I clung to the Phantom as we fell for what felt like minutes. I looked at his face that was twsted in anger and sadness. As we fell beneath the stage, we were enveloped in blackness and I screamed in fear. The Phantom gripped m waist tightly as I grasped ontp his shoulders for dear life. I could tell we were almost to the ground, and he quickly twirled me around in the air so that he was closer to the ground. Suddenly, I felt the floor beneath me, pushing all the air out of my lungs and leaving me gasping for breath. I positioned my hand so that I could push myself up, but found that it was not cold floor I was laying upon. I shot up, and stared at the Phantom's pained face. I put a hand to his arm and squeezed it. "Angel! Are you alright?" I cried.
He gently pushed me off of him and sat up. "Yes, I am fine." He snapped. I cringed at his tone of words, and was disappointed when they did not soften. "Are you okay?" He asked in return. I nodded and reached for his arm once more. He grabbed my wrist before I could touch him and pulled me up with himself. His grip was strong and tight. I could feel my circulation slow. He looked me up and down for injuries, then started to drag me along the dark tunnel. "Where are we going?" I shrieked. He didn't answer, only walked quikly and angrily. I noticed a slight limp as he half ran down the passageway. Rats lined the walls, and I cringed from them as we passed.
I knew the Phantom was angry at me for removing his mask, but I had to tell him my feelings. I took in a gulp of air to speak, but was interrupted by a angry, powerful voice. "Down once more to the dungeons of my black despair. Down we plunge to the prison of my mind. Down that path into darkness deep as hell!" He half yelled, half sang. I started to resist his pull on my wrist and tried to stop him from taking me back down there. My feelings of love were beginning to be pushed back at his anger. Suddenly, he stopped and whirled around to face me. He got extremly close to my face so that I could smell his musty cologne, and see the angry tears in his eyes. The blue eyes were sad, as always, but they held something that I had not seen before- hope. Hope that was barely there anymore. Hope that was so dominant in Don Juan. I could see it from across the stage!
But now, his hope was fading, and so was mine. "Why you ask was I bound and chained in this cold and dismal place? Not for any mortal sin, but the wickedness of my apparent face!" He hissed. Drops of spit flew onto my cheek, and I flinched from his words. He turned back around and kept dragging me behind him. I started to cry at the realization of his anger. I should say, the extent of his anger. This wasn't simply a fight, he might never forgive me! I sobbed in sadness and fear as he led me through the cold waters of the underground lake. I tried to pull away, to break free, but he held fast. "Stop." I whispered. He ignored me and splashed through the lake with me by the wrist.
"Hunted out by everyone, met with hatred everywhere. No kind words from anyone, no compassion anywhere. Christine!" He turned to face me once more, but instead with pleading eyes. "Christine, why?" He whispered as he grabbed my shoulders and shook them gently. I cringed away and answered with a sob. He only got angrier at my lack of words and tore me through the water, and finally into his lair. The Phantom threw me into his bedroom, where the swan bed laid. I collapsed onto the comforting bed and turned to face him as I held onto a red pillow. He walked in slowly, a wicked smile on his face.
"Angel, I didn't mean to-" I started, but he cut me off with a raised hand. "Get up." He commanded. I shakily did as I was told and slowly stood. He then pointed to a small door in the corner of the room. "In there are all of your clothes that I have prepared for you. You will find a large white dress, get it out." His voice was calm and powerful. Without breaking eye contact with him, I walked to the door and opened it. A gasp came to my lips as I marveled at all of the beautiful gowns in the closet. Reds, yellows, greens, blacks, and golds glittered in the darkness. "They're beautiful." I breathed. "Get the white one." The Phantom snapped. I quickly located a white silk gown that was indeed the most beautiful gown I had ever seen. I wanted to comment on it's beauty, but held my tongue.
YOU ARE READING
My Angel of Music
FanfictionWhat if in the final lair scene of Phantom of the Opera Christine makes a different decision? But what if this decision is the wrong one? Or maybe The phantom won't accept her love. And if he does will it last?
