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Blinding Hate	By : shibbydm Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 1660 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Blinding Hate
- 1
Blinding Hate.

1871

The steady rock of the boat had Christine mentally baulking. Turning back she looked at the crushed man she had left, he stood watching her leave. His face was so distorted, his heart now destroyed. All because of her, he was her teacher, her friend and someone she trusted completely. His kiss still lingered on her lips; it was full of all the innocence and love that he embodied. It was tender and soft, not the hard-pressed kisses Raoul bestowed upon her, his was a new type of kiss. Rising her hands to her face she touched her lips, still staring at him. He would never harm her, nor let anyone else. Clutching Raoul tighter, she sang softly to herself;

‘In sleep he sang to me,
In dreams he came,
That voice which calls to me,
and speaks my name.”

Raoul turned to look at her, a horrified expression on his face. “Christine no. You cant possibly..” she never heard the end of his sentence, she had made her choice, lifting the folds of her dress she jumped back into the depths of the lake and swam desperately back to him. Gulping in water, she was weighed down by her dress, but made is around the corner in time to see the devastation. Mirrors were smashed, his bed and his work all set alight. There was no sign of Erik, but the sad voice that filled the air told her he was near.
”Erik” she screamed out desperately, dragging her self up the banks of the lake. Her eyes searched for him in the shadows, she knew well enough he would have retreated to the dark. Smoke was rising now and she knew she had to get out of here or the whole ceiling would fall upon her. Erik had worked for years on his house under the opera, and it hurt her to see he had simply set fire to all his belongings. “Erik” she called out once more, the smoke now getting to her lungs.

’Fool’ he cursed himself, as he ran up his tunnel way. Like a fleeing rat, he thought to himself grimly. He had every intention of throwing himself from the top of the opera house. No one cared for a bastard like him, no one would ever look upon him with anything but fear. Why should they? His chest began to close; the pain was so bad he fell to his knees, clutching his heart. These sudden seizures occurred every so often, tonight was the worse yet, he couldn’t breath. Perhaps it was his heart ripping into shreds; perhaps it was another panic attack. Either way he hoped it finish him off. He lay there in the dark, listening to voices within him. Some saying ‘go on, end yourself, who would care’, the other was the last shred of pride he still held that told him to get up and continue. In reality he listened to neither, he just lay in that damned tunnel panting desperately. Closing his eyes he tried to imagine himself back in his coffin, back in his home, but he had destroyed that now. Life before Christine was bad enough, but now she had left him it was unbearable. He could hear water dripping, but otherwise it was silence.
”It’s over now, the music of the night,” he whispered softly to himself, allowing a tear to fall down his deformed face. Lifting one hand to his face he traced the lines of his deformity and sighed. Only when a faint voice reached him did his eyes open. It was a mere whisper but he knew it anywhere, it was Christine. Had she returned? Pulling himself to his knee’s he cried out with pain as he forced his lungs to work. Gulping in the foul musty air, he shakily stood to his feet and limped back to his destroyed home. As her voice got louder his pace increased, soon he was running as fast as he could back to her. Skidding through the mirror he looked at the house, she was inside looking around his rooms. Erik called out her name and she turned, and made her way toward him. Not before the ceiling caved in however crushing her immediately. Erik let out a howl, “Christine” he shouted, pulling desperately at the broken burning wood. He could feel his hands blister as he threw hot bits of metal and wood out of his way. Finally he found her and cradled her body. Christine smiled up at him; she was alive.

1878

Jean Delviere stood amazed by the sheer beauty of the Opera House. Even after the fire, it still retained a certain historic beauty. There was a lot of work to be done, but if it could be restored to its former glory he was sure to make money here. The only thing troubling him was the manager’s eagerness to sell it. Andre and Firmin seemed overjoyed that he had placed a generous offer on the opera house. It had been theirs for the last 8 years and only minor renovations had been done over those years. It made no sense, This place was a goldmine. Sitting outside the office he waited for the papers to be drawn up so he could sign for the deeds and be the new manager. Opposite him stood a small young woman, her blonde hair caught her eye, but the way her eyes darting left to right as if waiting for some tragedy to unfold intrigued him. Little did he know how much danger he was in at that moment? Eventually Meg couldn’t wait any longer; her feet barely touched the floor as she ran over to him.
”Sir you must leave here quickly.”
”Leave?” Jean stammered, “Why?”
”They don’t want to sell, trust me please leave” Meg stared at him, she could see in her eyes he wasn’t going to listen to her, but she had to keep trying.
”The managers? They seem pretty eager to sell to me”
”I’ll bet they are eager,” Meg muttered, “Well it’s your funeral. God luck to you sir” Meg had barely left the hallway when she heard the screams. Running back to see what “accident” had occurred lately she screamed when she saw the blood trickling down the mans face, he had been hit with something. Looking to the left she saw a ceiling beam had been dislodged, the man was alive but injured. The police would blame the ceiling beams for being unsafe. The theatre would be funded for renovation again by a local charity and it would all be swept under the carpet. Glancing at the ceiling she saw a cloak vanish through a hole above and shuddered.

Later in the dormitories the little ballet rats all discussed at length the new “Accident” in the opera house. Meg looked around wistfully at her world, the Opera house had almost been destroyed but the managers had allowed Madame Giry to stay in the dormitories, which missed the fires rage. Madame Giry opened a small Ballet school within the Opera house, which brought a profit for the Managers. Until then they simply existed within the Opera House waiting for the day it was completely restored and they could put on Opera’s once more. But with the death or injury of every potential buyer, it didn’t seem too hopeful. Meg sat alone by the fire, rocking to and forth on her chair. Madame Giry was in bed asleep, she hadn’t left her bed for 4 years it was now Meg’s duty to teach the young girls and keep the managers off their backs. As she sat darning socks, a sudden movement in the corner caught her eye.
”Rochelle out from there” she demanded, without looking back up from her darning. When she did she smiled at the young girl, at 18 years of age she was undernourished but an impressive dancer. Meg didn’t agree with having favourite pupils but she loved this one.
”Madame, while I was out today some girls jeered at me for my clothes. I told them I was attending this opera house and then they were afraid of me. They said I must know the ghost, who is the ghost?” Rochelle blinked up at her teacher, as the colour drained from her face. “Rochelle there is no ghost, you mustn’t let childish jeers affect you so.”
”But there was something wasn’t there Meg?” the girl pressed, “I can see it in your eyes, your afraid”. Meg bit on her lip, her patience growing thin, dropping her darning to the floor she stared at the girl. “There is no ghost and no reason to fear, now off to bed with you”. Rochelle stood her ground and sat at Meg’s feet. Staring up at her waiting for the story, Meg knew she had no hope trying to hide anything from this one and so swore her to secrecy before anything was mentioned. Rochelle nodded and playfully motioned that she had locked her lips and thrown away the key. Kneeling down beside her, in hushed tones Meg told her all about Christine and the Phantom, about Raoul and Carlotta, about the murders and the opera. A life the child didn’t know existed. When she had finished she waited for the girls reaction. “Wow that’s dreamy” she smiled.
”It wasn’t dreamy Rochelle it was terrifying you mustn’t let on that you know, nobody speaks the Phantoms name within these walls anymore, nobody knew his name actually”
”What happened to him?” Rochelle’s eyes glazed over, “He sounds so sad, it was unfair that Christine left him”
Meg smiled and hugged the child, “Well the Vicomte De Changy appeared from below by himself, he was raging that Christine had returned to him, and pointed the angry mob in their direction. When the mob found them, they didn’t see a monster but a tearful man holding Christine, her body broken and her face hideously damaged. But they felt no sympathy and beat the man within in an inch of his life, believing him to be dead they left his body under the opera. A final act of hate I suppose, he never knew life outside the opera house, so why should he be allowed a grave outside of there. They lifted poor Christine and carried her away.” Meg smiled and pushed away a strand of hair from the girls face. “That was the last I heard of him.” Meg watched the girls face, and was amazed as a tear fell down her face. “Poor Erik” she muttered.
”Erik?” Meg asked, staring at her suspiciously.
Rochelle smiled, “I think he deserves a name” she lied, “Erik was the first I thought of. Now what of Christine, what happened to her? Did she go back to Raoul?”
”No, he came to her bedside but she had him thrown out. I sat with her for days as her body healed and her bruises left her skin. Her poor beautiful face was scarred though, she hated her reflection. At nights I heard her calling out for her Angel and then one morning I woke up and she wasn’t there.”
”Where did she go?” Rochelle asked wide-eyed.
”Nobody knows, a full search was made of the opera, at least the parts of it we knew of. Posters were put up, it was believed she was kidnapped, and then no body spoke of it anymore. I don’t know where she went, I hope one day she would contact me again. I do miss her so. Right come on to bed with you Rochelle, you are to be up early for practice”
Rochelle smiled as she leaped from her bed, and walked to her room. Jumping into bed she wondered where Christine had gone, and fell asleep dreaming of two passionate lovers hidden deep inside the theatres walls.

1871

I was sure I could not lie in this bed another moment. In my pain I had seen them beat Erik mercilessly, they had kicked and punched and called him the most dreadful names, eventually he lay still and then came back and carried me away from him. I cried out to him but got no reply. Yet in my heart I knew he wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be. I loved him. After a few days bed rest I made a swift decision I grabbed my cloak and tied it round me tightly, walking was painful due to the bruises and my broken ribs, but I had to know. Scrabbling down the opera I found my old dressing room and made my way to Erik’s home. When I got there it was in a pitiful state. His house had been burned to the ground, it was dark and frightening without candles, but I felt around the floor for his body. In the darkness I held a hand, “Erik?” I asked timidly.
”Christine” a whisper came from the darkness, “Your alive”
”Oh Erik, wait hold on there. I’ll find a light”. I ran as fast as my injuries would allow me back to the Opera house and grabbed a few candles and some bread. Running back to him I lit the candle with a matches and looked upon him. Poor pitiful Erik had dragged himself from where they left him, and had clearly tried to get into his coffin. It lay on its side near him. He must have been lying down here in agony for the last few days, tears sprung to my eyes and I looked at his battered body, and kissed his cheek.
”Its ok now Erik, we are together at last. We will be ok now”

1878

Christine sat humming to herself quietly; she hadn’t seen Erik for three days now. He was working on his music and knew better than to disturb him. Although she needed to, she had to tell him how she had ridded them of the next buyer. It hadn’t been easy with Meg watching over him, she was onto them she must be. Why else would she watch the shadows as often as she did? Years had passed and Erik had remained dormant. Together they set up home, deeper under the Opera where Christine had never been. It was too risky to stay in the same place since the attack. Once Erik had been restored to his full health they had settled together and spent many happy years with each other. Christine was in no doubt that she had made the right choice years before, in Erik she found all the love and passion she would ever need. He needed her and she needed him. His love for her was so pure he hadn’t even realised how deformed her face was until she pointed it out to him, but it didn’t bother him. Why would it? He had loved with his own appearance all his life. Recently though with the new buyers around Erik had gone back to his old ways of stalking and threatening. However Christine now accompanied him on these trips and had to admit she found it thrilling to be heard and not seen. To be one with the shadows and control people as well as controlling her self. Erik had taught her how to be stealthy, how to throw her voice and how to be as quiet as a mouse when necessary. Christine had done things she would have considered evil years ago, now she understood it was survival. The innocence in her had been vanquished when she took that plunge into the cold depths and chose darkness over light. A cold draft from behind made her jump. Erik stood at the door. He looked exhausted. Christine stood and walked to fetch him some food but he reached out and grabbed her arm. Pulling her to him he kissed her softly. “Oh Christine” he sighed, “That piece will never be finished, never. How are we to get this place back on its feet without the music?”
”Hush Erik, you have no faith in yourself. Your music is heavenly. Once you leave it for the managers I am sure this place will find its former sound”
”If only you could sing my sweet” he sighed, holding her closely. The loss of Christine’s voice was a harsh blows to them both, her throat ruined by the smoke that fateful night she couldn’t reach the notes anymore. It was another thing Erik blamed himself for, he shouldn’t have set that fire.
”Well we both know I cant, my time is over now Erik. I have other things to attend to.” Erik stared down at her, beautiful even when heavily pregnant. Stroking her bump softly he kissed the top of her head.
”What have we become Christine? Hiding down here, like animals. How I would love to walk the streets with you on my arm.”
”You are my husband” Christine smiled up at him, “We both are the things they fear, you must bring this opera house back to its feet. I will not raise our child without beauty around him”
”I understand” he smiled, kissing her again. “I must go, night has fallen. If I am to see if those fools still wish to sell our home, I must watch and wait”
”You must eat first, Erik. Erik?” Christine glared after him, but only saw the back of his cloak as he left the room. Coldness crept when he left, and she longed for his return. Pulling her cloak around her she moved closer to the fire she reached out for her mask. The irony that the once beautiful Christine who flinched at Erik’s mask, was now forced to hide her own face was laughable. Over time she had got used to hiding herself from the world. This pulled her closer to Erik’s heart, they understood each other completely now.
Placing the cold clay to her face, tears filled her eyes. Erik had crafted this beautifully for her, it had taken him hours, only so she would stop crying at her reflection. If this opera house were sold where would they go? They would surely be found. Stroking her stomach she stared at the fire, this was their home. It was their Opera House and no body was going to take it from them.
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Blinding Hate