I took some liberties with the setting in this chapter. If you've been to the opera house in New York and want to point something out, please do. I was forced to go off crude photographs and confusing seating charts. Anyway...hopefully it works out.
The end grows closer, my friends.
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She heard singing.
The sound was that of a rich baritone, soon accompanied by a tenor and a loud ensemble of string instruments. While the music echoed all around her, it also seemed to originate from somewhere far down below. Although her eyes remained closed, she could sense that the atmosphere was darker. Her neck ached from bending to the side in an awkward position, and her head was uncomfortably propped backward. It took her several seconds to remember all that had happened, and a sudden feeling of fearful realization began to come over her. Where was she?
Confused and foggy-headed, Christine slowly raised her head and opened her eyes, nearly letting out a shriek of surprise as she focused on her fairly familiar surroundings. She was back at the Metropolitan Opera House-sitting high up in a balcony box toward the left of the stage. Her eyes momentarily fell on the performance below, along with the thousands of audience members that were watching. A nauseous sensation began to build in her stomach, and the gold-decked circular room tilted and swayed. She briefly wondered if she would pass out again.
Regaining her composure, Christine started to try and stand up, only to find that both wrists were tightly tied to the chair armrests by pieces of white twine. As the music below became louder, a scream began to build in the back of her throat. The icy whisper from behind made her keep silent.
"Calm down, my dear." Her blue eyes widened. "You do not want to ruin the show for the rest of the audience, do you?"
She gasped, her heart hammering inside of her chest. "Erik," she managed to softly choke out. The music was too loud, and they were too isolated for anyone to hear their voices. Whether by coincidence or not, the boxes around them appeared to be empty. "What...what's going on? What are we doing here?"
A low chuckle greeted her. "I thought you enjoyed the opera, Christine! I procured us tickets to La Forza del Destino. Does that not please you? Or perhaps there is no pleasing you. Christine cannot be pleased."
His cold words caused shivers to run up and down her spine. She attempted to calm down and find reason within all of this, wishing that she could turn around and face him. If she could just get him to understand before something terrible happened. "Erik. Please untie me. I don't like this. We can talk if you'll untie me." She berated herself for sounding weak but couldn't seem to hide the tremor in her voice.
"But then you will attempt to escape, my dear. And we certainly cannot have that! No, Christine. You will sit here and watch our grand finale until the very end. I will have it no other way. If you are still not impressed, my dear, then I may free you! But only after you stay for the finale."
He wasn't making any sense to her, speaking quickly and cryptically. Christine took a deep breath and attempted to free her arms from the chair. The more she twisted and pulled, though, the tighter the twine became. As a growing panic began to consume her, she again attempted to reach the sane part of his mind, if it still existed. "Erik," she repeated, as gently as possible. "Let's leave. I don't want to stay here."
"But then I will have nothing to give you!" he rasped. "And how shall I ever compete with your boy if I do not give you a finale!?"
Her heart froze at the thought of Raoul. She still didn't know if he was alive, feeling ill as various scenarios suddenly passed through her mind. If anything happened to him, it would be her fault. And how would she ever feel anything but loathing for the man behind her? "Erik?" she quietly asked, knowing she was putting herself in danger. "What did you do to him?"
Another bitter chuckle. "Always back to your boy? Ah! But he matters no longer! Tonight, it is you and I. And our finale!"
"Stop it!" she exclaimed. Reason was no longer possible. "What did you do to him?"
Two cold hands roughly clamped down upon her shoulders. Christine braced herself. "Perhaps I tore him into tiny pieces...like the monster that I am," he hissed into her ear. "Perhaps there is nothing left of your friend."
She released a quiet sob, gripping onto the armrests of the chair to steady herself. "Why!?" she exclaimed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I wasn't even going to..." Christine stopped in the middle of the sentence, knowing that it didn't matter anymore. There was nothing left now, only death and destruction. Her decision had come too late. The damage had been done. "Why?" she repeated, sickly. "Raoul...Mr. Piane..." The next words were out before she could stop them, her despair molded into each syllable. "I hate you!"
They had little effect on him.
"Shhh," he whispered into her ear. "You are drawing unwanted attention to us, my love." He stroked her hair. "And that will only bring our finale closer."
She blankly looked down to the performance below. A chorus was currently singing, further muffling their conversation. Even if she had screamed, few would have heard her. "Please let me go," she whispered, knowing it would make no difference. "I'm scared."
"Why there is nothing to fear, Christine," he stated in a tone of mock soothing. "You will be free soon. After the finale."
She released a sigh of frustration. "What do you mean our finale, Erik? What are you talking about?"
"The ending of every great love story must have a grand finale. I would not have it any other way. Without a finale, there can be no ending."
"So we're going to watch until the end of the opera? Is that it? Is that the finale?"
"Smart girl! Yes. That will be our finale." He was quiet for several moments, and she started to lean into the plush seat, wondering if this was some kind of twisted game. Then, he spoke again. "But it will be a finale like none have ever seen!"
Her eyes widened. "Why? What's going to happen?"
"But that will spoil the surprise, my dear. And that would not do at all!"
Panic began to rise in the back of her throat, and she again attempted to get out of the seat. The singing on stage reached a crescendo, signaling a coming climax. "Please," she begged. "Tell me what's going to happen."
"You do not enjoy surprises?" he enquired. "What a shame, my dear! But I am sure you are able to understand my surprise when I discovered what you and your little friend had been up to! Ah! Christine does not like surprises. But she quite enjoys lies...deceit...treachery." He practically spit the last word out.
Despite everything, a pang of guilt ran through her. "Erik," she whispered. She could say nothing else, though. Was she to tell the man who had murdered her friend that she had intended on returning to him out of nothing but her heart's desire while he was behind her ranting in madness...speaking in some crazed riddle? No, it wouldn't have been true anymore. There was terror. Only terror at the moment.
"You thought that I would not find out? I trusted you more than I should have, but I am not blind to the deceit of women. Plane tickets to Seattle? Gallivanting around the town with your lover? Eyes are everywhere, my dear. You will never escape them."
"What? What do you mean?" she asked. "You had people watching me?"
"Eyes are everywhere," he repeated, obviously amused at her shock. "Not to mention this lovely little conversation." A tape quietly played behind her, and she guessed he was holding an earpiece up to her ear.
I don't think I'm supposed to look nice at a funeral.
Well, you do anyway.
I don't know if I can do this.
I know it's hard, Chris. But it will be fine. See everyone that you know, and say your goodbyes to a wonderful woman. I should be back sometime this evening, and our flight leaves tomorrow morning around nine. Maybe we should drive to Boston tonight and stay at a hotel. How does that sound?
Boston?
Our plane leaves from Logan. I didn't want to take us back to New York.
Oh.
It sharply clicked off. Christine shook her head miserably, as if trying to will the entire conversation away.
"Yes," continued Erik. "After you were seen with your boy, your landlord was informed that your apartment might have an infestation. Rats, perhaps. And you know how troublesome rats can be. They are the spreaders of most diseases, the vilest of plagues. Your landlord was quite eager to allow someone inside of the home for an extermination."
"What?"
"Ears are everywhere." His voice became closer. "I told you there was no escape from me. And I meant it. Only after the finale are you free. Erik will then disappear forever."
She could only guess that he had her apartment bugged, but it didn't matter anymore. He knew. How he knew no longer mattered. "Please listen to me," she began. "You don't understand that I—"
"Oh! I understand perfectly," he interrupted in an angry whisper. "Nothing that I could ever give you would be good enough! Never! I gave you everything! Everything I did was for you. But you will always choose him! You will never love me!"
"No! You hurt people! It was never about—"
"Justify yourself all you wish! Your words mean nothing! All of them are lies!"
She groaned hopelessly, twisting in the confines of the seat. "I want to leave," she whispered.
"Only after the finale," he bitterly replied. "You are mine until then."
A shiver ran through her in anticipation of something terrible. This was more than a twisted game. She could hear the deadly anger in his tone, the desire for revenge...to make her suffer. "What's the finale?" she asked. "Please tell me. Maybe there doesn't have to be one."
"But there must be!"
"No. Please tell me. Please, Erik."
A long silence passed in which Christine sat in the chair, staring blankly at the performance as the tension in the air grew. There was a now a fight on stage, two men in costume battling for some unknown cause. The audience was caught up in the intense excitement, completely ignorant of the drama that was unfolding above them.
"Look directly below you," Erik quietly commanded. "Toward the audience."
She obeyed.
"The first will go off there. The second...several feet to the right. The third...center of the audience... The fourth will be the third row. The fifth, stage right. The sixth in one of the tiers for an extra surprise. Perhaps there is a seventh...even an eighth." He spoke very calmly, frightfully calmly. "One right after the other-just like little dominos! And that, my love, is our grand finale. And we will watch from above as it happens below-untouched. And then, I will leave you to yourself. Surely someone will find you up here sooner or later. Perhaps they will even interview you for the morning papers, and then you can tell them of the great finale you witnessed!"
"What?" she whispered in horror. "What's going to happen?"
"Must I really repeat myself, Christine?"
"What's going to go off?" she asked, not sure if she even wanted to know the answer.
He chuckled. "Stunning fireworks, my dear. Like you have never seen in your life. Yellow, orange, and red lights shall flash before your very eyes! And the sounds will be more magnificent than any symphony ever composed! It will be a masterpiece! A perfect ending to our story!"
Her face paled in horror. She could feel herself become dizzy in realization of what was about to happen, cold perspiration gathering on her brow. Desperately, she attempted to change his mind, praying he had some humanity left in all that anger. "Don't do this! Please don't, Erik. All these people, they don't deserve it."
"Shhh. The more attention you draw to us, the sooner the finale."
"Please. Please don't do this."
"But without a grand finale, there can be no end. The love story continues. We will continue...forever..."
She blinked, slowly beginning to understand now. "If I stay, there won't be a finale?" she softly asked. There was no answer from behind her, which she took to be an affirmation. It was a choice. Of course, there was only one obvious answer. Hundreds of people wouldn't die because of her stupidity...because of Raoul's brashness...because of Erik's madness...
She didn't know what would happen after this. Perhaps she was condemning herself. Still, even if it was out of nothing but duty, she had to stop this nightmare from going forward. "Erik." Her voice was calm. "I'll stay with you. We'll go together. I'll stay."
He laughed coldly. "Of course you say that now, my love. I take it that my finale does not please you? You are quite difficult to please, Christine."
"I promise that I'll stay. I won't ever run. For the love of God, don't do this. Not all these people. Please!"
"You do it only to save their pointless lives! The second you see freedom, you will take it. You will leave me to my hell!"
"No," she gently replied. "I won't. I'll stay with you. I won't ever leave. Please. Please stop it from happening."
A silence passed in which she sat with every muscle in her body tense. Her hands were slowly growing numb from loss of circulation. Exhaustion was overtaking her, a result of the overwhelming fear and anxiety.
"You will stay forever?" he whispered. She could feel him touch her hair. "As only mine? As my wife even? You will go anywhere with me? Anywhere in the world?"
"Yes," she replied, her heart constricting. "I'll stay. I'll go anywhere."
"You realize all can be reset should you go back on your promise? The finale can come any time...anywhere!"
"I know. I'll stay, Erik. I promise."
Another silence followed, and she knew that he was judging her words, determining whether they were true or not. She inwardly prayed that he would trust her. Erik finally spoke, his voice now with a tinge of victory. "Then you shall have the honor of the first vow, my dear."
She felt a cold sensation touch her right arm and looked down. Two skeletal hands were untying one of her wrists. For the first time that night, she felt slight relief, but it faded as Erik placed a black box into her open palm. The object was about the size of a remote control, tiny wires poking out from the sides. Two large buttons lay at the top with several smaller ones on the edges. "Red to wed, my dear. Green for the finale."
"What!"
"It is your decision. Your choice of endings. All rests in your hands now, Christine." He softly chuckled at his own joke. "It can be no other way."
Erik was going to make her turn the explosives off! "Don't make me do this," she pled, staring at the two brightly colored buttons. "I don't want to do this."
"If you do not, my dear, I rather prefer green, and I will push that one." He laughed. "They will never know what hit them! Each little surprise hidden beneath their seats. You would be surprised how many souls in this city are eager to work for the cause of destruction."
"What if I push the wrong one? How do I know?" She choked, staring down at the opera...the masses of well-dressed people sitting in the audience...unaware of their possible fate.
"Then it will be a sad mistake, indeed. Your time grows short, Christine."
"But—"
"Now, Christine."
She held her breath and slowly lowered her hand over the black box. Even without seeing him, she knew that Erik's yellow eyes were intensely watching her. The music continued in the background, seeming more and more distant by the moment. A fog surrounded her, and the black box was the only thing that was in focus. With trembling fingers and a throbbing heart, she finally pushed the red button.
Christine squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath.
A soft beep sounded into the air, like that of a watch, but nothing more. The opera continued in all its splendor. The singing continued. Life continued without pause. Her body collapsed back into the chair in relief.
"You have chosen red," Erik whispered from behind her. "There is no ending tonight. Yes. We will go now together. We will go far away. And no one will ever find us." As he untied her other wrist, she could only tiredly nod. "Come. We will leave now. We will go." His voice was different from what it had been moments before, nervous and full of disbelief. He sounded almost like a disobedient child who was futilely trying to make everything 'all better.'
Still lightheaded, Christine struggled to stand up, feeling her legs nearly come out from beneath her. Everything was fuzzy and disoriented, likely the result of both her fear and the lingering effects of the drug. She almost stumbled toward the edge of the balcony, her throat too dry for her to call out. An arm soon wrapped possessively around her waist, before half-carrying, half-dragging her away. No struggle or resistance was left in her.
He quickly took her out of the box and down a flight of stairs. An employee gave them a curious glance as they passed. Erik gazed directly at him. "My wife is ill," he stated. "We are leaving early." The young man didn't dare question the shadow with the yellow eyes, quickly stepping backward and permitting them to go by. Christine numbly allowed him to drag her out, still in somewhat of a state of shock. As they stepped outside, the cold air of the night partially awoke her. She blinked in the darkness. Several groups of people passed by but paid them no notice, as if they had both blended into the night.
Erik continued to tightly hold onto her as they walked forward, more to keep her from falling to the ground than to prevent her from escaping. At the very least, he seemed to have some comprehension that he was making her ill...shattering her nerves...eroding her sanity. Christine's eyes finally fell on the familiar black car that sat outside the glow of the streetlights. She blinked several times, realizing that a man was standing beside it. Her heart rate increased again as she wondered what other horrors she would face that night.
"Leave," Erik stated as he approached the figure.
The man stepped forward, his face mostly concealed by a brown ski mask. "But it was to be tonight," he replied in a gruff voice. "You said..."
Christine felt Erik's hold on her tighten, wincing as his long fingers dug into her shoulder blades. "Plans have changed. There is to be no finale. Leave."
"The hell there isn't!" the man exclaimed. "Where the hell is that remote? This place is going up!"
Christine looked between them in a daze. With an agitated sigh, Erik released her and opened one of the car doors. "Go in, Christine." She stared up at him for a moment, her eyes pleading for some sort of mercy that night. "I said to go in," he repeated with dangerous impatience.
She had no choice but to obey, climbing into the warmer backseat and closing her eyes as the door was shut. After she had sat in the terrible silence for barely over a minute, the other door opened and Erik quickly climbed into the vehicle. "Drive," he commanded. The car instantly lurched forward. "I did the country a favor by ridding it of him," Erik muttered to himself, looking back once before settling into the seat. "There is no finale. There will not be one tonight. It was not his decision. It was mine. No. It was yours. It was our decision."
Christine stared forward with her fists clenched, not daring to utter a word or make a sudden movement. She unintentionally flinched as Erik's cold hand touched her shoulder.
"You're afraid of me now," he frantically continued. "You will learn not to be as our years together pass. You will learn to love me. In time, you will learn." She could only nod. "We will see everything together. Side by side. Forever."
"All right," Christine whispered. "We will."
"Let us have music!" Erik called up to the front. "Something jubilant for the occasion."
As a lighthearted melody began to play from a violin, Christine continued to stare forward. Her terror had turned to a resigned numbness. She suddenly felt Erik cling onto her hand, his cold flesh against her clammy palm. His golden eyes watched her with desperation, wanting her continuous reassurances. Had he really expected her to push the green button? How awful did he think she was?
Despite everything, she found that she still didn't loathe him. There was sadness. For herself and for him. As it now stood, she was a prisoner and nothing more. Her warm feelings of earlier were no longer significant, for she had never had a choice in the matter. If they still remained, they were completely lost amongst the madness and hatred of that evening. Raoul's likely demise continued to gnaw at her heart, causing several tears of mourning to run down her cheeks. What had Erik done to her friend? If only she had never involved him...
At least she had managed to save dozens of other people. At least there was that.
Christine glanced up as a cellular phone rang beside her. Erik released her hand and picked it up. "Yes?" he answered with agitation. A long silence followed. "No," he calmly replied into the receiver "I will take care of it." He hung up and saw Christine gazing at him with silent and fearful curiosity. "We will leave this place soon, my dear," he stated. "I will ensure that no one comes between us, try as they might."
Her lips parted to say something, but she quickly fell silent.
Nothing remained to be said.