In The Wings

Act V Scene III

Christine's world turned into a blur of sound and color, bright lights burning her eyes and shrieks pulling at her ears. But the one thing that remained completely clear was how the Phantom's - the techie, Eric's - hand was clutched around her wrist. He yanked her along effortlessly, no matter how much she struggled against him. She knew she was being taken right to his dark domain.

"No, don't take me back there, please!" Christine shrieked.

"Don't take you back? Do you think I would want to go back there if I didn't have to?" the Phantom hissed. "You don't even know the half of it, Christine!"

"Please," she cried. "Please, don't take me back there!" She heard her voice cracking in desperation, part of her beginning to go into panic mode. But as she ended up erupting into gulping cries, the Phantom didn't even seem to notice her distress.

Her bout of panic continued to torment her all the way back to where the Phantom hid himself away from the world. Now that she was too distressed to offer any real resistance, he could easily toss her over to the floor. He had control over Christine, and there was nothing she could do.

"We're here once more, to the dungeon of my dark despair, the prison of my mind! We may be above the theater, but it is darkness deep as hell, Christine!"

"No..." Christine could hardly push out anything more after using so much of her energy during her period of panic. "Please...let me go...take me back...we can...we can fix this..."

"Fix this? I believe that is thoroughly impossible. Ian Peterson is dead, Christine! I murdered him myself, I would know!"

Christine stared at him with wide eyes, not sure what she should do. She could shriek, she could cry, she could scream at the top of her lungs - there were so many things that were possible. But none of them seemed to be something that she was actually capable of pulling off at the moment. Something in her mind switched off, leaving her feeling almost blank and empty within.

"Why?" she asked.

"Why what? Why, you ask, was I bound and chained in this cold and dismal place? Oh, before this point I had not committed any mortal sin, but because wickedness of my abhorrent face, Christine! Why? Why did I kill Ian? He was just like all of the others hounding me, hating me - I wouldn't deal with it any longer! Why, Christine?" His voice turned to a more desperate tone as he continued.

"Why would no one give me any kind words or compassion? Christine, why?"

His questions, his pleas for some sort of explanation, had no true answer. Christine noticed this immediately and forced herself to stay as silent as possible. The occasionally shuddering breath would still pass from her lips, but for the most part she was successful.

"Well, I know part of the reason why. I've known since my first day on this horrid world. I was born with this scar," the Phantom said, almost as if he were spitting out poison rather than telling a tale of his life. "I did nothing wrong, did nothing to deserve it - but my parents hated the very sight of me. A hideous child. That's all I ever was to them. Why would they ever want to waste their hard earned money and time on such a hideous, horrible child?"

"No," Christine replied, feeling her stomach dropping. "No, no parent would do that."

"Oh, but I was a mischevious young thing!" he cried out. "Always playing little magic tricks here and there, scaring them even though it was just my way of having fun!"

"Then it was your fault!" Christine cried out in response, hoping that some part of her actually sounded convincing. She was sure it wasn't the case. "Surely...surely there could've been something you could do."