chapter 9

" G od fucking damn it!" Another failed attempt through the stupid doorways. How many more would it take to break me completely before I'd finally accept the truth?

I wasn't going home.

Frustration was at the forefront of my mind. Anger mixed in with all of it. Fear sprinkled on top. The worst kind of sundae.

The tears were getting harder to hold back the longer this went on. My muscles ached and weakened like they hadn't in so long. Eating was something I forced myself to do.

Not only had I spent the rest of my day and all of last night doing this, but today was my day off and I spent all of it in this hallway. Failing.

Not even caring that the other keepers and crew gawked at me and laughed as I did it, something I was used to now.

Not only had my body been revolting against me since I'd landed here, but the past twenty-four hours have probably been the worst. Because it wasn't just home filling my mind.

Emerald green and stone-gray eyes plagued my stupid thoughts as well.

The nausea worsened each time they crept in. Yet, it's all I thought about.

When he grabbed me, stopping me from becoming a human pancake. He stared into my fucking soul with a softness I'd never seen before. Oh God, when his breath crept down my wrist…

Even now my heart quickened, and goosebumps blemished my skin as the replay lurked unwanted.

It was only a minute, if that!

Oh god.

I ran back into the restroom and released what little was inside my stomach. Trying not to think about the fact they didn't have 409 in 1880.

After washing up in the sink, I envisioned home again just before stepping through the door.

Damn.

The air in the hall was thick, almost suffocating when I inhaled it. I cupped my hands around my nose and mouth to muffle the sobs trying to escape.

I guess I'd be seeing Antoinette tomorrow for lunch after all. My first time away from here. Maybe she'd let me come back.

It was later than I thought it was, especially since it'd been a while since anyone snickered at me.

Sleep was probably the best thing for me at the moment.

I rounded the corner, heading back to my room in defeat.

" Je suis désolé, " a small woman said as we bumped into each other.

I'd been so lost in my own mind that I hadn't noticed anyone else.

"I'm sorry. I mean, uh. So…sor…sorry. Excuse me, " I said.

At least my French was getting a tad better. The single words anyway.

The Phantom's obsession in every story was staring me right in the face. Christine Daae'.

My ears heated and perked up. If she was here, there was a chance he was too.

"Wait, you're the American? Melody, yes?" she asked.

"Yes, that's me." Ready to run at any moment, hoping it wasn't obvious my eyes were darting around, scanning the surrounding area, as if he'd just be standing somewhere, waving.

Just me and the main character were in the hall.

It was unreal to see her up close. Straight dark hair. Petite. If I hugged her, I'd be afraid to break her.

Christine's blue eyes were puffy, cheeks reddened and rubbed raw.

"Um. Are you alright?" I asked.

Embarrassment crossed her face. "Yes. Of course." Christine turned her head quickly to wipe away the remnant of a tear. "I'm Christine. Are you alright?"

I paused, not sure how to answer.

The simplest way would have been just to say yes.

"I mean, with Joseph. He's an unkind man. The stories about him are something I don't wish to repeat either, if that's alright," she continued.

The concern in her sweet voice grounded me a little. It'd been ages since I'd actually talked with someone. Used my voice at all.

"Oh. That. Yes. Guess I was lucky that everyone was there." And him.

What were the odds of two shadow men saving me when I needed it the most?

Wow, I'd almost forgotten about my basement Angel.

Time…

Christine's hands fidgeted as she chewed on her bottom lip. She looked over her shoulder then turned back.

"Are you sure you're alright? I know it's none of my business, but you seem –" I started.

"Everything's very overwhelming at the moment."

"I understand that feeling all too well these days. Unfortunately." I sighed and surveyed the space around us. For such a large and busy building, there weren't many places to rest.

"Do you want to sit down?" I asked.

"Here? On the floor?"

"Yeah? Why not?"

She looked me up and down. Like she was gauging my trustworthiness.

"You will sit with me?" she asked.

"Totally."

The floor wasn't that terrible. Cold, but at least we weren't awkwardly standing anymore.

"This is a bit odd. In the middle of the corridor," Christine said as we settled against the wall.

"Everyone already thinks I'm weird."

"They call you étrange . Strange one."

I chuckled. "I know. M. Leblanc told me."

Christine smiled, a hint of laughter under her sad eyes.

I was willing to sit here with her for no reason. Ok, maybe a little reason. Anything to get my mind off everything.

Also, I wanted to know. I wanted to pry, but I was a stranger to her. I wanted to tell her to run away with Raoul and never return just to save her from everything that was probably going to come. But one couldn't just offer up that information without questions. She would straight up think I was cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.

Finally, she broke the silence. "Someone I care for deeply is here and I have to tell him to stay away. And he doesn't understand. And it hurts."

"Oh." Shit.

"We knew each other as children, before my father died and grandmother brought me here. I guess we're…" her face radiated.

"Sweethearts?"

She blushed, hiding a small smile only a fond memory could bring. I don't think I could muster one memory with a man that made me smile like that.

"I haven't seen him in a few years. He's grown so much and yet still so much the same person I remember… My music teacher has strict rules. If I am to reach my greatest potential, I must only focus on that," she said. Her face falling at the reality of now.

"I see."

How would I respond without possibly signing my own death certificate, if he's listening, and still feel good about myself?

"Why not have both? Love and Career? Many people do that," I said.

She hesitated, like the thought hadn't occurred to her. In this time period, I suppose that would make sense though. Most women were only wives. Rarely was a career even an option.

"You're so young, Christine. Don't let anyone restrict you. Love is rare. Do you still love him?" I asked.

She nodded, still hiding the tiniest smile.

"Not everyone gets to have that. But also, don't jump right into something. People change. Often, not for the better. So, take your time together."

"What if my teacher were to find out?"

"Send him to me. I'll deal with him." I swallowed hard and stilled, realizing what I'd just said. Oh well. "If he cares for your well-being, he'll let you love and live your life. As should anyone that cares about you."

She grinned and wiped away another escaped tear I pretended not to see.

I rubbed her arm, hoping in a small way it would reassure her. Something I wished someone would do for me. Not gonna lie.

"Just see if Raoul is who you remember. And if you don't end up liking who he's become, then you have nothing to worry about, right? You can just go on singing."

"How did you know it was him?"

I could have broken my fingers with how tightly I clamped them in the skirt of my dress. Big mouth . "I…I saw you guys on stage the other day."

She shied away, probably embarrassed at the accusation. "I'm sorry to have unburdened myself to you with this. I didn't mean to. Thank you."

I shrugged. "We all need someone sometimes. I guess I was in the wrong place at the right time."

Suddenly, her demeanor changed—worried again and biting her lip.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Are we friends now?"

"Oh, I guess so. Yeah."

She glanced around discreetly. As if ready to tell a secret. "Did you see him?"

"Who?"

"The Ghost." She whispered. "Joseph said you were talking to the Ghost. And everyone's been whispering about it. Saying that things have gotten worse since you got here."

Wonderful. The last thing I wanted was more attention. And now I'm the harbinger of death. Awesome.

"There wasn't anyone up there," I answered.

Why do I keep lying about it?

She seemed almost disappointed by my response.

"What do you know of him? The Ghost, I mean." I added. "And what do you mean things have gotten worse?"

Confirming once again that we were alone. That we knew of anyway, she leaned in. "He causes a lot of the "accidents". Things go missing. Usually, important props for shows that Carlotta's in. Things like that.

It's sometimes worse when things don't go his way. You saw what happened to Carlotta yesterday. Not to mention the girl he killed last month."

My chest tightened. It was one of the many thoughts in that moment with him above the stage. That he could just push me off or something. We were only a few feet away from the ledge, it would have been easy.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The night the chandelier came down. A few people got hurt. But… one of the ballerinas, Elizabeth, was found in a room in the salon. The Ghost had strangled her." She stared at the floor, wrapping herself in her arms. "I hate that place. I'm lucky I live with my grandmother. I don't have to go through that."

She was lucky. The salon was just a brothel. A way for the opera and dancers to make more money and keep the nasty patrons happy. I avoided it when I could. Especially at night, usually walking around the long way or cutting through the stage.

"Someone saw him kill her?" I asked.

"No. But that's what he does when things get bad. Most of us hang incense above our doors and pray, so that he doesn't bother us. It works. Most of the time."

Why save me if he relished in death?

She continued. "And when they put up the new chandelier, the Ghost pushed one of the workers from the rise. He only broke his leg and arm though."

"Do people really think it's a ghost, not just a man?"

"A man?" she giggled. "You heard him. No man can do all that unseen."

You'd be surprised.

"Has anyone actually seen him?"

"Yes! It's been said he has glowing eyes. And flies like a bird, but not with wings. He wears a black cloak. Like Death. And sometimes, he dresses like he's a special guest of the opera."

The man I touched was for sure no supernatural being as far as I could tell. But he did have a strangeness about him. Maybe it was just the mystery. A man in the dark behind a mask.

Christine went on about the random things people said about him. How he commanded the dead. Had hair of fire. But also wore a hat. And that he tormented Carlotta the most.

I remembered the hat. Sort of. But no fire that I could recall. Just soft, curious eyes.

She went on for a while about her father and the traveling they did. It was very cool to hear about her life. And sad at the same time. She loved her father so much. He sounded like a good man. And when he got sick, he only made sure their last days together were everything.

When my mother got sick, it was hard because she got meaner. The relationship was already strained because she went so long undiagnosed, but I was the family-less child. Obligation made me her caregiver just so she didn't feel alone because of all the poor decisions she'd made.

"Have you enjoyed Paris?" she asked. "When you're not conversing with ghosts?"

The question caught me off guard more than running into her.

"I haven't really been outside the theater. So, I don't have much of an opinion. Not being able to speak the language makes it difficult to enjoy anything as well. I'd kill for a book in English. And a really hot bubble bath!"

If it wasn't for trying to get home, I probably wouldn't leave anyway. I hate doing everything alone all the time. That was basically my entire adult life.

"You don't speak French?" she asked. The most confused expression on her face.

"No."

"Why are you here then?" the faintest hint of laughter behind her words.

"That's… I don't even know the answer."

"Well, what do you like? Maybe I can find one? I like the love stories."

"I prefer darker stories, but I have been known to enjoy the highly inappropriate romance novel now and then."

She blushed and her eyes went wide. "Do you know about that stuff?"

"Well, yes."

"Are you married?"

Ugh. "Oh, God no."

"Why not?" She laughed.

"Just never found a man worth saying yes to."

"None made you happy?" The sincerity in her question stopped the light heartedness in the moment.

Not once had anyone ever asked me that. My smile stalled.

It was always on me to compromise my happiness. The "love didn't always mean you were happy" people would tell me after confiding in them. At some point, I think I believed them.

Before I could answer, Christine took a quick breath and waved her hands. "I'm sorry again."

"It's alright. The answer to your question is no. As much as it hurts to admit. I don't remember ever feeling happy for more than a short time."

Hearing it out loud made me realize how used and pathetic I was.

"Then why…"

"Because in the beginning they're amazing, actively trying to make you want them. Until you're hooked. Then they stop. And you're sitting there hoping the man they were when you met them comes back. But they never do. So, you try harder. Which makes it worse, for you. And they will use you until there's nothing left. No one should have to beg someone to love them."

Suddenly I was the one wiping away a rogue tear. I batted my eyes, forcing any other rogues back in their ducts.

This wasn't about me.

Christine looked as if she was in deep thought. Taking in my unintentional warning.

"Have you thought about trying again?" the sweet girl asked.

"I'm too wise to the ways of men to try again. Which," I swallowed the ache in my throat, "Is also unfortunate because who doesn't want to be loved, right? Who doesn't want to love?"

"Raoul has an older brother."

"Oh, that's alright," I chuckled. "But you, on the other hand, just take things a little slow. Get to know Raoul before making any decisions. Ok? I mean, if you wanted advice. That's what I would tell my younger self."

Christine surprised me when her arms flew around me. It was nice to feel like a person again.

Well, shit.

"Thank you. I think I will. I think this helped. I think," she said. more sure of herself now than she was an hour ago. "I'm so sorry, I must be going. I have to get to my lessons."

"Oh. Of course. Sure thing."

My knees snapped, crackled, and popped as we got up from the floor. Maybe we sat there a little longer than we should have.

Worth it.

"It was lovely to meet you. I hope that we see each other again soon. We can go to the shops. Maybe find some books or a new dress?" she said as she scampered down the hall.

"That would be nice," I answered. Though I'd hoped I would never have to take her up on her offer. Especially now that I basically just gave an open invitation to the "Phantom" to come find me.

What am I going to do if he does?