The Point Of No Return ||Phantom of the opera love story||

V

I awoke later that day to the sound of light snoring. Looking to my right I see the sleeping figure of Christine. How long have I been here? I thought, rising from the small bed. At this very moment it seemed quite quiet, which, of course, is quite unusual for an opera house. As I exited the room all I could hear was the sound of the staircase floorboards creek as I steped on them. At first I thought that, for some reason, everyone had abandoned the Opera Populaire, but upon further investigation I was proven wrong; on the stage stood all the cast and crew, including Carlotta with her little group of followers, and the new owners. Listening to them caused me to snort. There was no way in god's name was I to sing along with them. I didn't care if Carlotta left, and I am quite certain neither would anyone else.

Standing off to the side of the stage I watched everyone with a smug smile gracing my pale pink lips, and a hint of laughter shining in my eyes. But quite suddenly I was pulled from my hiding spot, and dragged through the crowd. I was pushed, pulled, hit, kicked, and shoved. I was swirled, twirled, spun, and whirled until I got to where Carlotta was standing. I stood in front of her for a split second, before having my legs knocked right out from under me, forcing me be crumpled on the floor in a sitting position at her feet. A smug smile now graced her lips as she stared down at me. All throughout this sort of embarassement I felt as though I was being watched, but not by all the spectators, but by something else. Looking up, I saw a tall dark shadow move through the catwalk before sending a glance towards me. The glance from the mystery person felt quite eerie yet, in a sick and twisted way, felt rather comforting. But that face. I knew that face. It was the Phantom of the Opera's face, I'm sure of it. There was no mistaking that porcelin white mask. The one that mirrored mine. A grim smile spread across my face as I thought of the possible reasons as to why he was watching this scene from above.

I wasn't sure as to why he was here, or exactly where he was now. But I knew that something bad was going to happen. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. A horrible, wrenching, aching, hollow pain in the pit of my stomach. This was the same feeling I had when I was a child before being called into my father's work room for the first, and last, time. This feeling was quite painfull, which in turn, made it quite noticable. I couldn't dare to think of what horrible thing would happen, not that I wanted to anyways, but all that my mind could focus on was that stare. That dark, forbbiding stare that held so much emotion in just one glance.

The stare of a man who had nothing to loose, but had everything on the line.