After the Lair

Agony Part Two

|| Christine Daae ||

"Say you'll share with me One love, one lifetime..."

I remembered him singing to me, as I walked thorugh the streets of Paris. Why? Why didn't he let me stay with him? I suppose it was that stupid mask.

Oh gosh, I hated it. I really did. I remembered him telling me about his first mask, the scrap of clothing he used to hide the disguised beauty.

Yes, I did think that he was beautiful, deformity and all. Sure, we all had problems. He just had...well...more than the rest of us.

I kept flashing back to that night and his broken voice filling that lair.

"Forget all you've seen. Go now, don't let them find you. Take the boat, leave me here. Go now, don't wait. Just, take her and go. Before it's too late. Go! GO NOW AND LEAVE ME!" I couldn't see his face, but I could've sworn he had started to cry.

"Masquerade, paper faces on parade, masquerade. Hide your face so the world will never find you....Christine, I love you..." It was always the last part that killed me. Not, of course, because I didn't love him back, well I didn't know, but becuase he said it so dejectedly. Like, as he admitted it, his very life was over. Oh, dear heaven above, what if it was? What if the mob had gotten to him? No, No!

I started running as fast as I could in a thirty pound dress. I was going to him. Finally, after this time, I was leaving. But Raoul, he didn't know...I knew he wasn't lying about not remembering, I knew that Meg's father drank a lot before he passed and he wouldn't be able to remember the nights he was drunk. But, the Phantom of the-

Stop calling him that! I told myself.  He has a name, I knew he did. He was a human, a man- and all people deserve names. I would ask him when I got there. If he didn't have one, I would name him myself. For now, I would call him the Angel of Music, as I had for so many years before.

Oh the years before...

He was so quiet, but so demanding; physically and emotionally. He would always push me to sing higher and softer, and that hurt. Of course, he also told me that I always needed to sit up straight when I felt his presence. Whenever I was singing, I was to stand, unless given permission to sit.

He also reminded me so much of my father when he taught me how to play the piano. Granted, Father had more patience and was a bit more lenient than the Angel. I was not gifted in the skill of playing musical instruments.

He was also a lot like Madame Giry. When she was training Meg and I to become ballerinas, she would always have us start from the beginning when mistakes were made, she cut our diets to practically nothing, and always made sure we were not being lazy.

Tears prickled and threatened to fall at the thought of my real father and mother figure. I missed them so much...

Last week, I had gotten the news that Madame Giry had died in the Opera's fire. She was trying to find the Angel and save him, but got a serious burn and died a few hours later in the hospital. The funeral was in three days, and I knew I was going to have to attend, but I didn't want to have to face Meg, who pretended to be strong for her mother and I, but now, half of her support system was gone, and I wasn't very easy to contact. When Raoul was off at bars, I would often stay home and read.

Occasionally, I would sing. It was not very often, though. I rarely left the house at all. Raoul had servants to go and get groceries for me and people who would cook and clean, so I was quite cut off. I had no one to write to, and didn't have the strength to go visit my father.

I stopped walking. The Opera Populaire was right in front of me and sprinted down to the stage, to my dressing room, and through the mirror. That's when I heard the splashing.