Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera. I just borrow it and use it for my own deviant purposes.
Finality
I'm dying. I know this to be a fact. I'm not a complete idiot when it comes to matters of my health, despite the way I've treated my body over the years. I know that even as I write these words that life is slowly slipping away from me. I know I am dying.
What truly amazes me is that I care. After all that I've been through, all that I've seen and lived, I would think that I would embrace death with open arms; my sweet salvation from a life of torment, but it is not so. Now that death is here and imminent, I find that I do not wish to die. It's almost ironic, isn't it? That I would long for death for so long, but once it is upon me I would wish for life instead.
It's all her fault, you know. No, I mustn't think that way. I must not sully the memory of my angel with the bitter thoughts of my final moments. Christine is innocent. She knew not what she did when kissed me, just here on my brow, and allowed me to kiss her in return. She knew not that as our tears mingled that she forever changed my very soul. That kiss was my first moment of real happiness. That single moment of happiness was enough to change a ghost into a man; a man who no longer wishes to die as he once did.
Damn it! Damn it all! All I wanted was to be a normal man! A normal man with a wife to walk with on Sundays! Oh, Christine! Christine! Can't you see how happy we could have been? How I would have worshipped you? I love you. I love you. I love you! I love you and now I am dying of that love! Oh, and do not be fooled by these stains upon the page. I am not crying. No, no, not at all. It is raining outside, you see, and I am quite wet. Yes, I am quite wet and the water is drip, drip, dripping upon the page. These are not tear stains, you see.
She will come back, you know. My sweet, beautiful Christine will return to me. For she is a good girl and she promised. She promised to return one last time to bury poor, unhappy Erik. So maybe death is my friend, after all, if it brings my angel back to me. Yes, death is not at all bad. It is simply trading one hell for another. That is all; a new hell.
Oh, but it is useless! Despite my words, I still do not wish to die. I long for death's release, but I fear it as well. Me, the mighty Opera Ghost who never feared anything here in my kingdom and tomb beneath the Paris Opera House. I am the god of this hell and the heavens above it, but I still cannot escape the grasp of death.
"I am Red Death passing by." Ha! Death shall pass me by no more! It is coming now, there is nothing I can do about it. Death is coming for me and it shall not move past again. The Opera Ghost shall haunt these halls nevermore.
It strikes me as I write what are sure to be my final words that no one will miss me. Damn the world! For they did not know Erik and they will not miss him! He tried. Oh, yes he did. He tried, but the world refused to see beyond these corpse like features. They could not see beyond this ravaged face.
The daroga will not miss me, no, no. He will be happy to see Erik and his tricks dead and cold at last. He will be relieved. Perhaps he believes that it was a mistake to save poor Erik back in Persia. Perhaps he wishes me dead already. Well, he shall not have to wait long. No, it will not be long now.
Oh, but there is Christine. My beautiful Christine. Perhaps she will miss me. I am not worthy of her thoughts. I am but a loathsome corpse who is not deserving of this sweet angel's memories, but I hope. Oh how I hope that she will remember her Angel of Music, her maestro. How I hope that she will return and she will miss me.
The end; it is coming now. I can feel it. Hear how I gasp. I cannot breathe. I am dying from a single moment of happiness, from a single kiss. This is the end of the reign of the Phantom of the Opera. This is the end of Erik.
A/N: First off, a big round of applause for my new beta, The Sunday Wife.
Secondly, I wrote this oneshot as a part of a deal with my friend, Affirmed Hope. If I posted one, she'd post one. So go read To Want the Impossible, yeah?