Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of the characters.
Chapter Nine
"I do not know doctor, the girl simply refuses to eat, sleep, for heaven's sake, she refuses to sing! You are positive there is nothing wrong with her, she isn't ill in any way?" Madame Giry's fists clenched in frustration, her gaze flickering from the doctor, to the quiet Vicomte sulking in the corner, to the feeble soprano sitting lifelessly in front of her.
"No Madame Giry, there is nothing wrong with this child. She is in good health, but eh, she needs to eat more. Further self deprivation of food and the girl will surely waste away entirely."
The older woman sighed tiredly, nodding at the doctor. "Very well Monsieur, thank you for your time. Please, allow me to show you to the door, kind sir."
The two walked out of the room at a brisk pace. Raoul waited, listening intently until their footsteps faded away. Once in safety, he flew up to her, grasping her by the shoulders.
"What is the matter with you, you stupid girl? Hm? Attracting all this attention with your little act, making everything obvious. You make me sick!" he spat, slapping her. What made it worse was her refusal to show any emotion. Every slap, insult, name, and threat thrown at her were answered with empty, expressionless faces.
He let her go, striding over to the door. "I'll be back for you in an hour or so. Sophie, or whatever the hell her name is, is expecting me. You'd better be ready by the time I get back."
Once the heavy door clicked shut, the wasting diva shuffled over to the sealed hole in the wall where the entrance to her haven used to be. All she could do was rest her head against the thick wooden boards the Vicomte had nailed over it. She stared blankly at the opposite wall, the tears coming easily as always. What made it worse was that, for some inexplicable reason, Erik hadn't even attempted to visit her. She knew of nothing going on with her love, she was being abused by someone she used to trust, and the worst part was the emptiness the loss of her angel was causing. It was to the point where suicide was becoming an option.
Where was her angel?
XOXOX
Deep below the luxurious Opera Populaire, in a room with an unusual bed, lay a man with a grimace on his troubled face.
About a week ago, after his little encounter with Christine, he decided to venture to the room of his beloved. Before leaving, he bathed, put on his best cloak and suit, cleaned his mask so that it shined like a twinkling star, and carefully picked a dozen beauteous roses from the many he had around his lair. He tied a dazzling black silk ribbon around the batch of tiny hearts, and added a small note in between the ribbon and roses. Lastly, he swiped a small box from his room, and took off. When he reached the damp hallway leading to her room, he paused, nervously tidying his hair and adjusting his mask. Finally he took a deep breath, and proceeded forward. He was in for a nasty shock.
Thick, wooden boards were crudely nailed over the entrance, splinters and nails protruding viciously. Now normally this wouldn't pose even a small challenge to Erik; he could tear out those boards with his bare teeth. But the man had finally connected to a woman for the first time, and it was a woman he loved. Immediately, the first thought that sprung into his mind was one of regret.
'She regrets having done anything with me. She wants nothing to do with me, she despises me. Of course, why would she, or anyone for that matter, want a…a thing like me? I was a fool to think otherwise.'
Beaten, he turned slowly and began heading back to the deepest layers of the opera house, deep into the pits of hell.
Now he lay there, one hand covering his eyes, the other holding the crumpled letter that was supposed to be for Christine. It was times like theses that he appreciated have a horrid face. The home provided by his harsh face was a perfect place to shed tears. No one would ever know that the almighty and terrifying Phantom shed tears of pain and weakness.
This was his life now, a majority of his time was spent on his bed gazing longingly at the crumpled little note. He sighed raggedly.
He'd worked too hard to give up that easily. One more try wouldn't hurt. He jumped off the bed, snatched his cloak off the floor, and tossed the note on the bed side table next to the withering, near-black roses.
XOXOX
"Well, you actually listened for once. Now that we're both ready, let's go. We have an announcement to make. That ring alone isn't doing it's job. Let's go." Raoul yanked the poor girl up off her chair, and practically dragged her out of the room.
"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice cracked.
"Grand Hall, if you must know. Just shut your mouth and smile the whole time." A nasty knot formed in Christine's empty stomach. In a way, she knew what was coming, and with her condition, there was no stopping it.
"Madame Giry, the only advice I can give you is to just watch her carefully. Attempt to get her to eat as often as you can. And if that boy isn't around, well, the better for her."
"What do you mean, Monsieur?" she asked, knowing very well what the answer was.
"Madame, pardon me, but Monsieur le Vicomte gives me a dreaded feeling. The way he hovers about, the way Mademoiselle Daae pales when he's present, it's just frightening. Do look after the dear girl, Madame." he finished, his eyes wide and sincere. She nodded.
"I will, Monsieur. Au revoir." She watched him get into his coach, her smile faltering as it clopped away. She sighed, turning to head back inside. What had happened these past few months to make everything go wrong?
He'd decided to take the long way to her room. He hadn't made his usual rounds around the house in ages. Besides, it wasn't like she really wanted to see him anyway.
He walked through the dressing rooms. Empty. Walked past a few cleaning supply rooms. Empty. Brushed past the managers' office. Empty. He walked through every nook and cranny there but saw no one. At last, he came to the Grand Hall. Surprisingly, it was packed to the brim with people. All the ballet rats, the managers, a few frequent visitors and the like. Everyone was there, and they were all focused on something atop the stairs. He turned around in the small space he was occupying in the wall. When his eyes finally focused, his heart fell to the floor, his breathing halted, and all the wounds tore open once again. Christine stood there, hand in hand with Raoul, an enormous smile on both their faces. Hot tears rolled down his porcelain cheek.
"You all have probably noticed the ring Christine has been sporting around this past week. Well, just to reassure all of you who weren't sure, we are engaged to be married. In fact, the wedding will be this Sunday. You're all invited!" Christine's false smile faltered here, but it went unnoticed by Erik, whose vision was much too blurred to see anything. Furious and hurt, he stormed off.
"Until the wedding, dear friends!" Raoul finished. A few of the younger ballet girls, who'd had relations with the Vicomte, looked around uncomfortably. The young naïve girls were barely aware he'd only used them. Now he was to get married? He'd been with Christine this whole time. It made them slightly sick.
XOXOX
"This Sunday? Raoul that's much too soon, it's near impossible," Christine croaked shortly afterward in her room.
"Nothing is out of my reach. If I want a wedding this Sunday, I will have it. I told you Christine, I never lose. Now excuse me, I'm going out with some friends for dinner. Good-bye."
The door clicked shut. She rolled her eyes. By friends, he surely meant a random prostitute. She rubbed her hand; Raoul had been crushing it all the while, making sure that she'd kept smiling. She looked to the floor. All she could really do was sit there, hoping for a miracle.
She heard the door creak open. She was filled with fear and hope all at once. Fear that it might be Raoul again, and hope that it might be Erik.
"Christine, we must talk," came the calm voice of Madame Giry. She looked up, her eyes already filling with tears. She almost sprang off the bed, the most energy she'd shown in days, to hug the older woman. The woman she'd looked to as a mother for so long.
"What is happening? You are to be married so soon, when I can clearly see that you don't want to be anywhere near the Vicomte. Tell me everything. What has been going on these past months, and don't leave any detail out."
Taking a deep breath, the younger of the two began to narrate the series of events that lead up to the date. Madame Giry was slightly shocked at what Christine had done with Erik, but was filled with a strong sense of joy as she observed the girl's facial expressions. She was smiling for the first time in days.
"And now, well, he hasn't even come to see me. But I don't blame him. Someone as beautiful as him should just forget about someone like me." she whispered. Madame Giry sighed. She really had fallen for the masked man. Fallen like a ton of bricks.
"Well, ma cherie, have you thought, perhaps, that those boards over that entrance might have given him the wrong impression, if he'd already tried to see you?"
"I don't know. He could tear those things in half with one hand."
"Yes, but Christine, you know what kind of man this is. He's sensitive, my dear. He might have thought that maybe you had them put there. He might think that you don't want him, after what happened, and that can be very damaging to someone like Erik."
Christine's eyes widened, fear passing over her face.
"Oh no, what have I done? Oh this is all my fault, Madame Giry, what do I do?"
"Calm down my dear. Just, please, allow me to talk to him-"
"No, with all do respect Madame, I think I should be the one to talk to him. I've done him this damage, I must be the one to fix it."
"Very well", she sighed, " if you think it right, then we will find a way for you to speak with him. It is only Tuesday, we still have time."
"I hope, though, it is enough."
XOXOX
Never had he sobbed so hard. Small objects lay about his lair, broken and smashed to bits.
What had he been thinking? Someone as beautiful as her…of course it was just out of pity. He sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. When he could finally manage to take a deep, shaky breath, he looked up. The note still lay there, wrinkled. He reached out a trembling hand to pick it up. Slowly, he unfolded it, sharp daggers piercing him repeatedly as he read the four foolishly hopeful words over and over again.
Anger and repulsion filled him again. He tossed it aside, then buried his face in his pillow, soaking the feather stuffed sack.
The note lay unwanted and unused on the floor. The lines that read "Will you marry me?" were smeared with fresh tears from the broken man .
A/N: I know, finally, a new chapter!!!