Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera.
After two weeks of being held captive under the Opera House, I am finally home. The events that occurred during the time of my abduction are almost too terrible to relate, but I will try my best.
Once I had entered the passageway behind the mirror in my dressing room, I found myself engulfed in blackness. The only visible light was a red glow in the distance. I screamed. A bony hand grabbed my wrist while another closed over my mouth. The hand smelled of death, and I lost consciousness.
I drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the rest of the journey, and I when I finally awoke and regained my strength, I found myself in the middle of a drawing room amongst hundreds of flowers with a man in a white mask.
"Don't be afraid, Christine," said a voice- the Voice, "you are in no danger."
Furious, I reached out to remove the mask, but he caught hold of my wrist.
"You are in no danger," he said, "as long as you don't touch my mask."
The Voice, I realized, was a man. This realization caused me to being crying.
"It's true," the man said as he knelt before me, "I am not an angel, a spirit, or a ghost. I'm Erik."
Erik and I did not speak after that, but he took a harp and began singing. The song was soothing, and I fell asleep.
I awoke once again, this time in a bedroom, and, all alone, I finally began panicking. Erik returned to find me in this state of panic, his arms loaded with packages that he sat carefully on the bed.
"Remove your mask," I demanded angrily.
He calmly replied, "You will never see Erik's face."
He left, and, after the bath he insisted I take, I felt calmer. I found Erik, who, after lunch, showed me around his underground home. His bedroom was the most curious of all the rooms, for in the center stood an open coffin under a red canopy.
My attention was turned to the organ and music stand taking an entire wall. On the stand was a notebook that Erik explained contained his life's work that, when finished, he would take with him to his coffin and never wake up.
I asked if I might hear something from Don Juan Triumphant, but Erik told me to never ask him that. He then offered to play me Mozart for me, and we went back into the drawing room. Erik sat at the piano and played.
As we sang our duet, I found myself drifting closer and closer to Erik. Before I had time to think, my hand flew up and ripped the mask off his face.
I could not have imagined the horror that lay under the mask. It was indeed death's-head, accompanied by fury I have never seen before. I was absolutely terrified.
He began yelling at me, laughing a terrible laugh. He grabbed my hand and forced me to touch his face. When he finally let go, he crawled out of the room, sobbing. I found the scissors I decided earlier could end my terrible fate and was prepared to do just that when the sounds of an organ playing filled my mind.
Mustering up all of the resolve I had, I entered his room. "Erik," I said, knowing this would be my only chance to convince him to allow me to leave, "show me your face without fear. I swear if I ever tremble in your presence again, it's because I'm thinking of the splendor of your genius."
He seemed to be unable to see behind the mask I wore and began to trust my lies. I remained in his captivity for two weeks before he finally released me. Somehow, though, I don't feel as if my troubles are over yet.