Is it truly possible to have your chest torn with you still living after the ordeal? Could someone rip your heart in two without a blade? If so, it was happening to me. I, Christine Daae, the bloody orphan of a partial star violinist, actually had two wonderful men fighting over me. Is that possible? I do not deserve this. I was merely a pawn under Erik’s game, and yet he loved me. I used Raoul as a shelter from Erik, and he loved me. What to do?

I was in his lair. Erik’s. It was dark and humid, the mist swirling from the nearby underground lake made me sweat. The immense amounts of stage makeup I did have on were smeared all over my face due to the sweat, as I noticed with my reflection in the water. Or perhaps it was because of my tears. I cry so often I barely notice that I am doing so most of the time. But here I was, after Erik tore me from the stage during Don Juan Triumphant, the most dark and terrifying play ever written. The Operahouse had been forced to perform it, myself included. I was the lead female, playing Aminta, and the lead male, Monsieur Piangi, was Don Juan himself.

My part was mainly to be a seduced young maiden, under the spell of Don Juan. Erik wrote it, I suppose after us. He used to always call me his muse, I guess until now I never realized what he truly meant. Piangi could never sing his part correctly. No one could ever sing the genius of Erik’s music as beautiful as he himself could. He used to sing to me, as a child, when I thought he was the Angel of Music. I suppose I’d always think that he was, until everything went wrong as it did.

Sometime during the performance, somehow, I doubt I’d care to know, when Piangi was to come onto stage as Don Juan, he seemed different. I couldn’t really place how, until he opened his mouth. The most beautiful singing filled the stage, and blessed the ears of the audience. I knew it was him. Erik. He’d somehow replaced Piangi backstage. I’d hoped Piangi was all right, but knowing Erik’s violent tendencies, I knew better.

He sang to me the song we were supposed to, Past the Point of No Return, as was in the script, but when I heard him sing, it sounded like a new song, fresh and seductive. I almost forgot my cue, and as I sang my part, my voice was unsure, raw. I sounded so cracked and amateur compared to the Angel. Eventually I had forgotten we were on stage, in front of an audience and a handful of backstage workers. I forgot we were in front of Raoul, placed in the infamous Box Five.

We worked our way through the song, across the stage, our proletarian dancers accenting each word, each note, with no grace whatsoever. But I barely noticed. All I could see were his icy eyes, burning into me deeper with each gaze. The mask was covering most of his face, but I doubt if it was absent I would notice or care. I’ve seen it before, just a flash, but I’ve also seen Erik’s raging reaction to his bare face, so I’ve not tried to approach the subject since.

My legs were weak; I was pouring my soul, my feelings into my song until we made our way into the upper part of the large piece on stage. We were high in the air, almost close enough to touch the rafters, and despite my deep fear of heights, again, I didn’t notice. I moved to him, I wanted to run into his arms, but then the song would be ruined. I was supposed to be hesitant during my melody, even though that was anything but what I was feeling. When I finally met him in the center, our voices filled the room with such passion and beauty I doubt anyone will forget our harmony.

He held me, stroking his long fingers around my shoulders, eventually my face as well. I remember them clearly; every touch filled my body with electricity. Every movement I felt coming from his body nearly made me faint. Our song finished, but I suppose he wanted to continue, as he whispered in my ear a sweet melody. Say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime… lead me, save me from my solitude…say you want me with you here, beside you… Anywhere you go let me go too. Christine, that’s all I ask of…

And that’s when I made the worst mistake of my life. In front of the silent audience, the policemen hired to kill Erik, Raoul… I tore Erik’s mask from his face, revealing his lifetime disfigurement to the world. I was so in love, so distracted with his voice, that I had forgotten where I was, who I was, what was under the white leather. I was jerked from my thoughts with a collective gasp that erupted from the audience. He said nothing to me, his eyes were empty, as he cut a rope attached to the ladder we were standing on. I later found out the rope the only thing keeping the magnificent chandelier in the ceiling.

Erik held me close, and jumped off of the stagepiece we were on, into a trapdoor hidden by the flames made of cloth, that had been representative of Don Juan’s seductive fire. I remember naught now we landed, or what happened in the auditorium after we left, only what Raoul has told me afterwards. According to him, the chandelier ripped from the ceiling and crashed upon the panicking audience below, erupting in flames. At that point he had left to find me, with the help of Madame Giry, my ballet instructor and adopted mother.

Erik led me through the deep abyss of the twists and turns of the underground underneath the Operahouse, suddenly hostile. He screamed insults and cries at me, all the while gripping my arm, his already pale knuckles becoming as white as the clouds. Why did I do such a thing? Although, thinking back now, I suppose if that didn’t happen the police would have been able to kill him. But I digress.

We reached his lair. It was a rather dreary place, with a strange beauty, like a secret world. Reflections of light off of the water danced on the cave walls, but I was ignoring the beauty. I was concentrating on this immense amount of ugliness before me. Pardon me, I am not referring to Erik’s face, no, god no. I am talking about this side of him I’ve never seen. Well, I’ve seen it before, but not to this extent. And for the same reason…

He bolted to that disgusting mannequin. He had created one resembling me, made of wax, clothed in a magnificent wedding gown. Without a word he tore the dress from the doll without ripping a seam, and threw it to my chest. I knew what he wished for me to do, so I left the area and dressed in the silken fabric without a fuss, returning to a silent Phantom.

I couldn’t stand this anymore. I had to defend myself, but it came out as more of an attack to him. “Have you gorged yourself at last in your lust for blood?” No answer, I saw no motion. “Am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh?” I didn’t realize what I had said until it was out of my mouth. Of course he longed for me. He’d said so many times, and craved touching me always. Again, no motion or reaction from him. He just stood, facing away from me.

The silence had lasted forever, until: “That fate which condemns me to wallow in blood has also denied me the joys of the flesh. This face, this infection, which poisons our love…” My chest felt as if I had been hit there. A hole formed in my stomach, and I felt weak, my body racked with guilt. I almost said something else, and I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Just a small squeak, like the dirty rat I am.

His face had nothing to do with my love! I loved him with my entire being! It was the lying, the killing, everything. If he could just trust me, just believe that I saw past it… I suppose he couldn’t imagine trusting someone after a life of solitude.

As if he was reading my mind, a small whisper escaped his lips as he pulled the wedding veil off of the dummy and pushed it onto me. “This face, which earned a mother’s fear and loathing. A mask, my first unfeeling scrap of clothing.” He pulled me to a large mirror, much more firm than necessary. “Pity comes too late!” Did he think I pitied him? “Turn around and face your fate! An eternity of this,” He pointed at his own face violently, “Before your eyes.”

I couldn’t bear it any longer. This self- deprecating slander was hurting him terribly, and I had to stop it. I looked into his eyes, and pushed a small voice out of me. “This haunted face holds no horror for me now. It’s in your soul that the true distortion lies!” He shrunk away, and somehow, I saw a bit of light in his eyes then, until a splash broke the peaceful moment.

He glanced away, and smiled evilly. “Wait, my dear, I think we have a guest!” I jerked my head away from the Angel, and saw Raoul at the entrance of the cave, almost hidden behind the cullis gate. Erik shrieked to Raoul, grinning with such hatred that I began to cry once more. “Sir, this is indeed an unparalleled delight! I had rather hoped you would come. And now my wish comes true- you have truly made my night!”

I whispered Raoul’s name, trying to warn him, but then he replied, “Free her! Do what you like, only free her!” Dear god, no. Raoul, my childhood friend. My shelter from Erik’s hatred. My light in His night, please no…

Erik spun to me, his voice cold and filled with malice. He spat, “Your lover makes a passionate plea!” I could see the insecurity in his eyes. He wasn’t as in control as he wished to be, but I begged Raoul to stop, God knows what Erik would do.

Raoul continued ranting about his love for me, filling the room with his useless begs. The two men’s cries entered my mind, but I did nothing. I stood in confusion, my heart being tossed back and forth between the men.

At some point Erik opened the gate, I remember naught how he did it, or what happened next. All I recall is Raoul pinned to the now closed gate, a thick rope wrapped around his neck, looped through the crisscrossing bars, and Erik holding the other end. If Raoul or I made a wrong move, Erik would pull the makeshift Punjab Lasso, stopping Raoul’s heart from beating, his lungs from breathing.

My chest felt stuck in my feet. My legs were weak, and I said nothing. I’ve no idea what happened to my voice. Perhaps it was taken when I ripped the mask off, I don’t know. Erik screamed out his threats and cries for my love. Raoul tried to stop me from doing anything, he told me to run, to save myself. What could I do?

Do you recall me speaking of hearts being ripped in two? This was happening to me. I felt half of me wishing to run away with Raoul, the other longing to fill Erik’s long empty life. Erik shrieked that I was to choose: either stay with him forever, or he’d kill Raoul. I couldn’t think, couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. My entire life? I thought I was to die tonight…

Raoul screamed, his words turning into a blubbering mess. Erik continued showing this expression at me, his eyes filled with lust and hatred. He tightened the rope. Raoul choked, his words becoming rough.

I couldn’t wait any longer. I bolted to Erik, and whispered words that came from nowhere. “Pitiful creature of darkness. What kind of life have you known?” I gazed into his eyes, the sweet coolness stared back. “God gave me courage to show you, you are not alone…” I have no idea why I said it was God who gave me courage; I suppose to spite my Angel. Nevertheless, I leaned in, and kissed him.

His lips were cold, unlike Raoul’s sweet warm kisses. I opened his lips, and poured everything I had been thinking into this one simple action. I closed my eyes, and melted into him. His body was stiff against mine, but I felt his icy fingers feel through my hair. I forced my tongue into his mouth, and began to feel warmth materialize from him.

Erik pulled away. A silence followed, and I tried to smile, but I couldn’t fool anyone. He shook, and his warm hands moved from my body. He shivered, and whispered a small word, I almost couldn’t understand it. “Leave.” The chants of the mob coming for him suddenly were heard. They were the only sound. I tried to see his eyes, tried to understand what he was thinking, but he turned, and was suddenly at his organ.

He dripped with water, I noticed then, we were standing in the underground lake. The wedding dress was heavy, absorbed with water. I scrambled to Raoul, untying the ropes from his neck without thinking. I remember the yells of Erik echoing through the cave.

“Take her- forget me, forget all of this!” No, I don’t want to leave.

“Leave me alone- Forget all you’ve seen.” How could I forget?

“Go now- Don’t let them find you!” The mob? How could I worry about the mob at a time like this?

“Take the boat- leave me here- go now, don’t wait…” I don’t want to leave!

“Just take her and go- before it’s too late. Go! Go now- Go now and leave me!” Never...

He left swiftly and retreated to his bedroom. I couldn’t just leave like that, and despite the oncoming mob, I had to stay. I glanced at Raoul; he was rubbing his neck anxiously and attempting to open the gate. Before he could protest, I slipped back over to Erik. He was singing to himself, the tune sounded familiar, but to this day I cannot place it. Staring at his mask, the leather was cold in his hands, I could see, and he did not put it on.

I shifted my foot, and his face revealed itself to me. I refused to flinch, and with his small whisper of my name, I knew I had to leave. I know not the reason why I thought this. Or why I actually left. I handed him the wedding ring he had forced onto my finger earlier, and without a word I returned to Raoul. The boat was already prepared, and I could tell he had regained his composure.

I weakly smiled, but he did not return the favour. Again, I attempted to lighten the mood. "Hello." With a small giggle. Nothing. The expression he revealed to me then I doubt I'd ever forget. It was of hatred, of disgust.

"You kissed it. The monster, of all people, if you could call it that." His face remained filled with nausea at the thought. "That... thing."

"Raoul!" I scolded, and at the shocked look he returned to me, I tried to think of a good excuse as to my outburst. "You... do not know if he is listening." I had no heart to those words. How dare he say such things about Erik? Why is he saying such things about Erik would be the proper question I suppose…

He glared at me. “I would protect you if he were to try anything again.” He wouldn’t do anything terrible to me of course, in fact I was in a right state to go back to him then…

“Of course, because as we just endured, you are a wonderful guardian!” I motioned to the leftover rope that had floated to the edge of the cave, its twists almost extending the entire length of the cave wall. Raoul did not speak, he merely stared hard into my eyes, and without a moment’s notice his hand flew across my face, echoing throughout the entire length of the cave. Tears overflowed from my eyes instantly, for what felt like the twentieth time this hour.

I gripped the floor, apparently I had fallen to it. My hand refused to leave my face, and I could feel my fingernails leaving marks upon my cheekbone. I stole a glance at Raoul, from this angle he seemed much taller than usual. He was grasping his own hand at the wrist, staring at it with a look of… confusion? He whispered something, I’ve no idea what it was, but I’d bet a lot of money it was cursings.

I blinked my eyes away from him, my sobs turning silent, my gaze fixed upon the cold ground. Instantly I felt a strange feeling. Do you know of that feeling you get when someone is watching you? I had the opposite shivering down the back of my neck, rounding around to my chest. I suppose that’s the only way to describe it.

Nevertheless, I could tell Raoul was no longer standing next to me, and as I forced my eyes upward, I saw Raoul pinned to the ground by Erik, obviously choking by the Angel’s hand. They were in the shallows of the water, thrashing around as Erik attempted to kill Raoul. Splashes of murky mud obstructed my view of the two men, and I stood with such speed I could have dodged a bullet. Raoul spun around, throwing Erik off of him, and forcing him into the deeper water a few meters away.

I forgot my face. Looking back now I remember the pain still stung on my cheek, but of course, there were many different things to worry about now. Raoul’s face became clenched in fury as he threw his fist into Erik’s stomach, and I could bear the sight no longer. I closed my eyes and curled into myself, my arms wrapped around my bent legs, and my hands gripped at my ears. I tried to ignore everything that was happening in front of me, but as you can imagine, it was difficult. Despite my hands clasped over my ears I could hear every sound, perhaps enhanced by my closed eyes and lack of vision.

I could hear the grunts of the men, their normally sweet and seductive voices reduced to growls. The crashes of spray erupting at the sides of the cave and splashing onto me covered my tears and stung my ears. I kept my eyes closed, and ran into the lake, groping toward the men. The mist stuck to my skin, and made me sweat. Or perhaps it was the nervousness. I wrapped my arms around one of the beasts in the water, I had no idea which. I whispered a small plea into what I thought was their ear, but it seemed to be unheard. I repeated myself. No answer. Again, I repeated myself over and over until they ceased to move, and my one-word cry was the only sound. “Stop.”

I opened my eyes. My arms were holding Raoul tightly, my chest to his back. His smell of cologne entered my nose, and I jerked away. I had no taste for his 300 franc priced perfume. In fact, I was surprised he even wore it on the night of my (and Erik’s) possible doom.

Erik was dripping with water, his white shirt transparent. After a further glance at Raoul, I found that he was just as wet. The awkward silence was only broken by the pants and wheezes of the two men. I looked at the two men, holding eye contact with both of them for as long as I could keep my eyes open.

After this display I had another reason to leave Erik, and another to stay. But I’d already decided to leave, so without another thought, I pulled Raoul’s shirt and pointed to the boat. He strutted over to it, unknowingly giving Erik and I a bit of privacy. I stared Erik deep in the eyes. I could see he was exhausted, I had no idea how old he was, but I knew he certainly wasn’t as young as Raoul, and the fight had caused his body a lot more energy as such. “I…” The small word had slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.

His eyes silenced me. “You are leaving with him.” It was a question more than a statement.

“Yes.” My voice was small.

He snorted, and held his arm out over my shoulder, hovering, obviously restraining himself from touching me. I grasped his hand, and pulled it to my shoulder with a (what I hoped to be) warm smile. I couldn’t read his expression, and I barely received a chance to, as I heard Raoul’s all-too-noticeable cough break my thoughts. Erik tore his hand from my shoulder and slowly shrugged into his back bedroom. I could hear him humming again.

Raoul appeared out of nowhere and dragged me into the boat rather rudely, and unnecessarily hostile. I rubbed my arm ruefully and drifted into thought. This day had been too eventful, and a wave of terror rushed through my body. What if I have been making the wrong decision this entire time? What if Erik was less of a monster than Raoul? After all, he had been so quick to harm me, with no thought beforehand it seemed. Was he raised to treat women as such?

I felt overwhelmed and exhausted in the rickety boat with Raoul, but certainly not safe. Not because the boat was likely to sink at it’s next small run-in with a dull rock, no. This man seemed innocent, boyish, but I never noticed until that moment that he was in fact a man. A strong man capable of hurting me. I suppose I had loved him because he was safe, a warm friendly shelter I could always retreat to. When my father was ill, he helped me through it all. When the Angel was possessing me, controlling me, he helped me through it all as well. But was that the only reason to love him?

True, our conversations were dry, and true, he and I argued heavily about the littlest things, but that was just a small bump in our way to happiness. Although I wasn’t ever happy around him, I haven’t been truly ecstatic since he dived in an icy ocean to get my scarf. Many years ago.

But I did love him. Raoul was my childhood sweetheart, he had always been there for me. I had tried to keep him with me, and his presence alone was infatuating and calming. He was charming, and sweet, and I loved to be with him, to discuss things with him. When we had something good we mutually wanted to discuss, of course. The state of France alone could get us in debates and discussions, sometimes even ending in kisses and tears (mostly on my part).

My head was pounding, and I leaned against the side of the boat, refusing to look at Raoul. I recall hearing screams and crashes as we floated away, from Erik’s direction. I thought deeper and weighed possibilities in my mind, and slowly my eyelids became extremely heavy, and dry. When I blinked it was hard to open them, so I gave in, sealing them shut. I still was deep in thought, though…

I heard a mezzo-soprano voice say my name. I forced my eyes open. I must have fallen asleep, as Raoul was staring at me from the front of our small ship. “We have got to walk now.” I groaned, and attempted to sit straight. It seemed some invisible force wanted to keep my head rested on the edge of the boat, and I heard a small grunt from Raoul. “Come on, get up.” He clutched one arm and pulled me out of the boat, my entire body resembling a bowl of breakfast oatmeal.

Eventually after a long struggle and many curses from him, many giggles from me, I managed to walk, albeit rather slouched and sluggish, but walk nonetheless. The mysterious and romantic labyrinth of before seemed hollow and empty in my almost inebriated state. Or perhaps it was the company, either way my magical journey of past times seemed dull. Raoul made no attempt at conversation, and I did not try to make small talk either. We had to find a way out of this maze without being seen or confronted. I honestly doubted that Raoul would have kept Erik's hiding place secret had we had a run-in with the mob, so I’d rather hoped we wouldn’t see anyone on our way out.

Thank God that we didn’t, and after a while of wandering through the dripping halls we managed to find a way out. We had found a tall flight of stairs, swirling very high upwards. Raoul seemed rather tense when we were on them, I’ve no idea why. Anyway, as we had a long way to go in silence I tried to keep myself awake with the only way I knew how: conversation.

“Why did you raise a hand against me?” I sounded more hostile than I wished. Perhaps I was a bit angry in my exhaustion.

A few moments passed in which the only sound was his steady steps echoing up the stairs. “I do not know.”

His confidence was gone, he seemed naked somehow like this. Raw. Untouched. “Try to think of a reason. Give me a theory.” I was treading in dangerous territory, I knew.

Raoul glanced into my eyes, for the first time since the lair, holding eye contact for a second, until he dropped it. “Perhaps you… provoked me.”

Fury at this coursed through my stomach, my face burned. My words were staccato and tense. “Perhaps I provoked you. Perhaps I provoked you.” I could sense his eyes on me again. “How dare you.”

“Pardon?”

“How dare you say such a thing. I was merely kidding you, and you harmed me. How am I at fault there?” My fists were tight, barely keeping balance on the stone banister.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have kidded me then. I wasn’t in a pleasant mood, as you could tell.” His eyes weren’t looking at me anymore.

Of course. It was my fault. Forgive me for joking, as we had done multiple times with no incident. What would happen if I were to joke now? Would he kick me down the stairs? How was I to know, if he was going to be so moody and hostile without warning.

I remained in my thoughts, no longer caring if I was on good terms with him, he was definitely not on mine. Strangely when I thought angry thoughts of him, the long process of climbing stairs seemed to pass by much faster. Perhaps the anger gave me energy.

Nonetheless, as soon as we reached the top step (which was not very soon at all), I was more exhausted than I’d ever been in my life. The last few parts of the night I can barely recall, as my state wasn’t focused on storing it all, I imagine. I do remember main points of interest, such as when we found a trapdoor, with a small hole to fall into. I went first, and helped him when he fell and slipped on the cold ground underneath us.

We then found a small hallway, which was hot and steaming, with small vents coming from the floor. Another trapdoor revealed itself to us, its door heavy. We landed in the chapel of the Operahouse. It wasn’t nearly as hot in there, only the small burning candles lit the room, but I recall Raoul looking through the exit to find a wall of fire greeting him. At that point I’d forgotten the Operahouse was on fire, but I had no idea it had spread that quickly, and so horribly. I suppose that was the first time I realized I’d never return to the Operahouse, or be able to enter it. With the horrible chance at the house’s mortality looming in my head, we found a small gate to exit through, which led to the streets.

I remember the faces of assorted people wandering around the streets, their horrified expressions would never remove themselves from my mind. I saw Madame Giry, my adoptive mother and ballet instructor, looking around anxiously through the crowd, no doubt looking for her daughter Meg. I myself wondered about her, where she was. Raoul found my hand and led me through the crowd loosely.

I had seen all of my friends standing outside, no one seeming to be hurt, their faces illuminated by the flames. The only one missing was Meg, and I prayed for her safety as he found a small gap in the crowd. He talked to a shady looking-man, something about a carriage, and the man shrugged away. Raoul let go of my hand.

“Have you seen Meg?” I quietly asked him, hoping he got a small glance at her during the rush. He glared at me, then returned to staring at the burning house. There was no place that seemed excluded from the flames, and I could see a part of the rooftop with majestic statues resting on it licked by the fire. This was a special place to me, and I suppose this is when I cried.

The rooftop is where Raoul and I first kissed, where he swore to protect me no matter the situation. That same night the house had been performing Il Muto, I being the silent pageboy, La Carlotta the star as usual. That night was when I had first seen Erik kill, to an extent, it happened while I was backstage, but he killed nonetheless. He hung Joseph Buquet, the stagehand, from the rafters, disturbing the ballet dance. Buquet was not missed, however, the safety of the entire staff was. Raoul had come for me, and I led him to my beloved rooftop, where Erik could not get us. We talked for a while, I told him everything about Erik that I knew, and we kissed. I was safe and secure that night, with Raoul by my side.

And now it was being destroyed, the flames charring the stone faces of angels that littered the roof. Now Raoul was by my side, but not with much heart. He protected me loosely this night. I stole another look at him. His gaze had remained unfazed, his eyes glazed over. What could he be thinking of right now? Did he feel regret for harming me? Was he calculating how much money was lost in the blaze? I doubt I’d ever know, and I could no longer stand the awkward silence.

I had a feeling that when we left tonight, we would never return to the Operahouse. I’d never talk to Mme. Giry, or play games with Meg. I’d never sing on stage again, nor would I ever dance in the background. I’d be grateful for even a backstage part, this was my home. I couldn’t leave it like a piece of garbage!

Without a word to Raoul I inched my way through the crowd, covering each face with my eyes. Where was she? I saw the elderly woman crying at the edge of the swarm of people, and I ran to her, my tears barely touching my cheek before they fell. I pushed myself into her, holding her close and smelling her sweet Persian perfume. Madame Giry’s voice entered my ears, soft and cracked, which was very unlike her. “Yes, child.”

I sobbed, and dug my cheek into her thick jacket, scratching my nose. I could tell my face was amazingly red when I looked into her weary eyes, and I whispered, “Don’t let him take me.”

This was probably the first time I’ve ever seen Madame Giry so confused, her face was twisted and contorted in a small puzzle. “Who?”

“Raoul.” I couldn’t believe I said this. Why should I be worried about Raoul? He’s never done me wrong, pardoning two hours ago. I honestly had no idea where this came from, but looking back now I suppose it was a bit of aftermath from Erik’s spell he’d put me under.

She sensed my confusion. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Again, I couldn’t believe I said this with no hesitation. That was my chance to correct what I said, and I still stood by it.

“Very well.” I could hear Raoul calling my name in the distance. He finally noticed I was gone. “He’s coming.” She gripped my shoulders and pushed me behind another person, throwing her jacket over my back, and hiding my chocolate curls into the folds of it.

“Madame Giry! Madame Giry!” I positioned myself to get a small view of Raoul’s face. It was furious and twisted until he reached her, his face turning to calm and concerned.

Mme. Giry sniffed again, wiping her tears from under her tired eyes. “Oh. Monsieur de Changy. Your purpose?” Her voice was laced with hostility, I couldn’t imagine why.

“Have you seen Christine? She seems to have… slipped my grasp.”

“Your grasp? Hm. No, forgive me, I haven’t.” He sighed at this, and turned away. She called out to him once more. “She probably, as you say, slipped your grasp, for a reason, monsieur. You must trust her. She is not a child.”

Raoul glared at her. “Or so you say. I’m off to find her, do not interfere.” Why would he know she would interfere?”

He wandered off, calling my name again, bumping through the crowd. I sighed with such relief that I hadn’t felt in ages, and I returned to Madame Giry. I removed the jacket and held it out to her. “Not now, child.” She muttered, not looking into my eyes.

“Could he still be watching?”

“Yes.” I turned away, and shrugged it back on and covered most of my face with my hair. Glancing around me nervously, I caught a glance of him interrogating La Carlotta. I slowly inched next to Madame Giry, and masked my moving mouth.

“When will we leave?”

“When Meg returns.” Her gaze remained on the blaze before her. I couldn’t blame her, I was merely another worry for her to deal with while Meg remained in the burning building.

“Why is she gone? Why does she remain inside?” I stole another look at Raoul. He had moved from Carlotta to the managers, Firmin and Andre.

“She was looking for you.” A pang of guilt ran through my body. Meg went into a known murderer’s home underneath a blazing building for me? No. I could not accept this. A loud noise jerked me from my thoughts. My head ached, and I stared as the Operahouse crumbled to the ground.

I cried out, the pain in my head becoming more intense with every movement I witnessed. I suppose this brought attention to me, and Raoul’s hands gripped my elbows within seconds. “Thought you could get away, could you?” His words were muffled under the noise of the crowd, but I could understand them with an effort. Forcing my eyes open, moisture flooded my eyesight and caused Raoul to become a swirl.

“She will not leave with you.” Madame Giry’s voice. I blinked the tears out of my eyes for the umpteenth time that night, and tied my eyes to her face.

Raoul laughed, and muttered only loud enough for us to hear, “You lied to me.”

“Yes.” This one word was dripping with disgust.

“Well, then, how do I know she’s worthy to be in your hands?” He chuckled.

My voice shocked myself, not to mention the company I was keeping. “Let me go. I want to stay with her.” I hated looking into his spiteful eyes, but I held my gaze there for a moment. Until the nausea in my throat pulled it back downward.

He tightened his grasp, and laughed again. “See? A child.”

Jerking out of his grip, I ran next to Madame Giry, and placed my hand on her shoulder. “I am not a child. I am plenty old enough to make my own decisions, and you are not one I am willing to make at this moment.”

The shady man from before appeared out of the crowd, and whispered something in Raoul’s ear. He nodded, and waved the man off, and with a small glare to Madame Giry, and a look of pure hatred to me, he was gone.

What to do?

Hello! Welcome to the very first Author's Note of this story! I am Belle, the 14 year old author of this. So just know that lol. Please give me hard reviews, I want to know what to work on. What are the point in reviews when all I get is 'Great job! Big vocabulary!' Pu- leeeze. Anyways, I don't own Phantom of The Opera, if I did I would be much, much richer, and Christine would have gotten married to Erik and had many babies lol.

I might take a while adding new chappies, simply because my GPA at the moment is like a 2. something, and my class rank is 524 out of 936. I've got to focus on that more than this hobby lol. But if you email me a LOT then I'll do it. Just bug me a ton lol. Thankies!

B