The Journey of the Mask Part 3: Pain By Lady Rinthe
This is a sequel to the musical, my first Phantom work which is my own creative idea. In this book there are a few things I'm sure you'll be surprised about and I'm not sure you'll like.
Warning: In all my books, Erik always wins! Even if it is in a rather peculiar way in which it seems no one won!
Anyhow, since I have the aspirations of becoming a full-time author someday, I need all the practice and criticizing I can get. So don't be stingy on the criticizing of anything! I don't get easily offended and I like it when people are completely honest, even if it does hurt a little! So enjoy!
Christine backed away from the mask that lay in Meg�s outstretched palm; never taking her tortured eyes from it, but somehow not daring to touch it. Tears began streaming down her ghostly white face as she sank into a nearby chair. She couldn�t speak, and could only sit there helplessly, as a hundred different emotions flooded her all at once; remembering things for the first time in years, things that she had purposely forgotten.
She had always remembered, of course, but over the years she had forgotten some things, things that she wished she could forget now.
Yes, Christine had always remembered, but not like this! And now, as she stared at his mask, details, words, motions came back to her as she remembered every moment she had been with him. Painfully she recalled every look he�d given her, every gentle touch, every song, clear as the day they�d occurred.
She remembered now like never before, and it hurt; badly.
Meg didn�t say anything as Christine wept, she only stood there, somewhat tearful herself, and feeling horribly ashamed at the grief she had caused her best friend.
After awhile, she went hesitantly up to Christine and tried to console her by saying, "It�s all right, Christine, really it is. You needn�t cry over it; after all, it�s not as if you loved him--", but that only managed to aggravate Christine even more, so she remained silent then.
Finally, Christine managed to choke out, "Where did you get it?"
Meg answered cautiously, "I found it--on his throne, after you and Raoul left. That�s all that was left of him; his cape and his mask."
Christine shook her head in a frantic, confused manner. "But why? Why would he leave it?" She seemed to be asking herself more than she was Meg.
"I don�t know..." Meg trailed off. "I�m really sorry, Christine. I didn�t mean to upset you."
Christine nodded her head wordlessly, again overcome by her tears. She stood up shakily, then said a bit nauseously, "I--have to go home now," and rushed out the door, letting it slam behind her.
Meg sighed and sat down in Christine�s recently vacated chair and wondered what to do.
******
Two days later, Christine lay in her bed, blankets piled up on top of her to try to keep away the chills which frequently threatened to overtake her body. She�d been trying to sleep for hours, but to no avail. Thoughts kept returning to her mind, ones she couldn�t easily ignore.
It was 1:30 AM. Christine was so tired she didn�t want to move; both her head and her heart ached. She was miserable from lack of sleep in the last two days, and when she felt so sick. She felt hot, then cold, and with both came the unmistakably chills of a fever.
Christine, in short, was feeling horrible, and all because of some bad memories provoked by a mask! Try as she might, Christine couldn�t stop seeing over and over again all the memories that had arisen in her when she�d seen his mask again. Why had Meg kept it? Of all things! What was she thinking?
Although, now that she thought about it, Christine wished deeply that she�d asked to keep it. It was the only piece of him she could have, and painful as it may be, she wanted it desperately. Oh, why hadn�t she taken it? She wanted it so badly...only to hold it, then maybe she could rest...
She needed that mask; now, and she would get it, no matter what the cost.
******
Christine stumbled up to the Giry�s doorstep and knocked loudly on the door. When no one came she pounded on it with her fists, desperate to get inside and get his mask--her mask.
Finally, she heard a voice inside saying impatiently, "All right, I�m coming!" She heard the sound of the bolt being drawn and the door opened revealing Madame Giry in her nightgown, hair braided, with a lit candle in one hand. When she saw Christine barely standing, looking bedraggled and feverish, she almost dropped her candle.
Mme. Giry quickly recovered from her shock, though, and helped Christine inside, closing the door behind them. She brought Christine over to a chair and called out "Meg! Come quickly and help me!"
Meg appeared in the doorway looking wide-eyed and frightened, but when she saw Christine in her helpless manner, she was shocked.
"Meg, get a fire burning," her mother ordered, "and get me some cool water. She has a bad fever and we have to bring it down."
Meg hurried to obey and began piling wood in the fireplace. Christine sat in an arm chair by the fireplace with a glazed look in her eyes. She didn�t seem to acknowledge anything around her, Meg building a fire or Mme. Giry bathing her hot face with a damp, cool cloth.
"Help me get her undressed and into a nightgown," Mme. Giry said to Meg. "Go get one of yours."
Meg ran to fetch a nightgown and then they undressed Christine and put on the nightgown. After they had resettled her on the couch, Mme. Giry asked her slowly, "Christine, when was the last time you ate?"
Christine was silent for a moment and looked as if she didn�t quite understand the question. Mme. Giry asked her again, and after a pause, Christine said in a dull, distant voice, "I don�t know."
Mme. Giry sighed and got up to get her something to eat.
After finally persuading Christine to swallow a few spoonfuls of broth, Mme. Giry and Meg helped her to her feet. She could hardly stand, so they had to support her. They brought her to Meg�s bedroom and laid her on the bed. After tucking her in beneath numerous quilts and blankets, and turning off the lamp, they were leaving when Christine asked in a small voice, "Can I have the mask?"
Meg gave her mother a questioning look and after she nodded, dug the mask out of her dresser drawer and set it on the little table beside the bed.
Christine reached out her hand from beneath the covers and gently touched it. She then took it and put it on her pillow beside her, where she could see it. She just looked at it silently, but after Mme. Giry and Meg had left, tears began to wet her cheeks. Christine cried softly like that for a long time, and then, finally, with the mask still on her pillow, she fell asleep.
******
When Christine awoke the next day it was already past noon. Lying there in Meg�s bed, she still felt sick and cold but not so exhausted now that she had finally been able to sleep.
She turned over onto her side and saw the mask still on her pillow. Christine hardly remembered how it had gotten there so early that morning after she had dragged herself out of bed and out into the dark streets of the city. As she walked by the occasional wild nightlife of Paris, she had been so tired it was no wonder her memory of it was vague.
But as Christine gazed at the mask, a bittersweet feeling came upon her. She felt almost content now that she had a small part of him, yet it wasn�t enough! She wanted to see him again, hear his voice possess her, feel his arm around her once more. If only...
Her sad thoughts were interrupted by a quick knock at the door and then Meg, cheerful as ever, entered with a tray.
Christine sat up a bit as Meg sat down beside the bed. She smiled brightly and, setting the tray on the bed, said, "I brought you some breakfast," and then after looking at the clock, "Maybe I should call it lunch. How are you feeling? Mother let me stay home from rehearsal today to look after you."
Meg uncovered the tray to reveal toast, eggs, and tea.
Christine felt revolted at the thought of eating. She pushed the tray aside and said wearily, "I�m sorry, Meg, it�s all very nice, but I couldn�t eat right now if I wanted to. I can�t stand the thought of food!" She turned her head away sickly.
Meg�s face fell but she said firmly, "But you have to eat something! After all, you�re ill and you need to regain your strength."
Christine didn�t say anything. Meg burst out, "I can�t let you starve yourself to death! Please, Christine, eat just a little!"
"Death," murmured Christine to herself. "At least then I could find peace..."
Meg was shocked. "Don�t talk like that! You can�t die!"
"It would be better than being haunted by a ghost the rest of my life!"
"Stop that! You must get over this--this morbid obsession with the Phantom! It will destroy you!"
"You don�t understand--" Christine began miserably, but Meg burst out:
"No! I don�t understand! I can�t understand why you persist in these thoughts! Why can�t you be happy with your life without him? Why can�t you just stop reliving the past all the time and leave it alone! Leave it be; it�s done! It�s over now!"
A distant look came into Christine�s eyes again and she murmured, "It�s over now..."
Meg blinked. "What?"
Christine sighed and came back to the present. "Oh, nothing." She looked down. "Just leave me alone," she whispered.
Meg pursed her lips, but took the untouched tray and left, casting one last disapproving look into the room before disappearing.
Christine lay back against her pillows and closed her eyes. She fingered the mask, and as she lay there, whispered into the empty room, "Oh Angel, where are you? Are you out there? Somewhere? Anywhere?
"Come back to me, my angel; soon, before I grow too weary to continue life without you... Come to me... Oh, please listen! I need you now, I cannot live without you!
"I didn�t mean it," she sobbed. "I didn�t really want to leave you! I just didn�t think. I know I betrayed you, I know how I hurt you, but I�m sorry! I didn�t see; I didn�t see!
"Forgive me, angel," she whimpered, "forgive this broken heart and come back to me... Come back to...me..." Christine felt drowsy again, and as her cries subsided, fell asleep.
******
"How is she?" Meg�s mother sat down at the kitchen table across from her daughter.
Meg sighed, "She�s distant. She wouldn�t eat anything, and when I told her she had to eat something or she�d starve, she just said something about dying.
"What are we going to do, mama?" she fretted. "we can�t force her to eat and she�s in such a horrible, depressed mood... I don�t see how she can get better like this! I don�t think she even wants to get better!"
Mme. Giry nodded understandingly. "She is broken, Meg; tired and stressed. We must be patient and not rush her. Time only heals because one forgets; but people like him are not easily forgotten.
"But we cannot help her until she wants to help herself, which is unlikely to be anytime soon while she still loves him."
Meg was shocked. "Loves him!" she burst out loudly. "What are you talking about! She cannot love him! How could she?"
"Calm down, child!" Mme. Giry said sternly. "Of course she loves him. Why else would she tear herself apart with thoughts of him night and day?
"It takes courage to love, Meg, it�s not for the weak. Christine has more in her than you might think." She nodded wisely. "She�ll pull through this; wait and see. She may choose to take the rougher road, but she�ll pull through."
******
Mme. Giry knocked gently on the bedroom door and then let herself in. Christine was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling in silent, despondent thought. She didn�t turn when Mme. Giry came in or seem to acknowledge her presence at all.
Mme. Giry brought a chair over to Christine�s bedside and sat down.
"How are you feeling? Any better?"
Christine made no response, but continued staring at the ceiling.
Mme. Giry cleared her throat and shifted in her seat.
"Christine," she said quietly, "you cannot keep living like this. To continue to pull yourself down will not help either you or him. You must choose between continuing your life and making the best of things as they are, or to go and look for him; find him and stay. You must decide how much you love him; what you�ll be willing to risk, perhaps everything you�ve ever known, to find him."
Christine didn�t move, but Mme. Giry saw tears well up in her eyes, and her tone softened, "I know you love him, child; I realize how hard this is for you. I�m sorry now that I didn�t tell you more when I had the chance. Perhaps it would have helped you to understand; perhaps you would have been wiser.
"It seems hopeless, I know, but maybe it�s not yet too late. There may still be time to return to him. Knowing the intensity of his passions, he probably still loves you and would take you back, though it may be awhile before he trusts you again."
She sighed. "Yours is a bond not easily broken, or easily forgotten."
Finally Christine spoke through her tears. "But where do I find him?"
"Follow your heart. It will guide you to him. It alone can lead you; you must do what you think it right." She paused. "But, you must rest first, and eat."
She got up and kissed Christine on the forehead. "Sleep now," she whispered, and then she was gone.
