Angel of small death and the codeine scene

Christine was still trembling as she stared at the spot where the infamous Phantom stood minutes ago before he vanished into thin air. The guests were still screaming and the chatter of terror seemed neverending. But the soprano was deaf to the world around her. Still staring. Still scared. 

“Christine! Christine!” Raoul called her, unaware of how his voice was barely recognizable among all the voices swarming in her head. He needed to hear her speak or do anything. He needed to know that his Lotte was well. But the poor girl was petrified. Who wouldn’t be? That crazed lunatic had startled everyone! “Do you believe me now..?” Christine mumbled, still staring with her blue eyes wide open. In an attempt to distract her, Raoul wrapped an arm around her in a protective manner and tried to get her away from the overwhelming crowd of panicked people. The poor Vicomte had to practically drag the girl away and protect her from a wretched woman like Carlotta who would not stop screaming about how this was all Christine’s fault. 

He would never admit it, but he was scared too. Yet he was trying his best to stay strong for his Christine.

“Believe what, Lotte?” He asked once they managed to escape from the crowd to somewhere more private. “Everything that I told you, Raoul!” Christine exclaimed, her voice trembling. The patron’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Everything about my Angel of music! About the Opera ghost!” She continued frantically. Still confused, Raoul spoke to her softly, “What are you talking about?” “For God’s sake! Erik! He is real! You just saw him!” The woman shrieked. “You saw him! Do you believe me now?!” He almost jerked away as she grabbed his shoulders and shook him violently while crying. The girl had gone mad! In a swift move, he grabbed her hands and peeled them from his shoulders. He was frustrated with this conversation and he thought that they worked it out months ago. And yet here she was again with the same story! 

“Lotte, I want you to stop with this nonsense at once! That man out there was no angel or demon. Nor was he the ghost of your father. He was just a maniac who wanted to terrorize cheerful people.” He paused to take a deep breath once he noticed his voice getting too loud. “And if what you say is true and he is the one behind all the troubles in the Opera House, Then I will have the police arrest him. But whatever you do, do not let him pollute your mind.” His hands were now on her shoulders and he was breathing quickly from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. His angry expression softened when he noticed her bottom lip trembling and the tears in her eyes that threatened to come out. 

“Your father is dead, Christine… He’s been dead for years now. I know how painful it is, but daydreaming can not bring him back… That… That person you saw is nothing but a man. Erik, you said? You have to let go of these childish thoughts. He is not a magical creature from heaven or hell. He’s just a man…” He spoke softly and tried to pull her into a loving embrace to comfort her when she pushed him away with a frown. Shocked by her, Raoul opened his mouth to speak but she had already walked away. He would’ve called after her or even followed her. But he also knew that his words had hurt her greatly. So this was not the time to apologize. Christine needed to be alone for now. He could apologize all he wanted once she came back to him with a clearer mind. 

How dare he! How dare he not believe her and use her father’s death against her when all she asked him was for him to believe her! It wasn’t a matter of ghosts and angels. It never had been. All she wanted was for him to believe her and for him to stop babying her. 

Her head was burning with disappointment and disbelief and she walked aimlessly down the long corridor, going wherever. She didn’t care. All she needed was to be alone so she could think without the pressure of others. 

Her feet seemed to drag her to the dining area and there, sitting at the table was the familiar man with the Red Death costume. And for some reason, instead of running to him with fuming anger, she just watched him. From what she could see, he was looking down at the fine Oakwood table as his fingers traced patterns on it. Or he was merely observing? She was not sure. The large feather hat that he wore at the main hall was now resting on the table but that terrifying skull mask was still on his face. The look of it made her cringe and she subconsciously drew back.