September 18th 1892: Christine
I wasn't sure how long I had been wandering aimlessly through the corridors under the opera before I realised it would never work like this. After the first few minutes I had lost track of time. I felt as if I had been on my feet for hours, and I still had no idea where Erik was.
Every time I heard a sound, I stopped dead, listening hard… only to notice moments later that I had produced the sound myself by kicking against a stone or hitting the wall with my lantern. Even those little things caused eerie noises in the long passageways. The one time I had not make the sound myself hadn't been very pleasant either. A rat had hurried away from me, squeaking angrily because the light had disturbed it.
I, on the other hand, was glad about the light. It was a small comfort in the face of the overwhelming darkness around me. Of course I had to ignore the strange shadows dancing over the walls like ghosts, but it was far better than walking without a source of light. My eyes were so swollen from crying that even with the help of the lantern I couldn't see very well. Without it, I'd have probably fallen to the floor within minutes.
Reaching a turning, I simply stopped. There was no point in continuing what I had been doing for a while now. I'd never find him like this. Instead, I risked losing my way. What I needed was something like a plan or a system. I had to search corridor after corridor and somehow make sure that I wasn't going in circles.
The problem was that I had never been exactly fascinated with the world under the opera. For me, who had heard countless stories about dreadful accidents happening down here, it had always remained a frightening place, even with the knowledge that it was Erik who lived here. On the rare occasions when I had been here alone, I had gone to his home right away. Other girls might have been tempted to take detours to discover the many secrets of the passageways, but I had never been that adventurous. Most of the time I had relied on my teacher to guide me.
But said teacher wasn't here now. Or was he? That was another problem I was facing: Even if I happened to be at the right spot, I had no guarantee that I'd notice whether Erik was there as well. I knew that there were almost as many hidden passageways as regular ones. Maybe he was watching me at this very moment. Involuntarily I looked over my shoulder, but I couldn't see anyone, which – as I had just realised – didn't mean anything.
Perhaps I should call for him. When I had called for him in my dressing room all those years ago, he had sometimes responded, but it had never been certain whether he'd do it. There had also been occasions when I had called and called, and he hadn't come. Still it was worth a try. I cleared my throat, which was sore from sobbing. I didn't know how long I had stood at the door to the cellars after Meg had left me, doing nothing but crying. It had felt like a long time.
I waited till the sound of me clearing my throat had died away. Then I waited a little more. For some reason, I was afraid of my own voice all of a sudden. Surely it would be very loud in the corridor. It would hurt my ears. But I had to try it. I had to find him.
"Er-Erik!" I called, but it came out as nothing more than a hoarse whisper. My voice sounded scared, like that of a child who was alone in the dark. But then, that was how I felt.
"Erik!" I tried it again, and it sounded marginally louder than before. "Erik!" This time it had been loud enough. I listened into the darkness, but couldn't hear anything. Either he wasn't here, or he was here and didn't feel like acknowledging the fact that I was looking for him. Both things were possible. The Opera Ghost had never been easy to understand.
The Opera Ghost! Suddenly I recalled what Meg had said. Maybe Erik didn't react to his first name at the moment. I had to try another one.
"Opera Ghost?" No, that had not been the right one either. I had never addressed him as Opera Ghost or Phantom. Those were the names the chorus girls and stagehands had for him.
"Angel?" I called uncertainly. The word sounded strange on my lips. It had been such a long time since I had last addressed him in that way. But then, perhaps it was the right name, the name that would make him come to me or at least reveal that he was there. Yet I didn't hear anything except my own excited breathing.
The only thing caused by my action were memories of the time when I had still called him Angel, when he had still been the Angel of Music to me. I always made sure that I controlled these memories carefully, for some of them were rather painful. Yet now, in this moment when I was insecure and helpless, they caught me off-guard, filling my head. I didn't stand a chance.
"The other girls laughed about me again today," I said in a miserable voice. "They don't believe you really exist…"
The Angel took his time with the reply, just like he always did. It gave me the chance to wipe away the tears from my face and blow my nose. Some of the chorus girls had been so horrible to me today that I had arrived to my singing lesson crying.
Of course the Angel had noticed at once in what a state I had been, even though he couldn't see me. But then, perhaps angels didn't need to see. They could look right into people's hearts. That was the wonderful thing about them: They simply knew such things.
"But you believe that I exist, don't you?" he asked at last.
I hastened to nod.
"Yes, I do," I replied. "I always believed in you, ever since my father told me you'd come and teach me. I waited for you. So it would be stupid not to believe in you, now that you're here." There were so many other things I could have added. I could have told him that he was something like my best friend, that the prospect of hearing his voice made me excited hours before our lessons, that every day without him was dull and empty… But I was afraid of saying all that and making a fool of myself.
"Very stupid indeed," the Angel agreed. "The other girls are only jealous because you have a private teacher and they don't. And even if they had one as well, it wouldn't make any difference. You have a talent, child, a talent they can only dream of. One day, you'll sing so beautifully that everyone in Paris will adore you. It is your fate to sing like that, and I will help you."
I said nothing, merely revelling in his words. The Angel certainly knew how to praise, but he rarely did so, and I wasn't used to it. It made me feel embarrassed, proud and a little anxious, everything at the same time.
"What if I can't do it?" I asked in a small voice. "What if I'm not good enough?"
"You are good enough," he told me firmly. "I can already hear it, even though nobody else can. It is your fate to become the best singer the Parisian stages have ever seen."
"But – " I tried to argue again, yet he interrupted me.
"You've got to trust me, child, and also yourself," he said. "You've got to trust yourself that you know I exist, and you've got to trust me that I know you'll be an excellent singer. Can you do that, Christine?"
"Yes," I answered seriously. "Yes, I can."
My mind snapped back into the present so abruptly that I felt disoriented for a moment. But then I smiled. Erik had done so much for me. Without him, I'd have never had the self-confidence necessary to become a singer. I'd have trusted him with my life, and frankly I still did so.
Now it was my turn to help him. For once, I had to be the strong one, the one who acted instead of waiting for others to do it for me. I would find Erik and I'd help him become normal again.
"Angel!" I called another time, loudly and clearly. And now I did hear something. It was the sound of footsteps coming closer. My heart missed a beat.
"Angel?" I said.
The response consisted of a chuckle. At once I knew something was wrong. The Angel of Music had never chuckled. I held the lantern over my head, only to see a young man walking towards me. His face was dirty, and his clothes old and ragged.
"Angel?" he repeated. "That's the most flattering way I've ever been addressed by a woman. I like it. Thank you very much, Countess." He smiled, revealing ugly, uneven teeth.
I stared at him. This man was not Erik. I didn't know who he was and whether he was planning to do anything to me, but there was a certain sense of foreboding in the air. He couldn't be someone working at the opera, for those people didn't enter the cellars. This only left me with one terrible possibility who he could be: one of the people who were behind the attacks. I didn't wait for him to verify my suspicion.
I spun around, ready to run away as quickly as possible. The man was probably faster than me, but maybe I'd be able to hide somewhere in a corner till he'd be gone. Yet I never got the chance to carry out that plan. As I turned around, the heel of my shoe got caught in the hem of my skirt. Trying to free it, I tumbled sideways and hit the stone wall hard with the side of my head. Pain burst through my head like liquid fire, making me gasp.
My knees gave way, and I mentally prepared myself for landing on the floor, for there was nothing on the smooth wall I could have held onto. Yet I never reached the floor. Strong arms caught me. I smelled a sickening mixture of cheap soap and stale sweat and heard a voice whisper:
"I wonder what my master will say to this… development.".
Then the pain in my head grew too strong, and I sank into darkness.
Author's note: I know that in a few seconds' time, you won't like me very much anymore. It's time for my annual holiday in London. I'll be gone till the 6th of March. If you need anything to do in the meantime, I recommend trying to find out who's planning the attacks. You might want to re-read a few chapters that you think important. Good luck!