What is a choice? A mere few words can determine your fate.
The entire outcome of your life.
Many people do not believe in fate, but how are they to prove it. Not one person on this earth knows the innermost workings of our existence, nor the meaning behind the lives in which we live. There are merely optimists and pessimists. Sure everyone would gladly accept the fact that we all have a purpose in life and are not just blindly roaming the desolate planet, hoping and waiting for the moment that their lives will be meaningful and worthwhile. This moment of truth is never fully realized and therefore we die, in pain, wishing that we had done something more with ourselves.
Not everyone has this morbid outlook on life.
Many people did.
Christine however did not.
Therefore she sat on her bed the morning after watching the disturbing media program detailing the disappearance of the kind stranger who had probably saved her life. What Christine worried about more then anything in the world at that moment was the possibility that he had lost his life in the process.
She couldn't confess what she knew with Raoul. It was a childish thing but if she told him what she had seen she would have to disclose the information that she had been at La Bayou listening to Erik play when she had given him a blantant and unforgivable lie that she was not. This, also quite silly in nature, was something she could not bring herself to do. So all night she had tossed and turned, wide awake, contempalating her choices.
Christine knew the minute that she woke up that she had to go to the police. It was not a question anymore of her silly lie to Raoul. It was a question of Jeff, and what he did for her, and the fact no one knew where he was. As she had lay in bed in the dead of night, listening to Raoul's steady breathing, she had put herself in the place of Kimberly. She imagined how she would feel if she had lost Raoul, if he had somehow altogether disappeared, leaving her forever.
She didn't have to try very hard to instantly feel the unspeakable sadness that went along with that emotion.
So she had to do it, no matter how worthless her information was, she had to try and help.
Christine had never been good with lies. Sure, she had grown quite accustomed to lying about her whereabouts. But that was the extent of it. She had trouble coping with grander lies. Additionally, Christine felt a prep time was needed before she told Raoul where she would be going, or not going as it were. She could never even imagine coming up with one on the spot.
Never in a million years.
Christine felt sick as she left the apartment in the morning and walked down to her car. She didn't breathe as the elevator let out a small 'ding' indicating they had arrived in the car park. Jeff's youthful face was fresh in her mind as she drove down the highway.
She couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she could have possibly been the last person to speak to him before he…
Christine refused to think about it.
As the small police station came into view her heart accelerated. Slowly she parked the car and stepped outside into the sunny morning air. She walked forward towards the building like a zombie, she didn't know what she was going to say to them, but she knew she had to. She desperately wanted to make sure Jeff was ok, and nothing terrible had happened to him. She didn't want to think of the fact that such a hope was ridiculous.
Christine paused before she reached the doorway and instead decided to sit on the bench outside of the station to collect her thoughts. She took deep breaths and massaged her forhead with her fingertips. Suddenly a low, quiet voice reached her ears from above her.
Christine raised her head to meet the man's eyes, but found she could not. For his eyes were covered with a baseball cap slanted low over his face. She couldn't make out any of his features, she smiled at him hesitantly.
"Why are you hear at the police station?" he asked her.
Christine didn't reply, her brow furrowed slightly, wondering why on earth he would ask her such a thing.
"I…just have some information that…"
The man however, did not care enough to let her finish her sentence, he knew exactly why she was there.
"I was told," he said, holding out a small letter, "to give you this."
Christine looked at him in complete confusion, her eyes glancing between the man to the letter and back again. She slowly reached out a shaking hand and took the paper from him, she studied it for a moment and when she looked up again the man was gone without a trace.
It baffled Christine, but what confused her more was the letter. She hadn't the slightest idea who would be writing to her. And why they would use such a strange messenger, surely they knew such a courier would more likely scare her away then deliver her letter.
With shaking hands Christine slowly unfolded the piece of paper and looked at the dark pen marks which lay across it.
Dear Miss. Christine Davis (soon to be Chagny),
I am well aware of the fact you know more then you should. I cannot stress this point enough…you must never mention what you know to anyone. Not a single soul. That is why after you finish reading this letter you will fold it up, place it in your purse, walk back to your car, and drive back home, or your fiancée's downtown apartment, whichever that suits your fancy. If these commands are ignored, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur. I am not a great penman, and can never give justice behind the words I write. Therefore I will not spend time making these words pretty or fluent in the slightest. I know about you Miss. Davis, I know where you live, your closest friends, and the fact that you are now set to be married to a Mr. Raoul Chagny. If you do not want harm to come to them you will keep your mouth shut. Many people find too late that prudent silence is wise. Do not speak of what you know, and do not show this letter to another living soul. Remember Miss, there are many ways in which to kill a man.
I remain, your obedient servant,
O.G
Tears were slowly spilling down Christine's face as she finished the angry and threatening letter. Her body shook violently as she slowly folded the paper through her teary eyes and stuffed it into her purse. As she saw it she had two choices. She could march right into the police station and show them the note and tell them where Jeff had been the last time she saw him and what he had told her about his work. Or she could obey the writer of the note and walk back to her car as if nothing had happened.
Christine knew that she should turn the letter over to the police.
But she was too terrified to do such a thing. The clear threats detailed in the letter were enough to make her walk straight back to the car and sit herself in the drivers seat. The letter wasn't threatening to her, per se, but fear for Raoul's life had someone worked it's way prominently into her mind. She could never take the chance that she or someone she knew could come to harm by the action. She could never build up the courage for something like that.
Christine's shaking hands fumbled with the keys as her eyes scanned frantically over the sunny streets. But she saw no signs of anyone lurking in the shadows that could be the writer of the letter. She merely saw happy people wandering down the street or people preoccupied to driving to wherever they had to be.
Christine never figured how she managed to drive back to her large house, without causing an accident or swerving off the road. Unspeakable and all-consuming fear filled every fibre in her being and she was constantly looking over her shoulder making sure she wasn't being followed.
At long last she returned home and practically sprinted from her driveway into the door. As it slammed closed she pressed her back against the doorframe and closed her eyes. Christine had never imagined something like it could ever happen to her.
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Meg sat in sweatpants on Christine's couch as they both shoveled down popcorn while watching 'Titanic' for a multiple viewing. Raoul was working long into the night again and she had felt guilty that her best friend would be all alone in her house with nothing except her piano to accompany her.
Meg knew of course, how passionate Christine was about music. But it didn't stop her from feeling that it couldn't substitute for good old-fashioned conversation. Meg watched her from out of the corner of her eye, Christine had seemed very tense all night, jumping when the phone rang and constantly looking out the windows as if she expected to see something staring right back at her.
"Christine?" Meg asked softly, "Are you ok?"
Christine's eyes immediately snapped from the large boat sinking into the icy blue ocean to Meg's worried face. She seemed to freeze momentarily before cautiously replying, "I'm fine. Why?"
Meg shrugged, "I don't know, you just don't seem yourself. You're all jumpy, anyway, I was just wondering. If there's anything that you want to talk about…"
Christine quickly shook her head and looked back to the screen, "There's nothing to talk about."
Meg was immediately silenced and merely just looked back to the screen without another word. An awkward silence inevitably ensued, and Meg was fishing desperately for something remotely interesting to say. Finally Christine spoke, her voice hushed and so quiet that Meg questioned for a moment if she had heard anything at all.
"I'm frightened Meg…"
Meg felt her blood run cold in her veins as she spoke those words.
"Why are you frightened Christine?" Meg asked anxiously, Christine looked at her with an expression that greatly worried her friend, so she felt the need to repeat the question, "Christine…why are you frightened?"
Christine opened her mouth to speak.
The phone rang shrilly from in the kitchen.
Christine visibly jumped and then stiffened trying to collect herself, her breathing sporadic and uneven. Meg watched terrified from the couch, wondering what was wrong with her. She had never seen Christine so shaken in a long time. After a moment the phone rang again and Christine slowly stood and walked into the other room. Meg dared not follow her. She strained her ears and hear Christine's shaking voice mutter a soft, "Hello?"
There was silence for a moment before she heard Christine's much steadier voice reply, "I'm fine Raoul, really. How is work?"
A few minutes later Christine walked back into the living room, wiping her palms on her jeans. Meg watched her in silence for a moment before quietly asking her,
"Christine, would you like me to sleepover tonight?"
Christine hurriedly nodded, looking extremely grateful.
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The room was dark, and a few men sat in the few chair occupying it. The only light source in the room was from an overhanging lamp which flickered irregularly. They all watched and waited for the enterance of the man they were there to see.
Suddenly a door opened and loud strong footsteps echoed throughout the dimly lit room. The men suddenly straightened desperate to make a good impression.
"Something must be done," The man said as he stood in the shadows, "We have been cleverly deceived. I had not the knowledge of his little affair with the girl. I see this, gentlemen, as a failure on your part. Your lack of tact for telling me what I need to know, when I need to know it has cost us all. Do you not understand the seriousness of this?" he bellowed finally, his voice in an angry timbre that caused all the men to tremble slightly.
"Sir," a balding man said hesitantly, "I am really sorry. I hadn't the slightest idea that the guy was fooling around with her. I swear that if I had known…"
"Do not bother me with proof of your incompetence!" The voice shouted, causing them all to immediately silence, "I wish to leave this God Forsaken place as soon as possible. You will not fail me again. That I am sure of."
"Sir," said another man after a moment of silence, "I have also taken care of what you asked me to. I have sent a letter,"
"A letter?" he asked, his face flashing, "And what, dear sir, did you write in this letter?"
"Just to keep her fucking mouth shut. I think I scared her enough so she never give us away. I'll keep a close eye on her, so if she causes any problems I can get rid of her, though I don't think it will have to come to that."
"Good," he said, obviously pleased, "And pray, did you find out the ladies name."
"Yes sir," he answered, visibly proud of himself, "Some girl named Christine, Christine Davis."
The man in front of them instantly froze, and suddenly exploded, his voice loud and intimidating.
"Do not do anything to disturb her!" he panted and then stared off into space for a moment before nodding to himself, "No, I will keep an eye on her myself."
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That night Christine lay in bed with her eyes wide open, them darting around the room. A paralyzing fear was coursing through her veins at every minute of everyday. Many times she felt like she was being watched, and didn't know what the hell she was going to do in order to ensure her and her friends safety.
All of a sudden a voice entered her mind. Christine immediately panicked and sat up straight in her bed her eyes darting around the room to find the man who the voice belonged to. She looked over at Meg, expecting her to be looking around for the same thing. Meg however was softly snoring in the place beside her.
The voice continued to sing a soothing melody. It shocked her to find that the voice was familiar, though she couldn't quite place it. She wasn't sure why she knew the voice, but all she knew was that it was slowly coaxing her to lay back down and close her eyes.
She then settled into a deep sleep.
A/N: Here is Chapter 15. I am well aware that this story strays quite a ways away from the original storyline, so please don't hesitate to leave me a comment. I have to sincerely thank you again for following this story and leaving your kind reviews. They do mean a lot to me. I am currently working on another fan fiction, titled "My Last Breath", it would be awesome if you'd take stop by and check that one out as I am very happy with the direction it's going.
Thank you for all your continued support.
