to reply, this once."

The Phantom untied the cloth from her mouth. Furiously spitting the sopping rag from her mouth, Christine sputtered as she inhaled. Coughing, she started to feel sick and began gagging. She could not stop the bile from coming up and she vomited across the front of her dress. "Tsk, tsk, Christine. How revolting. Your dress is ruined now," it jeered at her. Christine looked down in embarrassment. "At a loss for words? Don't you see? You deserve this. You wasted the affections of a man who would give you the world if he could. We were his puppets he controlled for your amusement. He held our lives in his hands and you chose to throw it all away. You deserted us." Its voice softened. "And we let you."

Sinking to its knees, the abductor looked Christine in the face as Christine began crying out, "Please, f-forgive me. I didn't mean to – I n-n-never meant to –" Christine's voice trailed off as she looked in horror upon her tormentor. Beneath the brim of its hat, Christine saw the phantom's ubiquitous white mask. She knew it wasn't Erik, but was shocked to see that it wasn't a man either. Her strikingly blue eyes and the delicate features of her face peeked from underneath. The voice. It became all too familiar to her. Christine didn't have to ask, she knew. "Meg!"

Speaking mostly to herself, Meg whispered, "He could have had anyone, but he chose you. What made you so worthy? Any one of us would have loved the opportunity." Looking back at Christine, she said more forcefully, "You didn't deserve his adoration, his brilliance!"

"Meg, I –"

"You didn't even tell ME," Meg interrupted. "We were like sisters. My mother and I regarded you as family. All those years, and you never said a thing!"

"Meg, you don't understand. How could I have known? I didn't intentionally keep it from you," Christine lamented. "How was I supposed to know what he was, or why he gave me lessons? I thought it was my father. He kept telling me it was our own special secret. I never thought that anything like that would ever have happened. I never meant to hurt any of you."

"And that's why you ran away, right?" Meg jeered in return. "When all of us were wondering what to do next, or how we expected to make a living, you and your Viscount escape to a better life. You selfish pig," Meg screamed. "Everyday we had to question whether or not you were even still alive." Meg snapped up on her feet. "My mother cried on end for both you and Erik. She couldn't even take care of herself most days. We didn't eat, sometimes, for days! I had to beg for table scraps so we wouldn't starve to death. And every day, I was thankful that at least we were still alive," Meg said in disgust.

"I would read the paper every day to see if anyone had seen you or if your bodies had turned up. Imagine my surprise when I read about your lavish wedding in the society pages. All that fear and worrying – and you were celebrating! You didn't even have the decency to tell us that you were safe."

"I wanted to tell you! Raoul made me stay away. He wanted to make sure that I would be safe from him, "Christine cried. "I wanted to see you both again, but I couldn't go back to that life. I needed to begin fresh, untainted," Christine cried in retaliation. "What happened that night was one of the worst things I have ever had to experience. You can't blame me for wanting a better life."

"No I can't blame you for wanting that," Meg answered quietly. "But I can blame you for abandoning us in our time of need. After all my family did for you. That night was hard for all of us to endure, but it was what happened afterwards that was far, far worse. How convenient for you that you had your whole life set before you on a silver platter while the rest of us had to beg for food and shelter. That night would never have happened if you hadn't invoked his wrath. We were all at YOUR mercy, not his. You can never take back what happened that night. Some might have forgiven you, but I cannot. And poor Carlotta -"

"That was not my fault," Christine snapped back more abruptly than she should. "None of this is. How can you blame me for anything beyond my control?"

"Christine," Meg said tartly, "I might have been your loyal friend before, but I don't think you are now in a position to argue. Lest I need remind you again," Meg hissed at Christine menacingly. Christine did not need to answer back. "Besides, playing coy has no effect on me. We grew up together; I know all of your tricks. It was you that taught me how to seek off in the middle of the night to raid storage pantry of wines and sweets. You were the one who showed me how to twist words to get what I wanted from people. So by revealing your secrets to me, you also taught me how to see right through you. You might have been able to deceive everyone else, but I know how deep your treachery lies." Christine's cheeks flushed red and she felt her breathing become more rapid. "Now look at you, you are too proud to admit it," Meg taunted. "And what's worse is that you know you were wrong in doing it. Yet, still, you feel no remorse or guilt."

Meg peeled away her cape and Christine was astonished to see that Meg was wearing the shimmering, white dress from her performance as Elissa in Hannibal. Noticing that Christine was taken aback, Meg cooed, "White was never your color and your bone structure is too harsh." Her long, golden curls tumbled out as Meg lifted the cap from her head. Admiring herself she whispered, "On me, it's beautiful, though. You might have been his inspiration, but I am his conception realized." Meg balanced herself on her toes and began pirouetting to an imaginary song she softly hummed to herself. Spinning across the stage at incredible speed, Meg called, "See, Christine, I always had the grace and poise." She stopped suddenly. "You were the clumsy oaf with huge feet and a terrible sense of rhythm. How many times did my mother have to reprimand your forms and techniques? I was the one charted for glory and success. He promised my mother that it would be me. I thought I was the one being groomed. Your fame should have been mine!"

"Meg, I never wanted fame. Not at the expense it cost me. I thought that you were happy for me," Christine pleaded. "You always said you were proud of me."

"And so did everyone else! All those years, I felt sorry for you. To lose your mother and your father so young," Meg continued, "Would be difficult for anyone. But do you know how tiring it was to have listen and watch people coddle over you, sympathizing their hearts out to you at every opportunity, always praising for the smallest mundane tasks? I lost my father, too. But he was merely a stagehand, not a famous, wealthy musician."

"Meg, your father was a wonderful man. Everyone missed him. You know that," said Christine.

"Well, I didn't have any dignitary officials making it a point to introduce themselves to me. And, when you were around, people considered my father an insignificant nobody. Plus, how could I complain when I still had my mother?" Meg cried out even fiercer, "I have always been second best to you Christine! Not for any longer. The Phantom will know. He will know that I would never desert him. That I alone have been faithful to him!"

Meg gently pulled off the mask. Running her fingers across it gingerly, Meg whispered, "I will wait, forever if I have to, for him to see me as I see him." She looked back to Christine, "He left this behind. When we went down to find you, this was the only marker he left. I saved it for you, hoping you would return. You were supposed to come back." Meg started inching closer to Christine in a threatening manner. "See, I knew you would come back," Meg snarled. "But not to make amends with old friends. You are here for Him, aren't you?"

The look of terror on Christine's face caused Meg to cackle once again, "Silly girl! Did you think he would just wait for you forever? This time you won't win. He is mine now," Meg growled. "I preside over this theater house and you shall be punished for trespassing."

Trying to get away, Christine began shifting her weight backwards. She continued to crawl back until a horrible bowing noise creaked from the floor. Christine cried out, "Please, Meg, stop! It's not safe!" She could feel the boards beneath her start bending and popping. Just as Meg as about to reach her, a splitting crack caused part of the floor give way. Both of them stopped. Meg jumped back in time to see the edge around the existing hole in the stage sink into the void taking Christine along to the emptiness below.