The Soprano of the Opera

by classof1832

Two men control Christine. One, the "ghost" of the opera who gives her a voice. The other, a childhood friend who gives her a scarf. Her decision between them will not only endanger the memory of her beloved father, but the very fate of the Opéra Populaire. 25th Anniversary.

5. Chapter 5

Chapter Four: The Monster Behind the Man

Christine woke on a luxurious Turkish settee, in a room lit with candles. For a moment, she did not know where she was.

Then she remembered. The mirror, the mask, the gondola, the wedding gown. Erik.

Christine sat up and looked around cautiously. The room was littered with scores of music, pages and pages of composition. She picked up one sheet and read: Past the point of no return / the final threshold. The words made no sense to her. She stood and opened the door.

Erik was sitting at the organ, furiously writing. He would stop every so often to play a few notes, and then inscribe them on the staff.

Her curiosity came back. I wonder what he conceals behind the mask… She stepped directly behind Erik, but he did not notice her.

She reached out to the right side of his face but hesitated. Then she regained confidence, and lifted the mask off his face.

Erik turned instantly.

The right side of his face was horribly disfigured. Christine could see bone, sinew and part of his skull. She flinched and turned away as he started to bellow curses, the mask clattering to the floor.

"You little Pandora! You Delilah!" he shouted. "Is this what you wanted to see? Is this what you want?" She could not answer and ran to the gate. Erik followed her and seized her wrists, forcing her to turn and look directly at his face. "Look!" he snarled. "Look at what you have done, you demon!" Christine could only stare back as his face was burned into her memory.

Suddenly Erik seemed disgusted with himself, and let her go. Christine sank to the ground, rubbing her wrists. "If you only could know… what has become of the world, because of this face," he said softly.

His mask was lying a few feet from where Christine was sitting. She picked it up gently, gazing at it. How much had this man suffered, just because of his appearance?

For the first time since Christine had met Erik, she pitied him.

She slowly extended her arm, offering him the mask. He looked piteous and distressed before he turned and put on the mask. Then he stood. "I will take you back to the opera house."

Something in his expression mystified Christine. It was a look of captivation and rapture. It was an expression of love.