All of Me: Inspired by The Phantom of the Opera

ACT 5

"What is it that you want Christine? Another role for you to mess up, another performance to disappoint me! Tell me, what is it you wish to have!"
I hear the hissing of my voice, I feel my boiling blood pulsing in my veins that urgers me to touch her, to love her, to want her, but I am torn between both the perception of myself, and the image she sees of me. The monster beneath the opera. "Speak Christine! Or else, you will sing for me!"
She inhales deeply, a sharp stream of tears falls heavily down her cheeks, and suddenly she raises her firsts in fury "I want you to show yourself to me!" and with a flash, tears off my mask.

The sound of my screaming is all I hear aside from my beating heart. I collapse to the floor, covering my hands to my face as I drag myself along the floor. I run my palms over the many creases and lumps of my features, gliding steadily towards the fractures over my skull, feeling for my wig, which she has torn and flung into the mirky waters of the canal. I hear her footsteps approaching towards me, though I shudder and bury my face deeper into my own fears. "Look away, look away!" I weep into the sleeves of my suit, hoping that she would leave soon.

I see Christines hand slip under my arm, though I shrug and pull away. "No, you mustn't. This face...my face...you must never see; I will not bear it! It is hideous Christine, a face not even my own mother could love! What makes you so sure you can bear to look?" Buried in the darkness of my suit, I ground myself deeper into the stone floor, the salt of my tears burning my exposed flesh. I feel the rawness of my dangling flesh against the back of my hand and think of Mother, when she required me to wear a mask at all times, to hide my hellish complexion. As I sloth over the cobblestone, I hear Christines breathe in my ear, calm though invading as she watches me intently. It reminds me of the children who would often prod me at the circus. On this night, I wanted her to fear me, I wanted her to beg for how she had made me feel, but now...I am exposed, I am helpless and suddenly the tables have turned. I am no longer her master; I have become her servant. Or maybe, her prisoner.