Silence in the Darkness

[Silence]

SILENCE IN THE DARKNESS
A PHANTOM OF THE OPERA
FAN FICTION NOVEL
INSPIRED BY ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER'S (& GASTON LEROX) THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA/LOVE NEVER DIES

CHAPTER ONE

Anger was what I felt every day. Anger, pain, sadness; I felt nothing else. Most days I couldn't compose myself, I just felt like I wanted to scream at the empty stone wall and then fall to my knees and cry, just wanted to lay my head down on her shoulder and let her comfort me, tell me that it was all a dream and that she was really here, that she hadn't died.

It had been nearly a month since that horrid day, but to me it felt like only hours ago. The pain was still there as though it had happened about an hour earlier. I swallowed the lump the size of a baseball in my throat and stared out into the calm waters. The scene flashed before my eyes again, the echoing gunshot ringing in my ear. I had been trying to get the gun away from Meg, but if I hadn't been there perhaps Christine would still be alive. If I hadn't lured her family into my opera house, then she would still be living a happy life in Paris, France with her husband, Raoul, and her son Gustav. I closed my eyes and breathed in the damp air, a small tear rolling down my cheek. I missed Christine. There was no simpler way to put it. I had waited ten years to hear her beautiful voice again, and then it was stolen from me again, but this time I would never see her again, and it hurt. I whispered, tears beginning to run, "This music of the night has passed, its sweet embrace running from me. Its lullaby has died with you…"

I wished I had been nicer to her and to Gustav, who refused to accept who I was. He barely came around and when he did he always kept his distance, as though afraid that I would harm him. As though he blamed me, like I blamed myself, for his mother's death. I was used to it, this lonely, almost betrayed feeling. I had lived my whole childhood with no one. Not even my own mother could bear to look upon me without screaming about how ugly I was.

Christine had been the only person who had been able to look past my cursed face. Was that the only reason you loved her? A mocking voice in my head asked me. I shook my head and to make myself feel better I spoke aloud, "No I loved her because she is kind, beautiful, lovely and….that she could love me for who I was, and she had, with all her heart, until the end." Words like those hurt like a bullet to the heart.

With a shuddering sigh, I kicked a small stone into the calm waters and watched it sink like my life. I drew in another breath and let it out with a shiver as the cold wind brushed across my skin. I didn't care if I caught cold, I didn't care what became of me anymore. A soft sigh came from my mouth and floated away in the breeze, having no cares, just being free. I wished I could be like that breath of air on the wind. Careless, fearless, thoughtless; it knew nothing of anything, not even of its own existence.

"Erik," a voice brought my head slowly turning to the right. An older woman stood, with her soft green eyes soft with sympathy. Her deep brown hair, streaked with grey, was pulled back into a bun. She came closer and stood beside me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "I am sorry." Sympathy laced into her sad words.

I turned away, shrugging her hand off, "I don't need your sympathy." My voice was deep and cold, yet a deep sadness entered it as I hung my head, pushing my hands against the metal bar separating me from the calm ocean waters. I grasped the bar with such force that my knuckles turned ghost white. I felt my eyes well with tears and I closed them, forcing myself to swallow the rising lump in my throat. I would not cry, not now.

Her sigh was sad, "Erik, please, don't turn away from me, from us." She placed her hand once more upon my shoulder, this time I let her. Her gentle voice flowed through the air, "Erik, don't do this to yourself. I know that you loved her, all of us do. Meg feels horrible, she wants you to forgive her-"

I growled, "Giry, I can never forgive her."

Another sigh, and then, "I miss Christine too, Erik. She was a daughter to me, and a sister to Meg. You have a responsibility, your son needs you! Are you just going to leave him in the dark? You can't just let him go like that, and I can't let you slowly kill yourself." Madame Giry avoided my eyes and turned against the bar, which my hands still clenched. "I thought I knew you, Erik…but now I don't think I do…I won't let you give your life up to your depression. Somehow, someway I will bring you back to yourself."

I swallowed my anger with the lump in my throat. A stray tear rolled down my cheek. "How can I forgive someone else if I can't even forgive myself?" I asked, looking up, more tears sliding down my stained cheeks. The dark bags under my eyes showed how little sleep I had gotten. "How can my heart just keep breaking when it's already broken? How can I care for a son who loathes me? How can I live when that will to keep pushing on has dissolved into nothing?"

Madame Giry had tears in her eyes when she answered, "Christine's death was not your fault, and don't you ever blame yourself. You did the right thing by trying to get the gun away from Meg, if you hadn't you knows what would have happened, you couldn't have known she'd push the trigger.

"Then rebuild your heart. It is not broken forever, you have a son and friends that love and care for you. I won't give up on you, not until my dying breath. Gustav does not hate you. He just doesn't know how to act. He may not see you as a father figure yet, but in time he will, I can promise you.

"You have reasons to live, Erik! For me! For Meg and Gustav! For Christine! Keep living for Christine if nothing else!" Tears slid from her eyes, "Please don't give up yet. Just keep living this life, you just can't quit because something bad happened! You've been through things like this before, please don't let yourself fall farther into this sadness that I see in your eyes."

I stared into her eyes and said sharply, "You don't understand do you?" I didn't give her a chance to reply, "I should have been the one who died. I should have been the one who Meg shot, it was my fault. If I had listened to her, and Christine would still be alive. No one will get the blame other than me." I closed my eyes and shook my head mournfully, "Giry, I can't do this much longer. All the time," I choked, "I think of her smiling face. That scene plays before my eyes, the shot ringing in my ears. I am wishing that in all those replays that it will me who falls at the shattering shot, but it is always Christine. Where I should have been, it's Christine dying in my arms, as I hold her tightly against me.

"I used to think that there was a way I could change those events, but now I know there is no way to rewrite the past. I used to think, hope, that this was just some horrifying nightmare that I will wake up from," I shook my head, "but I have long since stopped believing in that lie. I would tell myself that when I woke up Christine would be with me, but now I know I only did that to comfort myself. I'd wake to the lonely darkness and feel the pain of my heart shattering time after time." My silent tears were now pouring down my face, and my shoulders were shaking, but I tried to be strong and suck it up, but I was unable. "There is no way to fix my heart; it's broken into too many pieces." I laid my face in my hands and wept. I knew I looked childish, but I didn't care anymore.

Giry put an arm around my shoulders; I let her, although my body tensed slightly. "Come back to Phantasma with me." She didn't seem to notice –or care for that matter- when I shook my head, not wanting my staff to see me cry. She took my arm and drew me away from the metal bar, my knuckles, sore and aching, regaining their usual pale skin color. She made me stand straighter, as she led me back to the opera house she and Meg had helped me create. Perhaps there was a way to let go, and perhaps I was willing to find it. But who would bear with me? What happens if I fall before they do? Or what if they fall before me...?

CHAPTER TWO

For the first time in a month, I gracefully placed my black gloved hands on the piano. My eyes closed, seeing Christine's beautiful face and hearing her sweet voice singing, "Hearts may get broken, love endures, hearts may get broken, love never dies, love will continue, love keeps on beating when you're gone." Absently, my gloved hand reaches up and gently pulls the mask from my face. I place it on the piano and reach my hand up once more. The disfigurement is rough against my hand. I can feel the raised wounds that didn't heal, the rough dents that didn't form right. I let my hand drop to my side, and then slowly raise it back to the piano.

A slow, graceful melody caressed the air, as though trying to cheer me as something takes over and my fingers dance over the black and white keys. My eyes are closed, but I know each note by heart. Agony rips at my heart when the familiar song meets my ears. Liquid flows freely down my face as I play, blind so I cannot see the demon peering back at me from the mirror. The lyrics come to my mind and I skeptically begin to hum the words, "Let your fantasies unwind In this darkness that you know you cannot fight, the darkness of the music of the night. Let your mind start a journey through a strange, new world. Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before, let your soul take you where you long to be." I hummed most of the rest but then picked up again, "Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in, to the power of the music that I write, the power of the music of the night." A choked silence came over me as I hit the last notes, but even so I managed to murmur, "You alone can make my song take flight, help me make the music of the night."

I couldn't keep the smile off my face when I remembered her face, her voice, the hushed silence of the audience when her voice soared over head. I couldn't keep the small tears from dripping from my heaving eyes when I remembered her smile, her eyes beautiful deep brown orbs always seeming to glitter. I couldn't keep my right hand from reaching up and brushing against my lips when I remembered she had kissed me there on that horrible day, that she had told me she loved me her smile captivating. Christine Dáae, the only girl I had ever loved was dead. I sighed and opened my eyes, letting my hands slip from the keyboard.

Suddenly the sound of footfalls echoed off the stone walls. I leaped up and swiftly grabbed the sword from the table where I had thrown years earlier. I whipped around to see Raoul standing there, holding his sword from the day nearly eleven years ago in Paris during the masquerade. I clenched my teeth together and snarled, seeing the anger flashing in Raoul's deep almond eyes, "What do you want?"

Raoul marched smoothly forward, making me retreat. "Damn you Erik! This is your fault! It is your fault that my wife is dead! Damn you! If you hadn't called us out here she would still be alive! It is all your fault you horrid man!"

I spat, "Do you think I do not mourn?! Do you think that I do not weep?! Do you think that I do not have a broken heart and soul?! Do you think that I do not wish with all my heart that I had died?!" I pointed the tip of the blade at Raoul, "I will kill you if you come any closer." It was a lie, and we both knew it. I couldn't defend myself; I was too worn from sleepless nights and endless tears. I was mentally, emotionally and physically in a state of exhaustion. There was nowhere for me to run, but I was sick, of running, sick of hiding in the darkness, sick of keeping to the silence. I'll be strong for you, Christine, I thought and a shiver traveled up my spine.

Raoul sneered, "You think you can better me? Look at yourself!" He laughed cruelly. "You can barely stand let alone fight."

I hated to admit it, but what he said was true. All those night's I'd wake up drenched in a cold sweat I couldn't find any reason to get rest so I often wandered around Phantasma at night, leaving my muscles aching, and my body screaming out for the rest that it desired, that I wouldn't give it. I was a wounded man and couldn't bear to be wasting what strength I had in a senseless duel. "Raoul, there is no reason for us to quarrel. I have no grudge against you."

He barked a laugh, "That is correct; it is I who have the grudge against you."

I only had time to grasp my one thought, Oh damn, before Raoul spun at me, his sword lashing at the air. I barely made it out of the way before Raoul's sword struck the stone where I had been leaning against. I ducked as his steel blade whizzed over my head. I struck out, but missed and stumbled slightly. My breath came in great gasps and my chest was heaving, Raoul seemed to be barely out of breath.

"Well now, we've only just started and you're already gasping," a wicked smile flickered across his face. He laughed, "Think of it Erik, Viscount Raoul de Shaney, puts a stop to the famous Phantom of the Opera!" He says the words with a mocking tone that sends a jolt of disgust through me.

"Raoul..." I gasped for a breath, "Kill me if you must, it won't bring Christine back." I hope that perhaps that might give a few more minutes of life before he did me in. When he stifled a laugh my hopes slipped from my mind and doubts replaced those hopeful thoughts.

He didn't answer just swung his sword, cutting into my sword hand. Blood ran down my hand and soaked into the white cuffs of my jacket. A sting of pain blistered across my hand as Raoul grinned slyly. "Give in Erik, I might choose to let you live if you confess that you killed Christine." He quickly unarmed me, pointing the blade into my chest, the point pricking my skin and a thin line of blood sliding down my chest.

"What?" I uttered in disbelief, "I loved her, Raoul! More than you ever had! Why would I kill her!? Meg was jealous and pulled the trigger, I was trying to get the gun away from her! So she wouldn't hurt anyone, especially, Christine or my son!" I put emphasis on the word 'my' to make my point clear that it wouldn't sit well with me if he did anything to Gustav.

Raoul drew his blade away and took a step back. I slowly rose to my feet and he turned slowly. I cursed myself when I didn't see that he was holding his sword in a ready pose. As soon as he was sure that I didn't think he would attack again, he spun around, his sword cutting into my side. A cackle rose from his mouth when I fell to my knees, my hands pushing against the wound, trying to slow the blood flow. But, I could already feel my energy slowly ebbing away. My heart pounded in my ears, its loud ba-bump, ba-bump being the only thing I could consecrate on. Pain bit harshly into my side, numbing it to all feelings except for the sharp knives of pain.

One could say I was a Phantom, a true-down-to-earth Phantom, a ghost basically. They could say that all they wanted, but it's a lie. I'm a living, breathing person just like everyone else. So, as some might think, I am not bloodless, so which means blood stained my side and my hands a deep maroon and the metallic tang of blood hovered in the air.

I slumped onto my back, my chest heaving, and watched Raoul turn back and give me a wicked sneer. My hands slip from pressing against the wound. This was it, I wasn't going to try to stop it, I was going to die. There was no other answer to it. I was going to die. I'm sorry Christine, I found myself thinking as darkness invaded my vision and the pain in my side blinded me from any other hurt. Then suddenly, nothing, just silence in the darkness, which is a weird thing to say since no living creature can really achieve the fine art of silence. There is never silence there is always something, weither it be the deep pound of your own heart, the in and out of one's breath, the simple call of memories, or just a small crackling fire. Silence was always and never there, hiding in the corner of one's subconscious, ready to spring into action may the action be needed. There are few who have heard true silence, I being one of those few. For me, that silence was listening to Christine in her dressing room, her sweet voice a lullaby to cure all the hurts and pains of my life.

Now, I couldn't even turn to memories of my love, for I felt nothing, heard nothing, smelled nothing, saw nothing and silence filled my mind from the memories of the past and of memories that I had tucked away, never to see them again. But now, there was nothing that would comfort me. I was a lost soul, with no light. Raoul had probably intended this to happen. I shouldn't have trusted him. I should learn to not trust, I should now that, but then all those years with Christine have probably made me soft. Not that I minded...