Her Innocence || Phantom of the Opera

Chapter Twenty-Four

Christine POV:

I left Meg's room and entered the library across the hall where Erik and Madame Giry were seated quietly. No one spoke, so I uncomfortably ended the silence as I sat down in an empty chair.

"Meg woke up," Giry looked up at me as I began, her eyes flashing with surprise, "but she wanted to go back to sleep. I wouldn't suggest trying to--" I stopped talking as the door to the library, which I had previously closed, crashed open. Erik quickly stood as a man stumbled into the room, clearly drunk. "Raoul?" I questioned, shocked. My intoxicated husband rocked back and forth from his standing position, holding a glass bottle of alcohol. I stood and raced to his side. Raoul tried pushing me away as I did my best to remove his possession of the almost empty bottle.

Having known this side of my husband, I simply began leading him to the open couch a few feet away. I sat him down, in the process sneaking away the wine, and he immediately sprawled out his arms and legs over the entire furniture.

"Christine, Christine..." He mumbled under his breath. "Why does she love me...?" I felt my cheeks burn in embarrassment as I caught onto Madame Giry's stare. Erik was frozen standing, not looking at either us, but focused his eyes to the floor. He continued opening and clenching his fists.

Next to me, Raoul coughed and barfed on the floor. This was too much for Erik as he practically jogged out of the room, obviously exasperated. More embarrassed, I quickly apologized to Madame Giry, whom I was sure was terrified, and pulled Raoul out of the seat quickly. I helped him out of the room towards the bathroom, cursing under my breath the entire way there. A footman with cleaning supplies crossed my path headed for the room we were previously in.

As I was cleaning up my husband, I suddenly came to the realization that I would HAVE to leave. Raoul would never be accepted into this family's household or friendship again, and being his wife, I had to be supportive of him. The thought of leaving behind the woman who had been my mother for as long as I could remember, my best friend whom I had shared so many secrets with, and the angel that had inspired my voice and my passion for music left me sobbing in my hands.

Raoul was in the shower, but I refused to leave the bathroom. I couldn't bare the poor, helpless looks from everyone here. I loved Raoul, or at least I thought I did, but this was surely a test for my faithfulness to him. As much as I hoped, I wasn't sure if I was winning this battle.

The shower turned off and I quickly wiped the tears away from my face. I handed my husband his towel, which he took willingly from behind the curtain. After wrapping it around his body, he stepped out and looked into my face. His eyes reflected my own feelings of embarrassment; perhaps even more. I felt bad for him--but why should I? He was the one who had destroyed our relationship with the Giry's and it was him who had chosen to mortify the entire household with his unannounced drunk appearance.

"Christine," he whispered clearly, "why do you love me?" I didn't answer. I couldn't.

Instead, I slowly nodded my head and said, "We will leave in the morning."