chapter 10

T he theater was too quiet tonight. It would have almost been bearable if Carlotta was singing, because even that was better than the silence that had me tossing and turning.

Sleep had been hard to find since I'd arrived, but even worse now with the whole "Phantom" thing being real and running into Christine like that. Literally.

I hadn't been able to sleep longer than a few minutes before jolting awake, straining to see within the dark areas of my room. It wasn't even big enough for someone to hide. Barely enough space for the bed and closet it had.

But it still kept me awake more so now.

Oh, and the whole not getting home thing no matter how much or how hard I've tried. That's pretty stressful too.

"Fuck." I groaned and kicked back the blanket.

Silence wasn't the only thing killing me.

Not being able to create anything was driving me insane.

Paper and pencil sat on my nightstand, for when I got the urge to write home.

I'd started writing letters to Mom and Sarah, just in case. Keeping them hidden within a broken floorboard underneath the small dresser, so no one would them and have me committed or something.

I know that Back to the Future is fiction, but maybe I could find a way to send them to her if I don't… If I never saw them again. Maybe even try to warn me about the bathroom. Even though that probably wouldn't work.

Bleh.

Dear Mama. Sarah too, I guess.

Can't sleep again tonight…

The last letter trailed off a bit and turned from what started as a recap, into a short story about a woman lost in unfamiliar territory, fighting tentacle beasts, only to end up with one who fucked her brains out into oblivion whenever she wanted. Oh, and also could turn into a man, so they can make out.

A very short, erotic story, but enough to sate the need to create for a moment.

Of course, it ended up under the loose floorboard.

The silence made everything unbearable. I couldn't even finish this letter. Worse, it left my mind free to wander. And that was when trouble slithered in.

I set the pencil down and ran my fingers through my short hair. It was always such a relief to be out of that stupid wig.

I thought wearing the damn thing would at the very least keep me mostly invisible and passible.

It's done one of those things.

Sometimes I feel like I'm wearing a neon sign that says I'm different. Notice me.

Hoping that a walk would do me in, I pulled on my trousers. My socks and shoes were on before I knew it and I was out the door without that damn itchy thing. It was late enough. No one was around. If anyone saw me, they'd probably assume I was someone else anyway and leave me be.

With everything I know now, I shouldn't be walking alone. Those eyes could be somewhere watching. But I figured if he wanted to hurt me, he would have already.

I hoped.

Ironic, that's all I could remember physically. Eyes. I knew I saw a mask, but I couldn't remember the shape or what it covered. I'm sure it was white though.

The hallways were empty. Except for a few voices off in the distance, it was just as quiet as my room. Even those drifted away fairly quickly when I entered the stage door to the theater.

The lights were dim but never off. It kind of gave a completely different mood, like you were in a dream.

Sets and props stood about, left in place after rehearsal for the following day. A lovely mess.

I strolled through the courtyard scene, fingers gliding over the fake bushes that stretched across the faux stone fencing. Details on the stone and wooden benches could have been better. But they were sturdy.

Some of the animals were taxidermy, a little surprising, while others were paper maché or some other material, stuck with actual fur.

It was like another little world within my new one. And I couldn't help but smile.

My imagination was always so vivid, so real. This felt like one of those times, lost in a daydream or fantasy just before bed.

From the beautifully varnished stage adorned with rich red velvet curtains and gold trim, I looked over the empty auditorium. I remember times on stage with the school band. How I was so nervous, like everyone could hear me play within the mix of fifty other students and hear my every mistake thanks to my shaking hands.

Sometimes I still wonder what it would have felt like had I made it up onto the stage for my first and last acting audition.

So stupid.

Severe stage fright always kept me from things like this. If you messed up, everyone knew.

Acting for the camera was way different than on stage. And being the center of attention was a hard thing for someone like me as it was.

I wasn't a good, or even a fair, singer by any means. Actually, I sang a lot for someone who shouldn't. But I loved it and always fantasized about being a vocalist and performing on Broadway.

As if.

"Maybe if I'd taken choir instead of band." I rolled my eyes while my insides rattled just thinking about it.

But there wasn't actually anyone in the audience. No directors or auditions to pass out before. Anyone to see the flaws.

It was just me.

Peeking around one last time to confirm that I was alone, my lips quirked wickedly, and silly thoughts ensued.

Meandering towards center stage, I went through every possible song I could sing, or at least remember all the lyrics too.

Show tunes. Records. Whatever. All jumbling my mind at once.

I could do an ALW. Memory from CATS ?

No.

Every theater kid in school sang that song to death. I still love it though.

No, I don't want to be sad right now.

"Fuck it." I opened my mouth and the words from The Phantom of the Opera's Think of Me fell out like Legos.

Kind of fitting in a way.

It felt so good to use my voice. I should have used it on Buquet and that cop. Shouted. Screamed. So that everyone would hear. Even with him .

What was wrong with me? I'd always been quiet. Never able to get any louder than normal speech, even then I was quiet, often having to be told to "speak up" when it felt like I was practically yelling.

Sarah had the voice. She could get loud, shout, and even sing. Lessons would have been easy for her.

I'm thinking of them now. For sure. They'd fall out of their chairs seeing me on this stage, moving through made up choreography and singing.

Except they wouldn't, because I wouldn't do this even for them.

Avoiding the trap door, and anything that looked like it could open, I continued, and pushed the somber thoughts.

Instead, focused on imaginary people sitting out in the brass trimmed chairs, awe struck as my voice tickled their ears like Angel's whispers.

I even found myself looking up into the famous box five and imagined those glowing eyes staring back, cheering me on.

All the silly thoughts from a full-grown woman pretending on an empty stage, in an imaginary gown. Pretending to be the best version of myself. The self that people loved and wanted to be around. The one that sang like an Angel and was beautiful. And loved.

The one that didn't give every part of herself for men that didn't want her.

Pretended I was strong.

Now the hardest part of the song; the highest note in the piece that required a lot more than I could give.

My range wasn't good as it was, but I was going to pretend that it was. Even if it hurt. And it was going too.

I dropped to my knees and stretched my hands towards the sky, trying to hold it.

It strained. It burned. But it was my moment.

The world may have been a bit dizzy, and my head light. But I did it.

Throat aching and chest heaving, I finished the song. The tensions I'd felt for a while seemed numbed. And a relief filled my whole being.

Laughter hit me after a moment as I fell onto my back, staring up into the twinkling crystals of the mid-repair chandelier.

I was both delusional and delirious. Perfect.

"You were horrendous." His thunderous voice rang throughout the auditorium. Rich and clear, as if he were right next to me.

Recognizing it immediately, my breath stopped in my throat. I hadn't forgotten about him. However, I didn't think…

The embarrassment took over, even though I couldn't stop laughing.

Was it me? Or the situation? Both.

"I know," I said, caught in a laughing fit.

"You were both flat and sharp, nearly the entire piece. Which I may not know, but can assure you, was not meant to sound like that. I'm certain your vocals were damaged beyond repair after that beating."

Shocked, my jaw dropped at his infliction, and I laughed harder.

After a few moments, attempting to tame the laughter fit still roaring inside, I rolled over and pushed myself to my feet. "And now, if you'll excuse me, Monsieur. I'm going to go die of embarrassment. Good night."

I bowed and rushed to the stage door and into the hallway and back to my room.

‘Flat and sharp nearly the entire song' he said.... ‘The entire song'

Had he been watching the whole time?

There were so many stories, variations of the Phantom. Was his name even Erique in this one? Is he a serial killer? Anti-hero? Disfigured from birth? Or acid? Jerk off or just different? Psychopath?

This was dangerous and this wasn't for me to have. I needed to be a roach in the dark, not the flower in the vase to be seen.

Still, even fear was only part of what I'd felt. The novelty of the Phantom; the thought that he'd been watching me at all and not attacked, reignited the confusion that trickled when thoughts of him slipped in.

It was unclear whether this was good or bad.

It was bad. So bad.