Your Voice

Chapter 12

Erik

"NO. MISS DAAE WILL NOT BE ANSWERING YOUR QUESTIONS." I shout from the balcony of the theatre, hidden from the paparazzi by a dark cloak. Christine stands behind me. The press have been shooting us endless questions evoked by that damned woman Melissa's latest article:

Fantasma's Secrets Revealed

Coney Island's Fantasma has been getting busy. People from all walks of life attend the shows, the favorites being The Ooh La La Girl, Mary Giri, and the Parisian singer, Christine Daae. But behind the curtain, there lies a sea of untold stories.

Mr Y, the theatre's mysterious owner, is not, in fact, who you might think he is. It has been revealed that his true name is Erik, and that he does not even own the successful theatre. He is merely a thief who takes the money from the real owner, who is yet to be discovered.

And you may also have seen Christine Daae and Raoul de Chagny's son. But is the boy really the viscount's? It is said that Christine had an affair with Erik, and then viciously attacked Raoul, who is now hospitalized.

They have paid the press large amounts of money to stay silent, but despite their efforts, you are reading this. So, ladies and gentlemen, when you stop at the ticket counter, remind yourself of the malicious people behind the curtain.

The newspaper in which it was written in is now in the fireplace, burning away. Christine starts to sob. I immediately put my arm around her and place a kiss on her cheek.
"Darling, don't think about it. How do people even buy this trash?"
"Oh, Erik. I don't care about what they say about me. How will our child live? Being ostracized because of our false reputation? Because of Melissa?" I stay silent. A wave of guilt washes over me; I am the one that angered her, I caused her to write that article.
"I will have a word with Melissa," I say boldly, "we'll sort this out." Deftly, I cup her tear-stained face in my hand and kiss her. That familiar rush of energy surges through me, and I hold her by the waist. How did I ever deserve such a woman? I've been watching over her for so long, and now she and my children need me more than ever.

Christine I love you

"Rest,darling, the stress is not good for the child." My hand finds its way to her belly. My Angel has been fussing over Gustave all day and trying to escape from the press - she's exhausted. Her eyes flutter with sleep and she yawns.
"Alright, Erik. But don't get into any trouble."
Angel of music
Guide and guardian
Grant to me your glory
I kiss the top of her head and carry her to the bed in the corner of my lair.
You alone can make my song take flight
Help me make the music of the night

When she falls asleep, I remember that night when I first revealed myself to her. That's when I truly fell in love with her. Anything for Christine. Sat at my desk, I write a note.
Melissa,
I have read your article. Quite well written, bravo. You have sent the press in a frenzy and my family into a mess. I expect you to clear this up in three days or suffer the consequences. I advise you to comply, my instructions should be clear. Remember, there are worse things than a shattered chandelier.
Your friend,
The Opera Ghost

I hand it to a guard to be sent to the journalist. Putting on my dark cloak, I ready the plan for her punishment if she doesn't follow my orders. Like a shadow, I slip through the underground tunnels of the theatre to the stables. I check my horse is alright - I might need it in three days.

Christine is still fast asleep when I get back, and I sit there staring at her. What if our child is to have a deformity like mine? If it does, it will be living in hell; it will already be hated because of its parents if Melissa doesn't fix things, what more with a horrendous face? And then a thought hits me. With all the stress Christine is going through, will the child survive? Oh, God, what if it dies? No. I won't allow it. I'll guard Christine and the baby with my life. There is a knock on the door, and Madame Giry enters.
"How is she doing?"
"Alright." I say uncertainly.
"I don't think she's fully alright, with what's happened."
"I know, I just- Madame, I don't know what to do. I have never been there for Gustave, what do I know about being a father - I never had one." My head throbs and I bury my face in my hands.
"Erik," she strokes my back, "just be there for her. Love her. She'll be alright, trust me." I continue to stare at my fiancee and I notice the lines of age appearing on her face, her luscious eyelashes, her pink lips. She's so beautiful, I think over and over again. She's more beautiful than any crystal I could buy, any melody I could ever write. I'm so afraid of failing her, as a husband, as a father.
"Thank you madame." Madame Giry has been a mother figure for so long, and I'm so grateful her guidance in this maze of parenthood.