Christine awoke in her rather large bed and rubbed the sleep out of her pale, green eyes. She slowly looked around the dimly lit room, taking in her surroundings. The young soprano should have been used to it, she knew, but as her eyes adjusted to look around the charming room, she was reminded once again of how different it was compared to the rest of the house. Suddenly, a piece of paper caught her eye. Christine quickly got up and scurried across the room to retrieve the seemingly insignificant article. The young soprano looked down, and her stomach dropped as she recognized the handwriting as none other than the perfect manuscript of her childhood sweetheart.
Another one? She thought to herself. This is the third this week.
As the week progressed she had begun receiving more and more notes, requesting her presence at a gala or on a walk in the park or whatever Raoul felt up to that day. And of course, Christine had to go along with it to protect her angel. He liked to introduce her to his friends of high society, and always seemed to flaunt her before them as if she was some grand prize he had one. She was beginning to get sick of it, but if she ever spoke out, Raoul would strike her and tell her to be silent. Christine resorted to using makeup to cover up different bruises he had left on her body, and it tore her apart to keep lying to her angel. She snapped out of her thoughts and read the note.
Little Lotte,
Meet me in the garden behind the opera house at precisely 11 a.m.
Until then,
~Raoul
The young soprano groaned and crumbled up the paper in her delicate fist, angrily tossing the note onto the ground. She stormed into her closet in a less than pleasant mood, and put on a dress. Not caring about her appearance for her date with Raoul, she didn't bother to look glance at the dress' appearance.
Christine went back outside of the closet and hurriedly pinned half of her hair back, leaving the other half cascading down her back. When the young soprano looked in the mirror, she was disgusted by what she saw. She hated the fact that she looked fine on the outside, save for a few marks left by Raoul, when she was slowly falling to pieces on the inside. She sighed and applied makeup on her bruises, checking her appearance once more before walking out into the hallway. Christine took a deep breath and went into the music room where she found Erik, who was angrily pounding on the weary keys of his beat up organ.
"Erik?" She called hesitantly, not sure if she should disturb him or not.
He turned around, his frustrated demeanor instantly changing once he saw his Christine standing in the doorway. He relaxed, and a slight smile creeped onto his masked face as he looked over Christine. "Yes, my dear?" He asked softly.
"I-um, I'm going to go out for a little bit," Christine said timidly, messing with her hands as she spoke. She hated lying to her angel, she really did, but she didn't know what else to do.
Erik sighed softly, looking down at the keys of his organ in silent contemplation. After a moment of tense quietude, he spoke once more, "Again? This is the third time you have gone out this week...I am starting to feel like you do not wish to be here."
Christine shook her head vigorously, stepping towards Erik to place a gentle hand to his shoulder, "Of course not, angel."
The masked man tensed, but relaxed slightly as he reached up to take hold of her hand, his thumb grazing over the flesh gently. "Where are you going?" He queried softly, looking up at her with gleaming golden eyes.
"I'm...going to see Meg," she mumbled, avoiding his gaze by leaning down and gently pressing a kiss to his forehead.
He nodded, not fully convinced that she was telling the truth. "Alright... Do you know when you will be back?" He asked, bringing her hand to his lips to press a soft kiss to her tender skin.
"Well, two hours, perhaps?" She said nervously, faking a smile as she looked down at him.
Erik sighed, and dropped her hand. "Alright... Have a nice time," he said with a reluctant smile.
"I shall see you soon, angel," she whispered, planting one last kiss to his forehead. She backed up, turned on her heel, and scurried out to go meet Raoul in the garden.
Erik stayed at his organ, running his fingers through his dark hair, trying to figure out what was going on with Christine and why she was lying to him about where she was actually going. There was something...off. He couldn't quite place what it was, but he knew Christine, and so he knew there was something wrong. The masked man sighed and got up, deciding to go see if Christine's room held any clue as to her mysterious actions; the actions that had Erik baffled beyond belief.
He slowly approached the door, trying to decide if he should go in or not. If he went in, wouldn't that be disrespecting Christine's privacy? Suddenly the words she spoke that first day, echoed in his mind: "It's okay...This is your house. You can come in here..." He sighed and pushed the door open, even though it was still against his better judgment.
He turned the knob, and slowly walked into her room. The white color was slightly foreign to him, as he was used to being in darkness for most of his life, so his eyes had to adjust for a moment. He had far exceeded her expectations, even if Christine expected nothing, to make sure that she would be perfectly comfortable in her new quarters.
Erik looked around her room, trying to find something that would give him a hint as to why she was acting so strange. He looked quite odd, he realized as he peaked a glimpse of his reflection in her vanity mirror; his tall form dressed all in black as he stood in that dainty, white room. He turned away. Erik carefully glanced around the room, sighing softly when he found nothing. He was about to leave when suddenly, something caught his eye.
He turned back around and quickly walked to the center of the room, where he scooped up a piece of crumpled up paper with his gloved hand.
Little Lotte,
Meet me in the garden behind the opera house at precisely 11 a.m.
Until then,
~Raoul
Erik's mind whirled in hurt and anger as he continuously read the note over and over. Thoughts of her betrayal edged him on and pulled at his heart strings. He crumpled the note up and threw it on her bed, making sure that she would notice it once she came back into her room.
She's cheating on me, he thought angrily to himself, grunting in frustration. She tells me she loves me just to mess with my emotions and to get inside of my mind. She took control of my music...she took control of me! That little vixen!
Erik stormed out of the room and into the elaborate music room. There were mirrors all around the small room, each of them strategically placed to give the illusion that the room was much larger than it actually was. He examined his masked face in the mirror. Groaning in agony, he ripped the piece of porcelain off of his face, revealing his deformity. His hollow cheek caused his bones to be tightly pressed against the delicate, transparent skin. Twisted flesh and blemished skin ran in patches over his face, reaching into his hairline. He snarled at himself, absolutely repulsed by his own face.
No wonder...she could never truly love me... He thought in self-loathing. Of course she would run into the arms of that fop. He's handsome and young... Something that I'll never be.
Erik groaned in heart-splintering agony and placed his mask back on his face. He felt the need to kill. His blood was boiling, and his breathing was becoming short and ragged. Erik punched the mirror in front of him, shattering it into tiny pieces. Shards of the mirror stuck out of his knuckles as blood trickled down his fingers and pooled up on the floor. He continued to punch the mirror, completely numb to the pain. Nothing was right anymore, and nothing could sate the ever growing aching in his heart. The only thing that he could focus on was Christine and how she had betrayed him.
Erik slid to the ground, trying to push back tears that were stinging in his eyes. He let out a cry of frustration and buried his face in his hands. "You stupid, stupid man! How dare you think that a creature such as her could ever love a man such as you?" He screamed at himself, his normally melodic voice cracking with emotion.
He sat like that for quite some time. Silent. Unmoving. He didn't know how much time had passed, but suddenly he began to hear faint footsteps coming from the tunnel. He quickly stood up and composed himself, even though his rage and agony were starting anew.
"Erik? I'm home, angel," Christine called softly as she walked into the music room, a small smile appearing on her face as she saw Erik. She was glad to be back after the long hours she had spent being the vicomte's dancing monkey.
Any other time, Erik's heart would have fluttered, and he would have been filled with a great pleasure to see his little song bird, but not now. His blood was boiling and his fists were clenched tightly into balls at his side. Christine could tell there was something wrong, so she silently approached him, reaching out a hand to comfort him. Erik snapped, pushing her hand away as he strode past her, unable to meet her gaze.
"I want you gone. I don't wish to see your face again!" Erik growled at the young soprano, vaguely glancing over his shoulder as he tried, with his whole being, to contain his rage. He felt betrayed, beyond belief, and he was unsure of how he would act if she attempted to lie her way out of her actions.
Christine furrowed her elegant brows, confused and hurt by Erik's actions. "What do you m-," she started, but was quickly cut off.
"Pack your things and go! You are unwelcome here!" Erik shouted in acrimony, anger coursing through his veins. He was finding it increasingly difficult to keep calm; his infuriation practically making him see red.
"Erik, angel, what's going on?" She whimpered, taken aback by his sudden rash behavior.
"Oh, as if you don't know!" He roared in petulance, his eyes flashing with unkempt vexation.
"Angel... I really don't know what you're talking about..." She whispered, stepping towards him once more in hopes of soothing his apparently troubled mind. He jerked away from her, finally meeting her does brown eyes with his burning gaze. He let out a humorless laugh; a maddening laugh that echoed hauntingly off of the walls of the music room.
"Oh, of course you don't," he growled, striding before her so fast she almost lost her balance. "Uncorrupt, saccharine Christine has nothing to suppress? Nothing to expose? You act so innocent but you know exactly what I'm talking about! You conniving, little vixen! You have everyone fooled that you deserve their pity. You have created this perfect image: the sweet, little, innocent girl who lost her father..." He laughed that mad, humorless laugh once more, "Ah, but my dear, you cannot fool me! I can see through this veil of modesty you wear! I can see you for the hellion you are! You are a liar, and a deceiver! You toy with men's emotions to get what you want!" He grasped her chin with his gloved hand, yanking her face to look up at him, ignoring the fearful tears in her pale green eyes. "Well, you know what I want?" He growled, getting close to her face, his golden eyes boring into her very soul, "I want you out. Gone. And to think, I dedicated the last nine years of my life to you and trying to jump start your career. And this is how you repay me? How dare you?" He let go of her chin and strided away from her, once again, unable to meet her gaze. He looked down at his gloved hands, splinters of glass sticking up from out of the fabric as he repeated, in a whisper, "How dare you?"
Christine swallowed, her eyes pooling up with tears as she listened to the words that were coming out of her angel's mouth. As he continued to speak, the words only seemed to grow harsher, each time he started a new sentence, it felt like he was plunging a stake right through her heart. "Erik, please, I don't understand...What did I do?" She asked softly, slowly walking towards him.
"No more talk," the masked man spat out in anger, "I give you thirty minutes to pack your belongings and go...you are lucky to have even the consideration of that." Erik growled lowly, grabbing Christine's outstretched arm in one swift, jerked movement. He turned her around, striding quickly forward to pull her out of the music room. He dragged her down the narrow hallway, his gloved hand having no mercy on her wrist has she tried to resist his grasp. He didn't even look at her as he opened her bedroom door and flung her inside, slamming the door behind him.
Christine stumbled inside, tears streaming down her face as she splayed out her hands to catch her fall. She slowly stood up, not bothering to move out her skirt or wipe her tears away. As she walked to her bed, she felt as if her body had become numb. She knew she was crying, of course, and that there was a reason for it, but she couldn't quite place what the reason was. She was in too much shock to even think about how she felt. The only thing she could focus on was trying to figure out what she had done to Erik. She had never seen him this mad, this outraged with anyone or anything, much less herself.
Christine sighed, finally wiping her tears as she slowly sat down on her bed. As her body made contact with the comforter-clad mattress, a loud crunching sound pierced the air. She reached under herself and pulled out a piece of paper.
She frowned and unfolded the note, wondering what was inside. As she opened the wadded note, she caught a glimpse of the all too familiar handwriting. She quickly opened it up and scanned over it to find that it was, indeed, the note that Raoul had sent to her, requesting her presence in the opera house's garden.
She furrowed her brow, wondering how it got on her bed since she had left it in a crumpled up mess on the plush, carpeted floor. She sighed and ran her fingers through her chocolate curls, completely oblivious to what had happened.
She stayed where she was, continuing to think. As she did, her mind started to wander to Erik. Christine's eyes widened as she put two and two together. Erik was angry with her. The note had moved. She sighed softly and a groan escapes from her lips as she realized what had happened while she was gone. Erik had read the note.
"Oh god... Erik..." She whispered. She flung her bedroom door open and ran down the hall and into the music room, hoping that her angel would give her the chance to explain herself.