chapter 41

A carcass rots away after death. What happens to a home when love dies? I never thought I'd see this place again. When Philippe told me the charity auction had been moved to the opera house, to say I didn't take it well was an understatement.

Once upon a time, it would have been hilarious to see what Erique would do. Now I feared it.

So, here I was, standing at the front of the door to the home that housed what I thought was love, terrified of what I might find when I opened it.

Would he be here? Would I want him to be? If he wasn't dead, I'd kill him.

Not really. Maybe. I don't know.

He's a monster, yet I was still willing to walk into the lion's den. Why?

The smell of sycamores filled my lungs as I searched for the courage to squeeze the handle.

The light in the living room was still on and everything was just as I had left it. My bookshelf was still by the front door. Ardashir's notepad was still on the end table. Our music—all over.

He hadn't been here since before I left. Was he that ashamed of what he did that he couldn't even come back?

The clock chimed, startling the shit out of me. I had to meet Philippe soon. It may not have been something I wanted to do, but I also didn't need a search party after me.

I forced myself through the room and into our… Erique's bedroom. The only thing I had on me that night was my phone and knife. I needed everything else if I was going to attempt home again.

My mask still hung on the wall around the vanity. I snatched it along with what I still had of my New York City outfit and threw it into the satchel I also thought I'd never see again.

I glanced at the wall one more time. Suppressed emotions attempted to fill my eyes as I took one last mental photo. Maybe I could just take one mask… the one with the horns.

"You're here," I said.

"Forgive my stupidity," he said, pressing his forehead to mine. "I do not want to be that kind of man for you."

I sniffled the ache back and stored the memory away again.

I hurried back through the living room, switched off the light and closed the door on us before I hurried back up to the surface. Who knew what would have happened if I had lingered.

***

I'd always wanted to go to a ball. I just wished it was under other circumstances.

Even though it'd been a few hours, I still felt the cold of the underground house on me. Where would Erique have gone if not home?

I just needed to find a moment that Philippe wasn't on me constantly so that I could break away and change. Until then…

It was nice to have been given a task to distract me from all the devastation of my life. To my surprise, the evening had gone off without issue. That almost never happened. Music filled the room as people danced and chatted throughout. Definitely a different feel from the makeshift masq a few months ago.

So many wealthy people showed up for the event to save face and make up for the awful things they usually did, all while wearing the most expensive things money could buy.

Philippe had me greeting them with him as if I were his wife. Repulsion shivered through me at the thought.

Since the other night he'd been more affectionate. Attempting to hold my hand. Kisses on the cheek.

I hoped it was something I didn't have to get used to after tonight.

"Chloe's out for a husband," Christine said of her friend as we watched from across the room, eyeing a small group of men.

I shook my head. What innocence. "I hope she finds a good one. She deserves happiness."

"Philippe looks so happy. You're a very handsome couple…" Christine said.

As much as I didn't want to be here, I tried to enjoy myself or at least not look like I was plotting my escape.

I swallowed the insinuation hard and opened my mouth to say anything that could remotely sound nice or close to the truth.

"Hello ladies," Raoul said, as he joined us. Never had I been so happy for an interruption. "Am I going to have to fight for your attention tonight, my beautiful fiancée?" he said, twirling Christine around and catching her in his arms.

"Maybe," she giggled as he kissed her temple.

"Are you going to sing with Christine?" he asked.

His question pulled me from my mind. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I told them we had the same teacher. And that you can sing," she said.

I stared in horror at the thought of performing live. "I don't think so," I muttered quickly. "Thank you, though."

"You can't let him win," Christine whispered. "I know what it is to lose hope. When it feels like everything's been ripped from you. But there's light at the end of the journey. Your voice is your own. It would mean so much to me."

As sweet as her words were, even after all this, the idea of getting on stage and performing wasn't something I could ever do. "I wish it was that," I said, as my knees trembled at the thought.

"Wish what?" Philippe asked as he joined our little group. He rested a hand on the small of my back and flicked his eyes to mine.

"These lovely ladies are going to sing for us this evening," Raoul boasted.

"Is this true?" he asked.

I tugged at the neck of my dress as it suddenly constricted. "I… I don't…"

"She'll be marvelous," Christine interjected.

"Well, in that case, I look forward to it," Philippe said. "You look stunning, have I told you already?" he said, leaning down into my ear. "Hard to keep my wits about me with you around."

It wasn't surprising he liked me better made up in a costume like when we first met. I'd forgotten how itchy these wigs were until he mentioned it just now.

I chuckled nervously, running a finger between the skin of my neck and the fabric of the collar again, "It's a bit high."

With a mischievous look, he placed a kiss on my cheek. I held back a groan and the unrelenting shivering in my stomach as I forced a smile while he pulled me along with him.

"I'll think about it," I said back to Christine as we left them.

Faces blurred as we greeted more people. Eventually, as luck would have it, Philippe turned his attention to another wealthy hand and I was left to my own devices again. Maybe this would be my chance to slip away and I wouldn't have to perform.

"Oh beautiful, Melody," Antoinette said hurrying over to me before I went for my escape.

I wasn't certain that they'd even received the invitation. Philippe wanted to keep the invitations open for political uses only, but I was allowed this one.

The faux diamond necklace I had given her sparkled around her neck. I chuckled ironically at the sight. My heart was lighter at seeing her. It honestly would have hurt to have left without saying goodbye.

As if she knew everything, she held my face in her worn hands. "Are you ok, butterfly?" she asked.

I clasped my hands around hers. "Better now."

"Happy?"

"Yes, madame. I am as happy as ever," I replied in my best voice.

Experienced eyes saw right through my words and grew sympathetic. "He was broken. Your love was a blessing. But sometimes broken cannot be fixed. You will be happy, my girl."

"I just wanted to say thank you again," I said, ignoring the hurt at the top of my throat.

She kissed my cheek and walked into the giant room with Louis in tow. The woman's words echoed through my mind.

Just more words that fell into the pot of turmoil. I still didn't get any of it. Or maybe I was still blinded.

Maybe if the doorway didn't work this last time, I could just go back with her. No more ache or pretending.

"May I have this dance?" a voice asked from behind me.

My heart stilled as I turned. For a moment I swore I saw emerald and silver staring down at me.

"Yes. Of course," I said and took Philippe's hand.

The band played beautifully without mistakes. Everything was perfect. Mostly.

"Is everything going as expected?" I asked, as he moved about.

"Better, actually. And I think by the end of the night there will be no doubt of my position."

"That's great for you," I said.

"For us, darling."

I hated the way he said "us".

My misery was so acute that it manifested into physical discomfort, one which triggered my nausea constantly.

Even if I did like Philippe in that way, it was too fast. It was too much. I was never going to be able to give myself to another man completely, anyway. He wouldn't be getting all of me.

"Excuse me. Excuse me," Raoul said, quieting the room. The party guests listened as he gave some sort of speech through his genuine smile. The room filled with a smattering of applause as they turned to Philippe.

"And now, Christine Daae' and Melody Reilly," he said.

"What?" My heart dropped and the color in my face along with it.

"It is time to join Christine on stage, darling," Philippe said, ushering me toward the stairs as the people continued to clap.

Christine grabbed hold of my hand as she met me, tugging me along.

It'd been years since I tried to go on stage. Since my embarrassing catastrophe.

The collar around my neck tightened again. "You are going to be wonderful. We will sing from the Marriage of Figaro."

"I haven't warmed up. I can't do this."

"It is one song, you will be fine," she said.

I stared down at the three steps up to the platform. What a stupid thing to do amongst everything.

"Calm and breathe. Reach far within. Up and out. Up and out," he said into my neck.

I may have hated him, but Erique's words created a calmness within me.

I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, taking the first step. Before I knew it, we were at the center of the small pop-up stage.

A thousand eyes were on us. On me.

I stared at the music on the lyre, trying to focus on just that. If I made it through this, it would just be one more amazing thing I had to tell when I got home. Mom was going to be so proud.

The small band started up and Christine began.

It was the longest nine minutes of my life, but I was doing it!

Erique and I had practiced this in our earlier lessons. Only this time I had a stage partner to play off of.

I did it. I did it without messing up. I did it in front of all these people and I didn't pass out. From head to toe I was euphoric.

We bowed as the crowd clapped again.

I couldn't believe that I did it.

"That was truly wonderful. I didn't know that you were capable," Philippe said.

"Neither did I," I replied, still gleeful, even with Philippe's embrace.

What a powerful ending.

"Excuse me," I said, stepping back. "I must use the powder room. Too much excitement."

"Of course," he replied. "But do hurry. It's going to be an eventful evening."

I wished I could ride the high of my personal achievement. But, my smile fell as soon as my feet stepped into the hallway and I was out of sight.

Luckily enough, there weren't police as I wandered. Philippe said the place was crawling with them because of Erique. But I hadn't seen any except the few near the hall. Maybe they were outside?

Still a little euphoric, I locked the door to the dressing room and leaned against it as my chest and shoulders heaved with relief for the time alone.

The satchel with all my things still waited on the vanity table that used to be the wall between me and Erique's conversations. I lunged at it, undoing the buttons to the front of my dress as I went.

As I undressed, I caught a glimpse of the woman in the mirror, someone I didn't recognize again. I hadn't realized how the sadness had eaten away at me the past month. Dark circles printed beneath my eyes if you looked close enough. I looked sickly. At least to me. No one else seemed to notice.

I ripped the stupid dark wig from my head and slammed it onto the vanity table after I got my neck free. Quickly, I got out of the dress and into my Phantom night outfit, sans my shoes and necklace. "It'll just have to work," I said, slipping my jacket on. "There."

The restroom was close enough. If I was going to be miserable, I was going to be back in my shitty time, a hundred and forty years away from this memory.

***

I hesitated for a moment, staring into the dark of the doorway. I slid the mask on and tried to envision where I wanted to go.

Home .

"Please, I just want to be home," I begged the universe, and stomped through the threshold.

My tightly closed eyes opened into darkness. I glanced around slowly hoping it was after hours in the Majestic.

My heart dropped when the hallway was the same as I stared out from the restroom. I took a deep breath and marched through again. "I want to be home," I repeated, pain straining my throat.

What hope was left had dissolved with that final step. I was never going back.

"No," I wept.

After several moments of completely cataclysmic realizations, I decided it was time to get back into costume and salvage what was left of my sanity.

Everything sucked and I was alone, forever. I never should have stopped trying. How fucking stupid. And now I would have to accept Philippe if I wanted to survive. I hate it here.

With the last button done on the neck of this stupid dress, I packed everything back into the bag. Not even sure why it didn't work and I was never going to wear any of it again.

I wiped away any sign that I'd been crying and readied for the door.

Up my spine slithered a familiar sense. The little hairs across my body stood on end as a presence I hadn't felt in so long intertwined with the cold draft that crept over the flesh of my neck.

"You are the embodiment of beauty and song. My memory of your voice holds no light to what you truly are. The light of music. An angel in the hellscape of this world." His voice was soft and sad.

"Don't come any closer," I seethed, turning to meet the stare of flickering emerald green and stone-gray eyes.

He stepped into the light from within the darkness of the opened hidden door we'd walked through many times before.

"Stop," I demanded.

He halted, propping himself against the vanity table. Nothing was out of place. Mask. Hair. Dressed to impress as always... Always so tempting ... Always. Always. Always.

"Leave now," I ordered, unable to move.

"Please, hear me, my love," he said. The thunderous voice that resonated from him was tired. Weak almost.

I couldn't be curious anymore. I couldn't care.

"No!" I said and turned back to the door.

"I didn't kill Ardashir," he said in a shaky timber. "He was my only friend."

I scoffed. Was it disbelief or denial? "Of course, you didn't," I said. "It must have been the other Boogeyman. Probably the one who killed the girl, huh? And anyone else I don't know about."

I met eyes that had found themselves closer than before.

"There's nothing you could tell me that could fix what you've done," I said.

"They made me watch!" he snarled, jolting closer yet again. He gripped the back of the chaise lounge. Shoulders hunched and head hung as he fought whatever was in his mind. Tortured eyes looked up from beneath the white of an old mask. "The one who did this," he gestured to his face and down his body. "Your precious Comte Philippe de Vermin was one of the many from my story. Beneath the city he held me. Tortured me. Told me about the girl. His plans with you…"

"Stop! I don't want to hear any more of your bullshit," I cried.

My back hit the door as he moved at me, planting his hands on the wood around my head. Locked in place, his gaze wavered about recalling whatever horrors he'd seen.

"When my friend told you to run from me. I needed to know why he would do such a thing. I had been good, Melody," he said. "He knew, the vermin knew I'd be near you. Stayed in wait." Fear encapsulated his eyes. "There were too many. I could not save him again," he wept. "They forced my eyes…"

"You lie." My words were weak and unsure.

"I have never lied to you!"

I ducked beneath his arms and slipped away. "All you do is lie! Your entire existence is a lie. The Phantom of the Opera. One giant lie. That I fed into. What was I even thinking?" I said, catching myself in the mirror. Confused eyes met mine in the reflection. "We could never have had an actual life together. You were never gonna leave the underworld. I can't live underground. And you can't blackmail people forever to make your money. At some point they'd find you and kill you." I turned slowly, I needed to say it to him. For me. "In every scenario, we lose. It was all just a fantasy."

"You do not believe that," he said. "I know you do not. Just be with me."

"How dare you! How dare you make me love you!" I stomped around him to the door again. I was going to leave this time. For sure. "Against my will I loved you. I tried so hard not to want you, but you kept weaving your way in. I should have listened. I knew the stories. Yet, I still trusted you and you continued to lie to me..."

This moment tore at my insides. I should have been back in 2023 by now. Not staring into the eyes of someone that I wished were a better man as he begged me to love him again.

"You promised you'd never leave me," I said, through a cracked voice.

"I told you it would never be my decision."

"You want everyone to be as miserable as you… You…" my hands flew to the collar of my dress, clawing at the fabric around my neck. "You… I can't… I can't..."

My back hit the door as the world started to fade.

Erique's hands were on me immediately. I didn't even remember seeing him move. He yanked the fabrics at my neck, ripping it open as buttons went flying.

Clinging onto Erique's arms for balance, my chest heaved as I inhaled deeply with the freedom of my lungs.

His arms were so thin beneath the fabric of his jacket as I clung. Bony fingers cupped my wheezing face. "My baby, breathe," he begged. We slid to the floor as I caught my breath. "Why would you wear such a garment? You hate anything around your neck."

The light shone against his face better where we were. Bruises colored his pale cheek and jaw. His lips were dry and cracked, like he'd been beaten and starved.

"What happened?" I asked, running my fingertips along the exposed flesh.

His eyes closed as if the touch healed him. He pressed his forehead against mine. "I would never leave you."

The gentlest kiss I'd ever experienced touched my lips. It was like ice and fire all at once and everything I wanted.

I was desperate for it again, grabbing at him as I kissed him back furiously.

How could this be so wrong?

"Come away with me, my heart," he begged.

"No," I whispered through a sob and pulled away. "I can't. Not again. I can't care anymore, Erique." My hand fell from his face as I forced myself to my feet. Away from his undoing gaze. "Just leave, Erique. Let this be your chance to go somewhere else. Start new."

"Life is an illusion without you," he said, struggling to his feet after me. Like second nature, I leant my strength and helped him up. Something terrible happened to him. It couldn't be what he said though. Right? "You cannot go to him," he said, grabbing at me. "I do not care that you have laid with him. You are mine and always will be," he said.

"What?" I said freaking out. "No. I didn't. I couldn't…" I had chickened out and ran back to my room before Philippe could answer the door.

Relief passed through his irises for a moment before he stepped for me again. The wetness from his eyes saturated us both as he pressed his cheek to mine. "He's going to ask for your hand. And then…"

"Shush!"

Just then, Philippe's voice crept in through the door in the distance.

Oh God!

I yanked my arm away and turned back to the door. "You have to let me go."

"Melody. My Melody, please."

"You want to live your life as a ghost, Erique? Then be one," I spit. It was the most hurtful thing I could say and I hated myself more than ever for having said it.

He stepped back as guilt stabbed me in the chest. "That is not of your mind, is it?" he asked.

Living on my pride and maybe saving us both, I swallowed, trying to ignore the utter grief and despair in those pained eyes.

"Erique, you have to go now. Please," I said, hearing Philippe's voice growing closer, calling out my name.

"He knows I've escaped and would come for you."

I rushed to him and held his face. Hoping he understood my pleading eyes. "If you ever cared about me, you'll leave and never come back. I can't stand this hurt anymore."

"Tell me you do not love me, and this world will never see me again."

Philippes voice grew nearer. I could hear my name being called now clearly.

"Please. Go you stubborn jackass," I said, urging him towards his escape.

"Tell me you don't love me."

"Ok. I don't love you."

"You lie," he said. His voice as sweet as ever.

"I hate you. Now fucking leave," I pleaded and pushed him into the dark of the wall. "Goodbye, Opera Ghost." My whisper laced in sadness.

The door swung open, hitting the wall. Philippe's dark eyes darted to every corner in the small room. "Who were you talking to?" I asked.

"No one. Just myself. Calming myself," I said.

Suspicious eyes glared down at me. "What happened to your dress and why are you crying?"

I hadn't noticed the tears had leaked again. I wiped them away. "I panicked," I said, tucking in the ripped flaps. "Christine doesn't understand how badly I fear the stage. It was so overwhelming. I panicked and needed to be alone."

He searched my face, trying to detect the lie I'd just told him. His expression turned softer, maybe seeing the sadness and embarrassment in my eyes.

I was a good actor. Ugh.

"You were gone for a time. I was worried," he said. "The world still isn't safe yet, my pet." A politician's smile graced his face. "Shall I take you back, I'd like to have one more dance with you this evening before the auction starts."

I laced my arm with his.

"Don't forget your hair," he said, gesturing at the wig on the table next to the closed passageway.

Just keep smiling. Remember, you'll be happy one day.