2 Phantoms 1 Opera House (Original, unedited story)

Chapter 7

      "Did you draw these?" she asked gesturing to the pictures that were posted all around the room. 

     "Yes, why?" he inquired.

     "These are wonderful. Are these of me?"

     He answered after a pause, "Yes these are."

     "These? Does that mean there are more?"

     "Yes, there are," he said after a time.

     "So there were others, then?" he nodded, staring at the drawings. 

     "Back in Persia there were a few others, but it was nothing compared to those with him." he said.

     "You said that he never used the same method of killing. HAs he ever used the torture chamber before?" There was a large silence before he answered, "Yes. I made it, you know." he said suddenly.

     "What?" 

     "I created that chamber back during the Rosy Hours of Mazenderan." he answere. 

      "You created it? You created that thing for pain and suicide?!" she screeched. He was silent, "Answer me. If you love me, tell me your intentions."

      "Yes, I created it for that purpose." he said.

      "Angel... how could you?"

     "That was the past, things have changed, Christine--"

     "How do I know that for sure? How do I know that you won't turn on me? After all, it's still out there, waiting for it's next victim!" 

     "Christine, I'm not like that now and you know it!" he screamed, "Do you think I don't live with the weight of my actions bringing me down? You think having to deal with him every day is easy? Do you think I like living with this thing for a face?" he stabbed the air just in front of his blackened face. Christine backed up, frightened, trying to put as much distance as possible between the deformed monster and herself. 

     "Am I frightening you?" he asked mockingly, closing in the distance between them, squashing Christine's attempts at distancing herself from him.

     "Erik, please... stop this. If you're not like this, then stop this!" she said. The young soprano reached desperatly behind her, grasping the first object her hand cam into contact with: a red mask that ,when closely inspected, appeared to belong to Red Death. She thrust the mask out, holding it at arm's length as though it were a poisonous snake. He laughed like a madman at Christine's display of fear, "You think that I'm going to take tht after whaty ou did to the last one?" he gestured to the lake, "You were the one who threw it in the lake to see this monstrosity of a face!" he hissed, "So you will have to live with that choice!" he grabbed the mask from her and threw it across the lake where it landed in the water with a small splash. Christine looked at the rest of Erik's collection of masks, then instantly regretted her decision as she saw that the yellow-eyed monster had followed her gaze. He picked them up one at a time, jhis yellow eyes filled with a mad glint as he threw them all into the lake. That was the moment that she truelly knew that he was crazy. 

      She monitered his actions, biding her time. She watched as he threw the masks, each one spinning like a frisbee before it landed with a splash in the water. She heard a clatter as he dropped one. He bent to retrieve it and Christine  ran towards the lake. She dived in and started to swim, desperate to get away from the man she had once called her Angel of Music. IT wasn't long before her dress started weighing her down. She hadn't made it a quarter of the way across the lake before she started sinking. Her last emotion before she went unconcious was fear of the yellow eyes that had followed her into the lake. 

   ***

     Erik dived after Christine, desperate to save her. He saw a flash of surprise in her slowly closing eyes. He swam as fast as his limbs would take him and  struggled to drag her to the surface fearing for her life. Erik dragged her up on the man-built shore of the lake and, panting, he watched her chest rise and fall with her breathing. Relief filled him as he watched this pattern. Up and down; up and down, in and out, in and out. She was alive. He nodded and carried her into the boat. He manuvered his way through the cellars, glad that he had the horse to carry her weight through the labyrinth. As soon as he set her in a chair in her dressing room, Erik left Christine alone. As he watched from the pane of glass that Christine called a mirror, he thanked the real Angel of Music, whoever they might be, that Christine was safe. Safe and alive once more.