𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘭 [ RE-WRITE ON HOLD ]

xi. | chapter eleven

Belle

A few hours later Belle was aware of music, which softly wakes her. Firstly she was confused as to why she was not in the attic but in a boat. Then she remembers it. The masked man she met on her first day. The promise she made. 

She could trust him, couldn't she? Her father told her she could trust men like him. He looks like him, sort of.. Belle raises her head from the cushions and sees a woman in a white nightgown with a dress robe tied over it, walking out of a part of the lair with curtains before it. It was Christine and she is singing.

" I remember there was mist.
Swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake.
There were candles all around
and on the lake there was a boat.
And in the boat was a man.. "

She looks at the man behind the organ and Belle glances over there as well. It was the masked man, who was playing and occasionally writing something down on a piece of parchment. Not wanting the two to see that she was awake, she lays her head on the cushions but with her eyes open. Christine walks over to the figure and runs her hand over his clothed shoulder and his face.

" Who is that shape in the shadows?
Whose is that face in the mask? "

The hand on his face goes to the mask, the fingers curling around the white attribute. Belle holds her breath in as Christine pulls it off. Then, all escalated and the man pushed her on the ground roughly. He begins yelling at her.

" Damn you!
You little prying Pandora!
You little demon!
Is this what you wanted to see?
Curse you!
You little lying Delilah!
You little viper!
Now you can not ever be free!
Damn you..
Curse you.. "

He takes a moment to recover from his first reaction of rage, before continuing in a more normal tone against Christine, who is obviously scared of him. Belle, who has sight precisely on the two adults, leans down closer to the bottom of the boat while she sneaks a peek over the rim.

The man walks up to the soprano's body on the floor and the candlelight gives Belle clear sight of why he was angry and what scared Christine that much. His deformity. It was.. awful to look at. She didn't want to look at it anymore, yet couldn't pry her eyes away from it.

The skin was grey, the veins big on the thin skin layer and his cheek was sunken. But his voice is enchanting and takes her into trance once again when he resumes singing.

" Stranger than you dreamt it?
Can you even dare to look
or bear to think of me?
This loathesome gargoyle
who burns in hell but secretly yearns for heaven?
Secretly, secretly..
But, Christine..

Fear can turn to love.
You'll learn to see, to find the man behind the monster
This repulsive carcass, who seems a beast
but secretly dreams of beauty
Secretly, secretly..
Oh, Christine.. "

The man holds his hand out to Christine, who hands him his mask back. After securing it, he brushes his fake black hair backwards and stares down at the still trembling soprano. "Come, we must return. Those two fools who run my theater will be missing you."

Belle quickly closes her eyes when she hears their footsteps come closer. Then she hears Christine gasp, probably after seeing her in the boat. "What is Belle doing here," she asks.

"Do not worry, I will take care of young Belle myself." She notices that a shadow stands over her and feels arms wrap around her small figure. It lifts her up from the boat, making her heart beat a little faster in fear for him and what he will do to 'take care of her'.

Her body softly rocks back and forth in his grasp and he lays her down on a soft surface. "Sleep soft, little Angel. I will come back for you soon." The only thing she hears is swirling of fabric, either from the curtain or his own cloak, and then.. nothing.

She dares to raise her head and notices that she is in the same room where Christine came from. The masked man probably brought Christine back to the Opera House, which will be in chaos at finding out she had disappeared. 

Belle sighs and plucks at the blankets. She could not go back on her own, so there was nothing left to do but wait for the man to come back. She stands up from the bed and leaves the bedroom to look around this mysterious layer.

Everything was lightened with candles. She once again notices the mirrors and the gigantic organ the man sat behind this morning. Belle gathers her courage and looks at the work the man had composed.

"Don Juan Triumphant..," she mutters. She reads through it when suddenly, a hand grabs her wrist. "What are you doing, little Angel?" Belle turns around to stare at the masked man. "I-I-" "Don't even try. Leave my work where it belongs and follow me."

He turns his back to her and walks towards the boat, which he cleared from blankets and cushions. He was not looking at her when he said: "I heard Madame Giry wanted you to dance in Il Muto?"

"She does, but I am not even good," Belle asks, grasping the hand he reaches out to her to help her into the boat. "The other ballerinas of Opera Populaire talked about it. They said she prepared you by the routine she gave you," he says, taking the long stick in his gloved hands as he pushes them off the shore.

Belle begins thinking back to her sessions with Madame Giry. She does remember that the woman kept teaching her the same routine again and again. Was she really to perform on stage? She shivers noticably, causing a reaction from the man behind her.

"Do not fret, I shall teach you. If you come to the grant stage at midnight, I shall await there," he says. She lifts her head up until it lays in her neck so she could look at him. "Why do you do this? Why do you insist of teaching me?"

A smirk glaces his face. "I am a great fan of arts, young child. That's all you need to know."