Pen a Pal (Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction)

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Erik sat at the computer with his third glass of brandy. He decided that a feeling of intoxication would be much more welcome than humility. Really, that feeling was becoming quite old. Of course, he felt it everyday due to appearance, but this added punch in the stomach due to a girl and the Internet was even more shameful.

And, I am just increasing this shame, he thought while typing in his Pen-a-Pal user name and password. Weak, weak, weak…

Before the page could load completely, Erik turned his head away from the screen and focused on the painting, Starry Night, hanging on one of the walls. It sometimes surprised him that he wasn't put in an insane asylum just as the artist of the painting, Van Gogh, was.

Erik shook his head and hesitantly turned back towards the screen. His eyes widened, and a gasp escaped his lips unwillingly. He had an email. Sh-she replied. His heart was pounding wildly.

He clicked the box to open the message with a shaky hand.

Hi, Erik. I'm so glad you want to continue emailing. It sounds like you're quite the musician. You do everything! I feel so inadequate, since I only sing. You ask if I've been in or seen any operas. No, I haven't. Honestly, I don't think I'm talented enough to be on stage. I was in some musicals in high school, but I couldn't be in any sort of 'real' production. As for seeing an opera, I would love to. I just can't afford it. I wish that were different. Have you seen or performed in any?

I know I'm about to change subjects, and I'm sorry for what I'm about to say, but I feel like opening up to you. Ok, have you ever felt like your life is really unfair? I mean, not just because of something trivial. What if you can't help it? What if your life is, somehow, out of your control? I won't give details. I won't bore you in that way. I just needed to get it out. I'm sorry. I'm sure you didn't want to know any of that. So, moving on.. I like the questions we seem to be asking at the end of our emails. One a message, maybe? I'm really interested in knowing more about your skills in music. What kind of music do you compose? Well, I hope I haven't scared you off or anything. Thanks for reading!

-Christine

Erik couldn't believe what he had read. The message contained a startling revelation. We are more alike than I thought...

It was almost frightening how familiar her words were. "Have you ever felt like your life is really unfair?... What if you can't help it?" The words caused him to let out an uneasy chuckle.

He touched the problem, which was the mask on his face, hesitantly while his curiosity began to increase. How could life possibly be unfair for her? He knew her life couldn't compare to his own. Nothing could be that unfair.

If the fact didn't remain that she had never seen him, he would have been furious. There is no way she has experienced the pain and suffering that I have. But, he couldn't erase the thought that was, And yet, I wish to know of what she has gone through.

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Christine undid the top three buttons of her white blouse having just left her work place, the restaurant, Ruby Tuesday's. She was hot, sweaty, tired and just wanted to sleep.

But, not before checking Pen-a-Pal. I've become totally addicted.

She drove quickly and was in front of her computer within ten minutes' time. Please let there be a message.. Please let there be a message..

The homepage appeared, and there was… no message. No! Sighing, Christine signed out, realized just how tired she was, got ready for bed, and fell into a deep sleep.