The O.G||Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction||

Epilogue

This is it guys. Enjoy!

I found the poem I use in this chapter on pinterest, it didn't have an author.

Kat's POV

        Four years.

        Four years ago to this day, I fell through my bedroom mirror.

        Four years ago I learned the truth.

        Four years ago I met my brothers, the men I will never forget.

        Four years ago I met the love of my life.

        Now the four of us stand at Ezra's grave, mourning his death and rejoicing his life.

        "Ezra, don't jump on that, this isn't a playground!"

        I looked up from the snow covered grave to see why Erik was yelling at our child. My three year old, which we'd named after my brother, was bouncing around a mausoleum. He was smiling brightly, his dimpled cheeks red from the cold.

        "Darling, please listen to your father." I hollered at him when he continued to run around.

        Damien stood from the bench he'd been sitting on near the grave and jogged over to little Ezra. My son giggled furiously when his uncle scooped him up and placed him on his shoulders. I smiled and looked down at my wedding ring, twirling it around in circles. Erik and I had gotten married a year after the night on the rooftop of the Opera Poplulaire.

        We'd left that night and never looked back.

        Raoul had escaped with only minor cuts and bruises, just like Damien. Christine had split her head open and received five stitches and about a week of bed rest. I had severe internal bleeding and major blood loss. Erik later told me how the doctors hadn't know what to do and doubted if I'd live. He'd said it was a miracle I had survived the surgery, yet alone being strong enough to wake up afterwards. I was in a medically induced coma for a little over a week. There was now a long jagged scar just below my belly button, a constant reminder of her.

        I later learned that she had disappeared, placed back into the mirror where she belonged. We could only hope she was dead.

        The three of us had decided to move to America, Erik insisting on New Orleans because of its french background. We lived in the french quarter happily, until a few days ago we received a letter. Christine and Raoul had gotten married a year ago and were now expecting a child.

        I wasn't thrilled to return to Paris, but for my sister, I'd do anything.

        "You should read this before we all go into hypothermia." Damien stood beside me, shaking me from my thoughts.

        Ezra was still on his shoulders, pulling at Damien's dark hair. I glanced back down at the grave before taking the folded piece of paper from my pocket. The paper contained our brother's final demands. He knew what was to become of him, I'd been aware of that since the moment I stepped onto that roof.

        I unfolded the paper and began to read the poem he'd scribbled on the bottom. He had left specific instructions above it, saying that he wanted me to read it at his funeral. But he hadn't really had an actual funeral, so this will have to do.

        "Do not stand at my grave and weep,

        I am not there. I do not sleep.