It had been nearly six months since my last encounter with Christine. I made my appearances at the opera few and far between, for I feared running into Christine and her husband. Her husband…the words still sounded so foreign to me. I had come to terms with the fact that Christine was out of my life, but I do not think I will ever be able to accept that she is married to Erik.
Erik, the notorious Phantom of the Opera.
At first I did not believe he really existed. I thought my lovely Christine was hallucinating; there is no such thing as the Angel of Music. I soon realized she was not delusional – she really was receiving lessons from a mysterious teacher. Once she started disappearing for days at a time, I should have known there was something special about her tutor.
It seems he was deformed from birth; his mother showed him no affection and he ran away from home at a very young age. Mason, architect, assassin, magician, musician, composer…he was a man of many trades. It was no wonder Christine fell in love with him. Her kindness allowed her to see past his deformity and see the man beneath the white porcelain mask.
I tried to get her back. I tried to convince her that living under the opera with a deformed genius was not the proper life path for a vibrant young woman. For a while I thought my plan was working; she distanced herself from Erik and we became engaged, although it was apparent she still had feelings for her Angel of Music. I stupidly forced Christine to choose between the two of us, and she chose him.
My mother would have told me to fight; to win her over. She would have said "to hell with kismet; if you love her you must fight to be with her." I suppose that method worked for my mother. She had fought off gaggles of women to be with my father. I was never as ruthless as she or my brother. I took after my father; he had his pride and did not like losing, but would accept defeat rather than fighting to the death over something that was not meant to be. After all, aren't both parties supposed to be happy in a relationship? I'm sure I could have found a way to kill Erik, but that still would not have made Christine love me.
To get my mind off of Christine I had started taking long horseback rides alone through the countryside. The fresh air and the solitude helped clear my head. One day while I was out riding, I saw a young couple swimming in a small lake. They were obviously lovers forced to meet secretly, for she appeared to be the daughter of a wealthy nobleman, while he was a lowly blacksmith. As I watched them swim together, I realized how foolish I had been in trying to win Christine's heart. The wealthy girl was sure to be forced into an arranged marriage, but her heart would always belong to her beloved blacksmith. Had I stolen Christine away from Erik, I would have never had all of her love. I rode home with a new feeling of peace that day, and it was the first sign that my broken heart would someday be whole again.
I have always loved Paris in the winter; the fresh, white snow, the wisps of smoke rising from chimneys, the festive decorations. I walked down the icy streets, not heading any place in particular. I have always enjoyed roaming the streets around the holiday season; everyone is always in a good mood, anticipating the upcoming holiday parties.
I did not realize I was outside of the Paris Opera until I recognized an oddly familiar cloaked figure on the street parallel to me. Her small frame was outlined in a beautiful crimson cloak. The cloak alone must have cost a small fortune. I caught a glimpse of a matching crimson gown underneath the cloak, which seemed to be tailored exactly to her measurements, with the gold braided edging nearly touching the ground.
She looked as though she was waiting for someone. Perhaps she was waiting for Erik. I was not sure if I should say hello. It had been nearly a year since we had last spoken, but it may be too soon. Besides, I did not particularly want to run into Erik. I grabbed a newspaper from a nearby stand, and casually sat down on a bench. I held the newspaper up so I could just see Christine over the top of the black and white pages.
After observing her for several moments, I saw whom she was waiting for. It was a young boy, no more than ten years of age. He greeted her happily, and handed her a note. She seemed greatly disturbed after quickly reading the note. She handed the boy several francs, and began to walk quickly toward the far end of the Opera House.
It was not usually my hobby to play detective, but I was extremely curious to find precisely how to reach the underground home where Erik and Christine reside. Now you must understand, I did not intend to follow her at first, but as she rounded the corner to the alley, my curiosity betrayed me and I began to follow.
She ran quickly down the alley until she reached the gates of the Rue Scribe, which led to a series of underground passages. I knew that I must keep a good distance between us, so that she would not suspect that she had a follower; yet if I did not keep close enough, I would surely loose her and die trying to escape from these black passages.
I was beginning to think she was insane for running through the passages like she was, but then she reached a bridge. I knew I could not follow her across it; I would have to wait until she was on the other side. It did not take long until I was safely across, and I had caught up to her again. This time, she came out of the passages and led me to the banks of an underground lake. Knowing that Erik must be somewhere near, I quietly hid myself behind some reeds.
I watched a tall, lanky figure step out of a house on the far side of the lake. I knew from his catlike elegance that it was Erik. He got in a small boat and rowed across to Christine. He walked over to her and they kissed. I was within earshot, so I could hear them speaking.
"Hello my love," Erik greeted her warmly.
"Hello Erik," she answered quickly. "I received the note. I am afraid the news is not good."
"Come, we shall go inside and discuss this where it is warmer."
He gently lifted Christine into the boat, and I watched Erik gracefully row them across the lake from my hiding place. I knew the only way I could possibly get to them was by swimming across the lake. I waited until they were inside the house, then I darted toward the lake. I had no doubt that the lake was going to be very cold. I removed my jacket, for there was no reason to keep it on, and quietly waded into the dark icy water.
Luckily for me, the lake was not very large and I made it to the other side without much trouble. When I arrived, I was shivering. I looked around for some sort of covering, but all I could find was an old sheet. Quickly, I wrapped myself in the thin ivory sheet and crept towards some shrubbery underneath one of the windows.
Inside, I could hear Erik playing a piano, or at least, I guessed it was a piano. I was never very musically inclined. After a few bars, I heard him pause.
"Thank you angel," he said.
"Of course," Christine answered.
I raised my head so I could see out the window, and I saw Christine sitting in a chair next to the piano, where Erik was seated. They both had their backs to me, and I was hoping that they would not turn around.
"Now, what was this note all about?" he asked her.
"As I said before, the news was not good. It seems that Nadir has not yet returned from Persia. Darius is very worried about him."
"I am sure it is nothing to worry about. Nadir can take care of himself."
"I suppose you are right. Nadir is very worldly…" Christine replied.
Erik resumed playing the piano. By now, I was terribly cold. The water had completely penetrated through my skin, or so it felt. When I heard Christine's beautiful voice, I turned my attention back towards the window.
In your eyes
are my secrets that I've never shown you
In my heart I feel I've
always known you
In your arms there's a comfort that I never
knew
You're what I've been waiting for, there's no one like you
Sure as the
sunrise, pure as a prayer
You fashioned hope right out of thin
air
Every dream I abandoned, seems it could come true
I believe
in miracles, there's no one like you
Innocent as a
newborn in a world so frightening
It's as if my world's been
struck by lightning
Every dream I abandoned, seems it could come
true
I believe in miracles, there's no one like you
The moment Christine stopped singing, Erik took her into his arms and covered her mouth with his. He stood up and swept her into his arms, and gently placed her on the nearby sofa, where he began divesting her of the expensive gown. I have never been the voyeuristic type; however, I seemed to be frozen in place, unable to tear my eyes away from the display of passion on the other side of the window.
I watched as she not-so-innocently removed his clothing, and pulled his body on top of hers. My mind screamed at me to turn away as he penetrated her soft flesh, but I could not. I stared in both wonder and horror as she dug her nails into his back and softly called out his name, her voice dripping with desire. He pulled her body tightly to his, and thrust deeper into her until they both collapsed.
Once it was over, I lowered my head from the window and ducked into the shrubbery. The sheet had now soaked up the water from my clothes, and was probably not keeping me any warmer. I closed my eyes, trying to get the image of Erik and Christine out of my head.