Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Christine, wait for me!”

Christine, please!

She ran like a madwoman, stomping loudly on a metal staircase. She needed air. She needed to be up where the stars shone brightly. She needed to see the sky that would make her forget the damp, dark, hellish cellar.

With every step up the stairs, the dull pain in her muscles reminded her that the last time she ran somewhere was more than a few years ago, and that she had neither the stamina nor was really suited for exercising. That is why, when she finally opened the heavy door leading outside, onto the terrace on the rooftop, she fell to the ground. She started coughing and desperately gasping for air.

It stank. The air smelled like rotten flesh. She coughed, knowing full well that she couldn’t escape the suffocating, disgusting fumes. Just as she couldn’t escape the constant sound of footsteps and hands banging and scratching boarded-up windows. It still, after all those years, made her sweat run cold.

Raoul was by her side in no time.

“Are you alright?” He touched her back gently. The only sign that he had run up after her was his slightly quickened breath and a bit of red on his cheeks. “By God, what happened? Christine, please, tell me!” 

Raoul looked lost. He glanced at the empty space behind them as if expecting something to jump out any second.

“Close the door. Speak quietly,” she rasped and gave him a key to the door. She felt like she was going to spit her lungs out any minute now. He looked at her quizzically, but he did not object. He got up slowly and followed her request.

She looked up at the sky as she tried to compose herself. The weather was pleasant. It was a warm summer night, not even one cloud in the sky. The moon was big and bright, allowing her to see her surroundings as she checked them for any sign of a dark, looming figure.

She shouldn’t be doing this. She was stupid and naïve and ungrateful.

I know everything that happens in my opera house, Christine. I see everything. I hear everything. I am everywhere. So be good, child.

She shivered. They were technically above the opera house. There were no holes in the walls, no mirrors. She should be safe, right?

The only things she could see were rows of boxes, some makeshift garden tools, flowerpots with damp soil full of tall plants—tomatoes, lettuce, and other vegetables that the remaining survivors were able to grow—and multiple buckets placed there to collect the rain. And of course, those few grand, empty-eyed angel sculptures, now dirty and unkempt. A sad reminder of the golden times when the opera house was still running.

Her stomach tightened unpleasantly at the sight of red fruits, almost ready to harvest, almost ready to eat. Her mouth watered, and she felt even dizzier than before. She tried to focus, but it was almost too hard when she could smell them.

She was known as a compliant and honest girl, so she was one of the few who were allowed to help here with the garden. At first, she thought it was a privilege. Now she viewed it as nothing more than torture. Although she had been coming here every other day, it never got easier.

But she knew the place almost as well as her own mind. Everything was in its place. Nothing concerning. No sign of anyone’s presence, except for hers and Raoul’s.

 She sighed as Raoul gathered her up from all fours into a more comfortable sitting position in his embrace. He was warm and smelled like grass in the best possible way. 

She thought she had composed herself, but when she heard his whispers, soft words of assurance, she couldn’t help herself. Tears started to pour down her face, and a horrible sob came out of her throat.

“He is going to take me away!” she sobbed and looked at him helplessly. “He is going to lock me up in the cellars, in his house. He will never let me out! What will happen to me if he takes me?” Her voice cracked.

Raoul frowned, but he said nothing at first. He simply gathered her in his warm, strong arms and hugged her tightly once again.

“Shhh…” he hummed softly into her hair.

A good twenty minutes had passed before her breath slowed and the tears stopped falling. Thankfully, his shirt was already ruined even before she started crying.

“You must explain this to me, Lotte. I don’t understand a thing. Who is going to take you?” His voice was gentle and calming, though she could swear he was frowning.

“You won’t believe me. At first, I didn’t even believe myself.”

The feeling of a cold breeze and a damp stone on her skin made her shiver.  She looked looked around once again and then glanced suspiciously at the sculpture. 

For a second she thought it moved slightly to the right. She was becoming paranoid.

“Try me,” he squeezed her tightly and then gave her some space, letting her look into his eyes. His soft smile… at that moment, it was everything to her.

Or at least, enough to betray.

“It’s… my maestro.”

“Your… angel of music?” he raised his brows and his smile faltered for a second.

“I’m not mad, Raoul. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…” 

He didn’t voice it, because he didn’t want to hurt her, but she was well aware of how it sounded. What she needed was only a little more time to explain, before he started jumping to conclusions about what a few years in confinement had done to her mental health. And with some luck, he would believe her.

“Do you remember when I told you that the angel of music came to me after my father… you know,” she shivered.

He nodded.

“Of course. I heard you sing. You sound divine, but…”

“Surprisingly, I did not make him up,” she snapped. “Oh, he is not an angel. He is a real man, Raoul!” She looked around nervously and whispered under her breath: “Or a monster. I don’t know, but he’s surely not an angel!”

He sat there completely silent for a few seconds. Then, with a newfound resolution, he looked her straight in the eyes.

“Should I talk to him and tell him to leave you alone?”

She frowned. 

“You don’t believe me.” Then she gasped. “God, you think me mad!”

She wanted to stand up, but he quickly caught her hand and held her in place.

“I… I want to!” he hesitated. “ But when you were little, you constantly saw monsters, and you... have this strong relationship with God… and truly, Christine! I admire it!... But the times are tough, and you lost your father, and I would not blame you if...”

He was clearly at a loss for words.

“If I what?”

“If you went... I don’t know!... a little bit crazy? Most of us do! Especially with those behind your doors.” He pointed with his chin in the direction of the city. “You probably spent too much time here, that’s all.”

“Raoul!” This time she stood and crossed her arms in a tight self-hug. She felt ashamed.

Don’t cry, my sweet. I believe you. I always believe you.

Guilt washed over her. What had she done?

Raoul stood up quickly and took her face in his hands. He caressed her cheeks softly with his rough hands, dispelling her doubts, filling her mind with himself as her heart started to flutter.

“Wait! Lotte! Stop, I’m sorry. You know I am not the brightest or most sensitive.” He smiled so sweetly that she felt her knees soften. “You must excuse me sometimes.” 

She wanted to be angry at him, but she had no energy for it. She needed help. She wanted to feel safe, understood. And Raoul tried. 

“Have I seen him here? I promise to believe anything you say.”

When he looked at her with those bright blue eyes, when his golden hair tickled the skin on her cheeks, when she felt his arms around her waist, all the bad scary thoughts seemed to be leaving her.

“No. You haven’t seen him. He lives in the cellar of the Opera. Deep, deep down below” she shivered remembering the maze, underworld made of corridors, dead ends and horrifying traps he devised. “There are many more levels there than we knew about. No one knows about it, about him. He took me there. Last year was my first time.” She could still remember the fog clouding her thoughts when she learned for the first time the true power of his voice. “I’ve been… visiting him from time to time. But, he grows more and more insistent… he wants me there more… and for longer!” 

I know I promised! Erik knows! But can’t you stay one night longer?! Is spending time with Erik such a terrible price for the food you devoured, you ungrateful minx?

“I don’t want to ever go back there… I don’t think he will let me out again.” Not after what she did. What she was doing.

“But… why?”

“He is… very lonely.” She smiled sadly.  “And… ah… I… I believe he loves me.” She felt her eyes watering again. “He is a virtuoso. He sounds like an angel. He possesses a voice one cannot forget. And he’s a genius, he has the most brilliant mind. You should have seen his house underneath! He has electricity and hot running water!”

Only a few years ago, she would’ve thought nothing of it. Now, having those luxuries felt like a miracle. The opera had once relied on comforts brought in from the outside. But when Paris fell, and the lucky few managed to turn this place into a safehouse, they had to forgo them.

The only sources of light were sunlight, candles, batteries, and old flashlights used mostly in emergencies. As Piangi once explained to her: generators were too heavy, too loud, and needed fuel that was nearly impossible to scavenge safely. Besides, there were more important things to take.

That’s why, when she saw a lit room in the maestro’s house, she couldn’t believe her eyes. The overhead light buzzed softly, golden and steady. Christine squinted, not from its brightness, but because her eyes weren’t used to artificial light anymore, nothing this constant, this clean.  And when he told her she could take a short shower—just a few minutes under warm, running water—she thought she might cry.

 In the opera house most plumbing was useless. Water, rationed daily, very strictly, was simply too valuable to waste on anything other than drinking and growing food. 

The moment the water hit her back, she let out a strangled laugh. Warm. Actual warmth. Her skin stung from the temperature, but she couldn’t stop herself. She cried quietly, covering her mouth so he wouldn’t hear.

Then, when she came out, he looked almost euphoric. As if offering all of this to her, that comfort, the luxuries of the old world, brought him just as much joy as it gave her.

She should have been grateful. Part of her was. But another part… it curled tight in her gut, whispering questions she didn’t want answered. How did he keep the lights on? Where did he get the water?

His house felt like paradise. Everything worked. Lights. Water. Even warmth. But it felt too perfect. Christine couldn’t shake the feeling it was a perfectly constructed trap meant to convince her to stay.

“I believe he has never had anyone in his life. You see, kindness is quite foreign to him. And when I smile at him…” she felt an uncomfortable tug at her heart. Then his sad, ravenous eyes and his wolfish smile devoid of all happiness flashed in her mind. She shook her head, trying to throw it out. “But, oh God, I can’t do it anymore! His face! His temper!” 

The painful memories were swarming her.

Damn you! You cruel, deceiving, little..!.... Look at me! I said LOOK at me!.... This is what you wanted, no? You wanted to see the monster?!…..

She felt ill and started sobbing again.

“ It is a disaster! No one would love... accept... such a man! This smell! The body! He looks like one of them ! Or worse! Oh God! Please forgive me! Don’t let me go down there again! I’m sorry! He was so angry. He will kill me! ”

This corpse is the last thing you will see. You won’t leave this tomb now, Christine!

She turned into a mess again. She was hyperventilating once more, feeling the dry blood on her fingers, underneath her nails. Feeling the numb emptiness in her stomach for weeks after he made her open his face with her bare hands. Her chest clenched painfully at the sight of his awful tears leaking from hollow, blackened eye sockets. 

She knew Raoul shook her, he was telling her something, but his voice was overpowered by the desperate screaming in her head.

Christine, you must love me!... Don’t fear me!... Do you want to see some magic? You love magic, my dear child!... I’ll be whatever you want!... See? Your obedient servant. A dog, a pathetic mutt at your feet!.... It would never hurt you! It would rather die, don’t you see?... Please, please, please!... I’ll give you anything you want! You will be my mistress! My queen! My goddess!... Would that please you, Christine?... Stop, stop, stop, stop!... Just STOP fucking screaming!

“Lotte!”

At last Raoul’s voice got through to her. She looked at him with wide eyes, suddenly shocked that she was no longer in the cellar with a weeping man clinging desperately to her dress.

No, Raoul was nothing like her Maestro. He was calm, sweet, collected, and pleasant. She felt safe with him.

“Thank God, you are calm again,” he sighed with relief and caressed her cheek. She could almost see the tension leaving his body except for tightly clenched jaw.

“Raoul, you must believe me!” she whispered nervously, remembering that they should be quiet.

“I do.” 

He brushed her tears away. Then he stopped for a moment and furrowed his eyebrows. Suddenly his mouth went slightly ajar. He hesitated. 

“Raoul?”

“You said something about his voice… that it is unforgettable.”

She nodded. They stared at each other for a moment longer before Raoul broke eye contact. 

“I may have heard him once.”

He took a deep breath. She held hers.

”That is going to be embarrassing. Please, don’t think I am a creep... That was when we weren’t talking yet, when you thought I did not remember you. Well, as you know, I, in fact, did remember you very well.” His cheeks reddened fiercely. “The first night I came to the opera house I… snuck up to the door of your room to talk, ask if you remembered me… I stood there for a second just trying to get enough courage to knock on your door.” He winced and shook his head slightly. She smiled delicately at him and squeezed his hand. “It doesn’t matter! What I wanted to say is that I think I heard him then.”

Christine’s eyes widened.

“Very briefly and quietly, but nonetheless a divine sound. I thought that I just misheard. It disappeared as quickly as I knocked on the door. Then you came and you were so beautiful that I brushed it off and completely forgot.”

She knew what he was talking about. That night, after the joyous reunion with Raoul, she and Erik fought horribly for the first time. And she was so afraid she would lose her teacher and all the music that had returned to her life with him, that she tried to avoid her childhood friend for the following month.

Her throat tightened. Erik was her guardian and her best friend. The only soul who truly seemed to understand her. Not so long ago, she would have trusted him with her life. 

Was she overreacting?

No — she had seen what he could do. She had seen his body, smelled the rot beneath the mask. She had seen his rage and the madness he was drowning in.

And still... a part of her doubted herself.

„What should I do? He will want me to come back.”

„When?”

„I don’t know. In a day. Maybe two if... if I am good.”

„Then stay with me. Stay in my room. He doesn’t want to be seen, right? He won’t make you when you are with someone.”

„He will be angry. He is very jealous. I don’t want anything bad happening to you.”

Raoul scoffed.

„I want to see him try.” He cracked his knuckles. „If I only knew about him earlier... Men like him are no better than the filth on the streets.”

„I’m serious! He’s dangerous.”

„If you are afraid, I can take some men.”

She hesitated for a moment, though the point of no return was already past her.

„He killed a man, Raoul. It was before you came here. Buquet was scum, but he was our best scavenger. He will hurt you, hurt us all , if we are not smart about it.”

Raoul probably knew that too. Although he tried to hide it, she saw a shiver running through his spine and a slight tremor in his hands.

He never knew Buquet, but he surely heard about him. He was one of the Opera’s best suppliers. A middle-aged wounded veteran who, after his service, ended up as a janitor at their opera before all the massacre happened. A massive man who served the community for a very long time and led it through the most dangerous period of the pandemic. Buquet would get Raoul to his knees with one hand — Raoul, who was a young champion himself. If Buquet was put down by Erik, then Raoul did not stand a chance in any potential conflict.

“He is not to be underestimated. Do you remember what I told you about his mind? We don’t know what he is capable of.”

There was also one more thing that she didn’t want to tell him or even fully admit to herself. Something deep inside of her did not want to see her maestro surrounded like a wild animal. Especially not because of her.

She closed her eyes. Everything was so wrong. She wanted so badly to be back in Sweden with her father. She wanted them singing and playing on the streets, watching silly old movies on his laptop in cheap cozy motel rooms, eating hot dogs at petrol stations.

Everything had seemed so fun, easy, and exciting back then.

Now, everything seemed terrifying.

Suddenly Raoul spoke:

“I know what we must do.”

She looked up. All of a sudden he looked very tired.

„Let’s go to Gibraltar with me, Lotte.”

Gibraltar. It was a place he originally planned to go last spring before he decided to stay and help the community. He told her about it once, but having lived her whole life in the isolated opera, she did not want to listen about it, how wonderful he would have it there.

„It will be safer there. You will be free.”

Impossible.

„I can’t.” Her throat went dry. Even the thought of going outside made her freeze. „I won’t last a second out there.”

„You will, with me. I’ll take care of you.”

You are not safe with the boy, ma petite... You will not survive five minutes with him outside... He’s reckless, impulsive. He will die outside sooner or later, and you will be eaten. They will not eat you with Erik… Only I can ensure your safety, dove. You will never be hungry with me. The boy will give you cans. I can give you meat...

„I don’t...”

„It’s not safe here any longer. You said so yourself,” he emphasized.

„It’s safer here than outside!”

„Christine, listen,” he sighed and lowered his voice. „We would probably have to leave soon either way. I am not supposed to tell anyone this, but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. Please do not panic.”

She swallowed. It meant bad news.

This time Raoul was the one to look around. He raised his hand in a calming gesture.

She felt as if she was already panicking.

„The opera is running out of food. So are the nearby stores and apartments. Firmin and Andre don’t want people to know because they don’t want fighting, but we won’t be able to bring enough food in time. People eat in a day more than scavengers can bring and grow in a week.”

She looked at him, his words were not quite reaching her mind.

„We have an emergency supply...”

He frowned and rubbed his face.

„Yeah. We emptied half of it last month.”

Her empty stomach was turning. She felt her legs giving out.

Was that why the directors were behaving so weirdly in the last month?

„But we are starving and rationing...”

„We are starving to make it last two more months. Before that, they will have to decide on something. Probably send more people for scouting.”

„But the only ones left are women and children.”

Raoul nodded, sadness vivid in his eyes.

„The young Giry already knows she’s going.”

Oh, no.

Meg...

“They haven’t thought of sending you yet—God knows why. But they will,” he explained with furrowed eyebrows, suddenly quite nervous, spurting too much information far too fast. “I thought if you went with me, it would be all right, but I guess there’s no point in coming back here anymore.”

“Do you want to leave these people?”she demanded. “We’ve lost too many scavengers already!”

This way of thinking was not like Raoul at all. He was the closest she knew to a Superman—always helpful, mindful, strong. He would do everything for the community. He could have left, lived a better life, but he decided to stay in this prison, only so others wouldn’t starve.

When he spoke, she knew she had struck a chord.

“There’s not enough of them either way.” His voice turned harsh. For the first time this evening, his eyes went cold and his lips became a thin line. “And the more they starve, the less selfless they become. Jules is leaving with Trish after the next run. Sorelli didn’t die. If all is good, she’s heading north—probably already halfway to Amsterdam.”

She covered her mouth with her hand.

They were quiet for some time, the weight of the news tolling on them too much. Then, after a few minutes, he spoke quietly, the sudden tenderness in his voice surprising her:

“I cannot demand sacrifice from others. They are free to go, just as we are. Please, Lotte, don’t think for a second that I want to abandon these people.” He touched his chest and looked at her with force and determination. “I’ll live with the guilt for the rest of my life,” he rasped and took her hand. “But surely... surely you must already know how I feel about you.”

The boy loves you, Christine. I can see it in his eyes, in his movements, when he follows you. I almost pity him. You cannot toy with his feelings endlessly. Hope is a cruel master. End it. Let him not suffer anymore. Remember—you swore yourself to music.

“I want them alive and well, but more than that, I want you safe and fed.”

Love is like poison. It clouds your mind, narrows your sight, whispers lies into your ears. If you don’t stop this charade, one day his love for you will make him do something truly foolish. And thus, you will kill him.

“I love you,” Raoul swallowed, glanced at her eyes and then at her lips. “Say that you love me, Lotte. Say that you’ll go with me.”

She was so scared. There was death lurking inside the opera house. There was death awaiting outside. She wanted to hide, curl into a ball, and cry. But she couldn’t. She had to think. She had to plan. She needed more time.

“I can’t choose now,” she said quietly.

“I’ll take you to the ocean. Christine, you’ll see the world again! You’ll love Spain—it’s so warm there and...”

He wasn’t listening to her. He was rambling on about Gibraltar and their possibilities, getting more excited with every word. 

But she wasn’t listening to him either.

Her heart was racing. When was the last time she’d been outside the opera house? What if she had to climb something or run for a long time? What if she couldn’t assess the danger correctly or see it in time? She couldn’t fight for her dear life. How far could they get before being eaten?

What about Erik? Could she leave him alone? Would he be safe? Would he follow them?

Suddenly, it became hard and unnatural to breathe. The world was spinning.

“Let’s leave, Christine!” He scared her by grabbing her by both arms. He was so close she could feel his hot breath. “We won’t starve here anymore. And he is not going to steal you away from me.” His lips were almost brushing hers. “Let’s go to Gibraltar, Christine. We’ll settle there.” He smiled. “I’ll take you on tomorrow’s run. We’ll head south, and the others will cover for us.”

All of this was overwhelming. She opened her mouth to say something, but he offered her the brightest, most beautiful smile she had ever seen—

And kissed her.

It wasn’t her first kiss. In fact, it wasn’t even their first kiss. They had kissed once before, many years ago. She was no more than fourteen then. She was traveling with her father through Eastern Europe when she met a sixteen-year-old boy who ran into the sea to fetch her scarf and steal her heart away.

Her father told them the dark stories and legends of the North during their shared lunches. And when he left them, they laughed, joked, scared each other, explored the small town, and shared chaste kisses in the old, abandoned chapel.

The last time they saw each other was on the train platform, where they promised to stay in contact. She bid him goodbye, and he kissed her sweetly in front of his entire scandalized family. 

They wrote to each other nearly every day until the pandemic came, and the lack of electricity and internet cut them off.

But now he was with her again. It was truly a miracle they’d found each other again in all this mess. It was like no time had passed. He still loved her.

His lips were soft, full, and warm. His presence comforting. She felt transported back beneath a cozy blanket, when the only thing ahead was a day spent playing on the beach and singing. This time, when she felt butterflies swirling in her stomach, it was a pleasant feeling. And when she eagerly responded to his kiss, he took her in his arms and swirled her around as if she were a princess.

She laughed joyfully.

The silver ring on her finger was burning.

Raoul put her down, still grinning from ear to ear.

“I’ll start preparations immediately. You can’t tell anyone, Lotte. If they know, they won’t let me leave that easily. I’ll arrange everything, and you must go to sleep. The first days will be the roughest, but once we get out of the city, you’ll see it’s not so bad.”

“Raoul, wait...”

Would they go through the town? Which route would they take? On foot? He was unintentionally keeping her in the dark. It all felt so rushed. 

And more importantly, she hadn’t even agreed yet.

“I know you’re scared,” he interrupted her again. He kissed her forehead and patted her head affectionately. “I’ll give you a crash course before we go.”

“How to survive the apocalypse for dummies?” she raised an eyebrow.

He laughed.

“Exactly. But I guess you already have the basics from movies. And the rest from surviving here. Just stick with me, and everything’s going to work out.”

No, no, no! I simply cannot fathom what you fail to grasp... Now tell me, where did you make a mistake?... There is absolutely no margin for error, you foolish girl! You must think five steps ahead at all times... Most of them are mindless, yes, but that does not mean you can afford to underestimate the danger! That’s how people get eaten!... What if some imbecile thoughtlessly left a window ajar, allowing them to slip inside at night?... No! Again! What are the first five things you do when you are alone outside on the open streets?...

“Hey! Are you even listening to me?”

She shook off the memories.

“...Uh, yeah.” She grimaced. “Do you think he would follow us?”

“Do you?” She lowered her gaze. He looked at the city drowning in darkness. The chilly night breeze blew past them. “It doesn’t matter. I know I don’t know the guy much. He may be someone not to mess around with, but that only stands while we’re here. Following someone out there is a suicide mission. It’s hard enough to survive without a path set in stone. Once we’re out, he’ll just be one of your scary stories.”

Suddenly the wind grew stronger, knocking over a plastic flowerpot. Christine jumped and looked in its direction, once again remembering to be aware of her surroundings.

“Do you think he heard us?” she asked Raoul, not taking her eyes off the flowerpot and scattered soil.

“No,” he said, directing her attention back to him. “Even if he did, how much can one man do in a day? We’ll be far away before he even realizes you’re gone.” 

He kissed her on the cheek. She smiled softly, feeling a little better. She stood on her toes and kissed him once more.

He was probably right. Erik was down in the cellars, immersed in his angry, morbid music. When he remembered her, she would already be gone.

And she would have her angel of music no more.

“Let’s go,” Raoul whispered excitedly in her ear. “Our new life starts in a day. We must prepare.”

Then the alarm rang.

Chapter Text

“What the hell? Is that...?”

She could hear awful, clearly unskilled trumpet sounds that were tearing the air as if they wanted to get out of this place. Someone was smashing energetically into the crash cymbals, creating a heart-gripping cacophony that died all too soon. Years ago, she would probably laugh at the ridiculous sound. 

Now the only thing she heard was desperation. 

Nonetheless, it was a blessing. The instruments pierced through the walls of the opera, allowing them a head start before the massacre.

“The alarm.”

Raoul looked at her wide-eyed. His breath momentarily quickened.

If you hear the alarm, it means the opera has fallen. You must get out of it as quickly as possible. And don’t look back, dove. Not for anything. Not for anyone. If you can, come to me. If you can’t, run and stay safe. I will always find you.

Christine shivered.

“Oh God,” she whispered under her breath. If someone started the alarm, it meant they were swarming at least the ground floor.

“Fucking bloody shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! We must go down, now!” Raoul grabbed her hand and tried to pull her inside, but she resisted. Before he could speak, she pulled him to the side of the terrace. Her body felt heavy. Like she was moving in a tar. They needed more information before they went down.

Strangely, a weird kind of clarity fell upon her mind. Out of all of her recent problems, this one might be ironically the one she was the most prepared to face. The only one she kind of knew how to handle.

“We need to check how many of them are inside. And where they are coming from.” her voice sounded like it didn’t belong to her.

She knew Raoul was likely taken aback. His lips tightened in a straight line, his eyes narrowed. But there was no time for too much thinking, and deep down he knew that it was a better choice than jumping straight toward the unknown. Therefore, thankfully, he did not protest, and they rushed toward the edge of the rooftop.

They looked down. Christine instantly felt ill at the sight.

It was horrible.

Normally, the infected would be swarmed all around the opera, lured by the smell and the voices from the inside of the building. They would create a crowd similar to the ones she saw at her father’s biggest concerts. They would come from two streets afar, creating a filthy, moaning, living web that caught everyone who dared to step a foot outside without a good-enough plan.

Every day they punched, scratched, and pushed onto the main entrance, reminding the inhabitants of the death waiting outside.

Now, the front doors were wide open, inviting. The infected were quickly pushing in, as if they were guests that couldn’t wait for the premiere of the new play, making the streets already half empty in seconds.

Raoul took a step back. He was white as a sheet of paper. She probably looked pretty similar. Probably worse.

“Jesus fucking Christ… I thought it was a broken window,” he gasped.

Her mind was racing.

From the rooftop, she had only three options. None good.

Two of them included going as fast as possible to the first floor and jumping down from the window. If the mindless infected were going inside after the smell and the sounds, there should be much less of them around the building. Especially on the sides without the entrances. She could pick either side depending on the situation on the first floor.

The third option, the one she didn’t really want to pick, meant going to the second floor, to her garderobe, and through the secret entrance. As long as she locked the door behind her and barricaded it, she should be safe. From there, Erik would surely fetch her, help her, keep her safe. The only thing she would have to fear would be his wrath.

 And based on what was happening on her last visit in his underworld, she probably had much better chances of survival going straight for the jump from the rooftop…

She looked at Raoul and saw a flash of determination in his eyes. He didn’t give himself long to panic. Years of being a scavenger were beginning to show once again.

“We’ll make it to the first floor, if we’re quick. Don’t worry, Lotte. I got out of much worse,” he growled and led her to the staircase.

He put a palm on the doorknob and hesitated. He listened for a moment.

It wasn’t quiet. The alarm was now replaced by voices. The faraway, soul-shattering screams. It didn’t take experience to know that people were being eaten alive down there. They screamed their prayers and their curses while the monsters had their feast. But the fact that the echo of their screams faintly bounced off the walls of the staircase meant the danger was still far enough.

He swung the door open.

They sprinted downstairs, jumping three stairs at a time.

Soon, the dark corridor swallowed them whole, narrow and suffocating, its cracked walls brushing their shoulders as they ran next to each other. Once lined with velvet and gold, it was now a hollow ruin. Torn drapes sagged like hanging corpses, and shattered sconces sent shards crunching underfoot. The air reeked of damp wood and dust, each echoing footstep chasing them like a pack of wolves.

She had to remind herself that as disturbing as it was, the path to safety was quite simple. They knew it by heart. They just had to be quick about it. She didn’t even feel the fatigue yet! They were already on the third floor! She could see the majority of the staircase to the second floor. It was empty and if they made it to the…

Suddenly, just as they took their first steps down the stairs, she saw Piangi and Carlotta right below them. Seeing them was like looking in the mirror. They too were holding hands, running, gasping for air. Both as white as ghosts. Christine wasn’t sure if it was relief or sorrow painted on the faces of the former opera leads when they saw them.

“They are on the second floor! The west wing staircase should still be free, but they are here!” Piangi coughed. He was holding a bloodied broomstick in his right hand, an undeniable proof that he knew what he was talking about.

Without question, Raoul and Christine turned on their feet and began running upstairs and through the corridor. Now the west staircase was their only option.

Christine felt adrenaline flowing through her veins with every pump of her poor, panicked heart. In a normal situation she would probably be lying on the floor gasping for air by now, but the sheer animalistic will to live forced her to keep going.

It couldn’t be said about Carlotta.

Carlotta was an older woman. Mean, bossy, and arrogant at the very least. She screeched like a harpy, especially when angry — which was almost all the time. Christine didn’t particularly like her, but it was Carlotta who taught her how to grow tomatoes, who sat beside her and gave her medicine when she was sick, filthy, and vomiting. She was never meant to be a keeper of the hearth, but couldn't take up any other job inside the opera due to her poor health. She helped and cared for them with a lot of complaining and curses, of course, but nevertheless she did.

Now, it was she who clearly needed help. 

She was panting, completely out of breath. She was tripping on her feet, and by her hazy stare Christine could easily tell that her body would give out any moment now. And then she would be as good as dead.

Christine grasped Carlotta’s arm and pulled her hard, helping Piangi steady her on her feet.

„We are close!” Raoul rasped, turning toward the staircase in the west side of the building. He jumped in huge leaps down the stairs in front of them, completely outpacing them.
They rushed downstairs. Half-floor… Second floor… God, they were almost there!

When they got to the edge of the staircase leading to the first floor Raoul was almost a store below them, almost at the first floor.

 „Broom!” he screamed suddenly.

Piangi swung hard, throwing him the bloody stick without thinking twice.

 Raoul caught it effortlessly and turned back, running toward them. In two jumps he was already on the half floor and only then Christine saw what he saw earlier.

 The infected. There weren’t one or two. There were dozens of infected coming their way, like flood they filled the entire space on the corridor.

They were humans back in their days. People working in the nearby shops and bakeries. People living nearby, taking a stroll. Tourists and classical music enthusiasts visiting the opera house. People living their life peacefully.

Now only their overall shape reminded the living of their origin. The rest was an abomination.

The scraps of their remaining clothing were bathed in the blood of their victims. Underneath, they were almost skinless. Scraps of it, brown and rotten, hung here and there from the little that was left of their muscles. What poured out of their bodies seemed not to be blood, but a weird, dark substance. Bared lipless mouths, red teeth and nails, hollow fogged eyes signaled that the only thing left inside of them was the hunger that was pushing their rotten bodies to their limits. 

They weren’t as slow as she thought they would be. There was no grace in their movements, but they were sure and strong as a battering ram. They were closely behind Raoul, reaching out for him, not letting him get even a small breather. Thankfully he was quicker than living or unliving beings out there.

It couldn’t be said about Christine, Piangi and Carlotta. And if that was the case, the only thing that could save them would be the small advantage of the distance, which could be a fickle thing. Raoul knew that too.

 „To the first room with a window! Lock the door!” Raoul screamed at them. He turned around, managing to push a few infected with a broom down the stairs, making them fall back like dominos. That managed to stop the monsters, but not for long. Already stuck somewhere between life and death, they had little care for broken bones or pain, if they even felt any.

Christine threw Raoul last quick concerned glance, then quickly turned around. She held Carlotta, dragging her swaying figure step by step through the corridor. Piangi was already a few steps in front of them tugging at the door knobs to the rooms with a mournful expression.

 The first three were locked and the fact why they didn’t relent was quite obvious to all of them. The quick realisation that some survivors were already there, too scared to even make a sound, let alone let them in, was painfully natural. 

 The fourth and fifth were a bitter surprise - they opened but they had no window.

 “Fuck!” screamed Piangi, kicking the door closed. The mirror on the wall trembled because of the impact.  Then the realization hit her.

 „Take the eighth!” Christine screamed at the man.

The garderobe. Her garderobe. It wasn’t that far. She could already see it! She would somehow plead with Erik. She would give him what he wanted. She would beg him to let them all in. Their chances at surviving were disappearing with every second of her hesitation. And it was their best chance at surviving now.

 „The eighth doesn’t have a window!” Carlotta coughed…

Piangi ignored them. The sixth was the charm.

 „I’ve got it!” Piangi was already holding a door open. „Quicker!”

Piangi wasn't aware that the infected were behind him. Or maybe he was, but his eyes were trained on his wife alone.

So many of them ran straight at his exposed back. With nothing to push them back but his hands he was helpless. It was a matter of seconds before they got to him. He would be much better off closing the door and hiding by himself.
Yet he didn't even flinch. He stood there, his hand drawn out to them. So close…

Christine pushed Carlotta in Piangi’s direction and looked around.

„Raoul!” Christine screamed helplessly.

She saw him sprinting for his dear life, a broomstick already lost, with a horde of infected right behind him.

„Christine, we must close the door!” she heard Piangi.

“A second! He’ll make it!” she rasped, then turned back to Raoul. “Run!”

Piangi began to close the door. She jumped to it and blocked the door with her body.

„Stupido, lascia andare!”

Christine looked behind them on the other end of the corridor to assess the situation and she froze.

Only a few steps away from her was an infected. Staring right at her. Salivating.

 The creature was extending its hands just as Piangi did only half a second ago... Only one leap and it would be able to grab her.

The flashes of empty corpses, humans eating humans, abandoned children and hanging bodies as she and her father were running away flashed violently in her mind. 

Her stomach turned in fear and she could swear her heart stopped.

And then she knew she couldn’t do it.

 She wanted to live. She didn't want to be eaten alive. Not like this. She wasn't ready for death. She wasn’t ready for the pain. She did not even have the confirmation nor the last sacraments. There was no way she would meet her papa again!

She gasped and quickly pulled back inside the room, completely letting go of the door.

 Piangi pulled the door with his whole force. But Raoul was not far. He jumped and by some miracle managed to grab the doorframe, holding it just enough to slide himself through the remaining gap inside the room.

Right then the door closed with a loud crack and bang. Carlotta momentarily was on it, locking it with a key. The bodies of the infected slamming the wooden door. And right on the doorstep lay two blackened, dripping fingers cut off by the sheer force of the closing door.

Christine shivered. A millisecond longer and they would have become a meal. Less luck and they would be dead.

Without a word all of them began moving the little furniture there was in the room to the front of the door in order to barricade it. The sound of the screams outside were ringing in their heads. By the look on Piangi and Carlotta's faces she knew she would have to defend herself soon enough. But now there were more important things to do and think about.

Only when all was set and they were fairly safe for the time being did she have time to take a breath.

She looked at Raoul. He was sitting on the floor, with red spots on his face, hair wet and tangled, gasping for air.  But somehow still alive. 

She felt adrenaline leaving her body, replaced by deep guilt eating her from the inside. His eyes were trained on her. They were burning.

„You saved me.” A small smile danced on his lips as he shook his head slightly. “And there I was, only minutes ago, telling you that I would save you.”

Though he meant the opposite, his words felt like a smack on the cheek. She swallowed nervously.

 It was all so fast he probably didn’t notice that she intended to abandon him. That she was a horrible, horrible person. A coward.

She felt heat on her neck and face.  She squeezed her hands tightly. 

Did Piangi notice? Or Carlotta? Would they tell him?

„She could kill us!” growled Carlotta, answering instead of her.

 Raoul shot her a nasty look.

 „Lay off. You would be dead if it was not for me. We were going straight at them. Bah! Forget about me! You would be dead if she didn't help you run!” he hissed.

Piangi waved his hand as if to chase away an annoying fly. Then he stopped them:

 „It does not matter anymore. We are alive”

He looked at Christine oddly, then focused on Raoul once again.

„And what is important is whether you are infected.”

All eyes landed on Raoul. The atmosphere thickened instantly. But Raoul didn’t look bothered.

 „I’m clean. They took your broom, though.”

That wasn’t enough. Piangi took a step forward, creating a barrier between Raoul and his wife.

„Prove it,” he spat.

Without question, like it was only natural, Raoul stood up and took off his shirt.

His whole body glistened with sweat, freckles and numerous scars marking his skin - a map of his previous adventures. Although the man was lean, his muscles were prominent and tight, used to running long distances and enduring intense physical exertion.

Christine couldn’t help but notice how attractive Raoul was. And it only became worse when he took off his trousers and stood before them in only his boxers. His thighs were as strong and sculpted as his upper body. There was even a small birthmark on his left inner thigh in the shape of a…

„Ok, I’ve seen enough. You’re clean.”

 Ah, right. No bite marks. Thankfully.

 Raoul noticed her stare and sent her a tired smile. Nonetheless, he managed to wink at her while he dressed.

Her heart raced yet again. She could have sworn she was bright red at that moment. She looked away.

How could she even have the audacity to look him in the face? She was no better than Piangi or Carlotta.

„Oh, please. Are you truly going to do this with them behind the door?” Carlotta snorted.

Raoul just rolled his eyes.

 „Think better about how we are going to get out of this buco di merda!”

Christine looked around. It was a garderobe, though not her own. It was bigger, dustier, and far less stocked. Only a desk, two chairs, one row of costumes by the window, and a ton of spiders in the corners.

She came to the window and looked down. It was high, and they couldn’t exactly risk a broken leg or a sprained ankle. The room wasn’t on the front side of the opera, and though the street wasn’t crowded, some infected were still wandering around. After the jump, a sprint to the less populated street would probably be necessary. 

Raoul joined her, and from the grimace on his face she knew he thought something similar.

Christine sat down by the window. She felt dizzy and tired. They were supposed to eat in the morning — not much, but still. Now she could forget about that. Instead of the enticing smell of a fish can and fresh, ripened tomatoes, the only thing she would smell was rot and blood. If it wasn’t for the fact the opera had been fasting for two days already, she would surely have vomited.

Behind her, Carlotta started crying. Loud, ugly sobs filled the room, accompanied by Piangi’s words of comfort. She felt Raoul’s arm close around her. He pulled her to him. Only when she felt wetness on his neck did she realize she was crying too.

Thoughts about Erik crept into her mind like worms — unwanted, unexpected, and uncomfortable.

 Was he safe? Was he down in his house, or was he caught in this mess as well?...

Was he dead?...

No. No, she couldn’t think that way. Erik was too smart, too cunning, too competent to get himself eaten. He had to be okay…

 Would they even eat him?...

Raoul snapped her out of her thoughts.

“What happened down there?” he asked, when Piangi finally managed to console Carlotta.

“I’m not sure. The alarm rang, everybody panicked and then… the front door just… well… they just opened.”

Christine let go of Raoul and looked at Piangi with wide eyes.

 “Wait. It rang before they opened?”

Carlotta nodded and continued.

“We thought some window went out.”

“We saw no one hitting the alarm. At least not the main one. It just… hmm… rang.” Piangi winced, probably knowing how ridiculous it sounded. “Then, a minute later, the door opened.”

Raoul snorted.

“How could they just open? They were locked. Permanently. Someone had to be there for a longer time to open them.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Piangi growled. “We were there, Chagny. I saw it. They just opened. Automatically. Take it or leave it. Explain it however you want. As far as I’m concerned, it could’ve been ghosts. The fact is, there were hundreds of them flooding us in no time. Sorry I didn’t check twice to make sure who it was and how it was done.” He looked at Raoul as if he were an idiot.

They were quiet for a few minutes. Then finally, Christine quietly spoke.

“Who is dead?”

Piangi looked down, his jaw clenched. When it was clear he wasn’t going to speak, Carlotta sniffed and took the initiative.

 “Firmin and André are gone. They were by the door when it happened. Old Madame Giry also didn’t make it. I saw her fighting, but she was bitten for sure. She saved her little girl, though. We also saw the…”

Her mind went blank. The names became gibberish, the events started to mix up in her head. 

“What are we going to do now?” Carlotta asked, ending her monologue. 

At first they all were quiet, at a loss for words. Then, Piangi and Raoul slowly began to consider different options for getting out of the room. Making their way through the corridors was automatically deemed impossible, while climbing downwards using protruding cornices, railings and carvings, still seemed too risky and tiring, especially for Carlotta. After a short but lively discussion they sat in silence once again, the mood even more gloomy and hopeless.

Raoul looked around, then  he fixed his gaze on the clothes hanging nearby. After a minute of thought he pointed at the clothes and looked at Piangi. The older man winced, probably already knowing what the younger man was thinking about.

“I think we can make a rope from that. I think it will be strong enough… With this amount and with some luck we should make it to the first floor.” Raoul was already calculating aloud “The room below us should be mostly empty. Piangi and I will clear out the room. Then you both can join us. From there it should be much easier to escape.”” 

“Is this plan from a movie?” Christine finally spoke. He sent her a bright smile.

“Yeah, but I improved it. Pretty good, isn’t it?”

“Dio, tienici nelle tue cure…” sighed Carlotta.

They ignored her and with no better option they began to work in silence. They ripped and tied the clothes together, and tried it by pulling. The only thing that made her believe that it could work was Raoul who gave the impression he’d done it before. To be sure, she quietly asked him about it, when they were testing one of the last knots.

“Only once, around…hmm... two years ago? And with covers, not clothes. It was actually Phil’s idea.” Ah, his older brother. Christine realized she never asked him what happened to his family. He was such a happy go lucky guy, always an optimist… She simply forgot that he might have a history too. “We were searching out old apartments in Nürnberg, hoping to find something to eat. We were very hungry. ‘I’ll stupidly risk my life’ kind of hungry.”

“What happened to him?” Raoul lowered his eyes and his gaze became distant. His shoulders slumped.

“Something that won’t happen to us, hopefully.” She had no idea what to say.

“Raoul, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be.” He spat angrily, but quickly composed himself. “Sorry. It wasn’t because of the rope. But later that night he got bitten during a fight. He protected me. And I didn’t have the balls to put a bullet in him as he asked me to. Now, he’s forever hungry, heh.” His laugh was grim enough for Piangi and Carlotta to look at them a bit concerned. “I left him to rot away in his favorite city. I don’t even have a right to be sorry for him.”

She wanted to do something, say something to console him, but he took the rope out of her hands, stood up and walked away before she could do anything. He looked at Piangi.

“Ready?”

Piangi sighed, kissed Carlotta on the forehead and quietly whispered some words only she could understand. Then he stood up as well, giving Raoul a metal pole ripped out from a clothes hanger, keeping one for himself.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

Raoul nodded, then looked at Christine one last time and smiled weakly.

“I’ll see you in a bit.” 

Christine stood up, slowly came up to him and hugged him. She knew that it had to be done, but it felt unfair for him to risk his life yet once more when no one in this room seemed as keen on returning the sentiment. Once again she felt shame tugging at her heart. She couldn’t bring herself to stop him though. 

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, Lotte. Everything will go smoothly.” Then he pushed her slightly.

He tied the rope tightly to the radiator underneath the window and threw it outside. It did not reach the ground, but they were expecting as much. Thankfully though, as Raoul said, it was enough to get to the first floor.

Raoul did not wait for long. With an impressive speed he got out of the window and started climbing down. When he was at the level of the window Piangi looked down and whispered.

“How many?”

“Five. Be quick.”

And just like that he kicked through the glass and jumped in. In a split second Piangi was sliding down himself. Christine and Carlotta stood by the window nervously listening for any sign of distress. There were a few huffs and thumps, signs of a fight but no screaming. Christine suspected they tried to be as quiet as possible not to lure  more of them in.

She felt Carlotta's palm on her wrist. Christine looked at her. The old woman was biting her nails.

“They will be all right. They are both scouts. They know what they are doing. They do this every week. They are going to be ok.”

Only then Christine realized she wasn’t breathing. She took a shaky breath in and out. But only when she heard the sound of the doors closing could she feel her chest relax.

“All clear! The door is locked!” Raoul shouted. Christine could say Carlotta did not quite trust him.

“Any bites?”

“None!”

Carlotta hesitated.

“Ubaldo?”

“It’s safe, mia cara!”

Now she saw Carlotta give out a shaky breath.

“I’m going down!” she announced and she did.

 The rope was holding strong as Carlotta began her slow way down. Before she got to the middle of it, everything went downhill.

Suddenly, the corridors filled with unnerving buzzing. It was a metallic sound, so uncommon and almost forgotten that she felt her ears prickling and anxiety rising in her chest.  It sounded suspiciously like… opera speakers. But it was impossible…

Then it stopped and a single bell rang throughout the opera, clear and loud, suggesting to the nonexistent audience that the show is going to resume in nine minutes.

Christine froze looking at the door leading to the corridor. Once again a white noise went out from the speakers and after a second, all at once it was replaced by beautiful classical music. It used to be a pleasant background to polite conversations during the intermissions. Now it was so loud she could feel it in her entire body. Her ears began to ache instantly.

She went toward the door. She could no longer hear the infected by the door. 

However, she heard loud impatient knocking.

“Christine, open the door.” 

She would know that voice anywhere.

“Erik!” she gasped  and she tried to lean over the door. It was difficult with all of the furniture in the way. But she had to hear him.

 “Christine! What is going on there?!” She could barely hear Raoul screaming from the window below. His voice seemed so distant. And somehow less important now.

“Open the door now. We must leave immediately.”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are they still there? Did they bite you?”

“They did not touch me. It is safe now. You are safe.” His voice was so gentle. “Please, Christine,  just open the door and come with me. The opera is useless for us now. We must go until the speakers are still working. We don’t have much time.”

…Of course. It was his doing. Only he was capable of miracles.

“I can't,” she said under her breath. There was so much unknown. So much she feared… He was violent. He was dangerous. “I must go with Raoul.”

“I’ll take you anywhere you want. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll agree to any terms. I’ll be gentle. Just say you want to go with me.” There was an unsettling pleading hopefulness in his voice. It was hypnotic, addictive, but she knew it too well to fall for this trick so easily. 

“You will be safe with me. You will never be hungry. We will be happy.” He once again was tempting her. Long ago she thought him an angel. Now he reminded her more of a devil whispering lies in her ear. She shook her head.

“Lotte!” Raoul shouted, but once again she ignored him.

Her hand was centimeters from the doorknob.

“I can’t go with you! I told him…”

“As far as Erik knows your promises mean nothing, darling. Now. Open the door.”

The doorknob rattled impatiently. She jumped away as if it could burn her.

“I’m sorry Erik!” she turned toward the window. “I wish you luck, Angel.”

“Wait! Wait… Christine, please, I beg you—do not leave me.” There was a drastic change in his voice. A sudden tremor of panic together with a shadow of sorrow and hesitation made it almost unrecognizable,"Please, open the door. You must help me—I - I am wounded.”

Her heart stopped, but her body moved of its own accord.. She started to move the furniture that formed the barricade.

“What? Where?” she choked out.  

The bell resounded two times now. Then the overwhelming music resumed. Four minutes left.

Her hands began to shake, her nervous moves were uncoordinated when she hurriedly put the chairs aside. 

“My leg… I believe it is broken” he hesitated. “I lied to you. I was afraid you would not open… if you knew. I fell down the stairs while running here—one of them seized my ankle” his voice cracked. A quiet sob escaped him. The doorknob rattled again, even more impatiently. “Christine, I cannot manage an escape on my own. They will tear me apart. Please, dearest, you are all I have. I am terrified… I do not wish to die.” 

“Christine!” Raoul shouted again.

God, what if he was tricking her? What if she was going to regret this? But what if he was telling the truth? She knew she probably should leave him either way.

 But it was Erik. 

“It’s him Raoul! Wait for us! He is wounded! I’ll help him and we'll come to you!” she screamed back hoping that the man heard her.

“What?! Christine, no! He’s tricking you! He got bitten!”

“Christine, help!”

Christine shivered. She grabbed the doorknob.

“Christine! I’m coming up!”

“Father forgive me…” she quickly murmured alongside a short prayer. It could be her end.

But when she opened the door there was only him. Erik. 

He towered over her, leaning against the doorframe, so close to her. He was wearing a long, thick, black coat that was clearly too big even for him. His wild yellow eyes were wide with wonder behind the porcelain mask.

“Come! Lean on me! Quickly!” she scream-whispered and with one hand she caught his waist in an embrace. His breath hitched as soon as she touched him. She felt him stiffen and tremble. It was probably the first time she touched him of her own violation. She usually shunned his touch as much as she could.

She looked around quickly. The infected seemed to be crowding and jumping, desperately trying to get to the speakers that were now emitting a beautiful opera singing.

She tried to drag him inside to the room, but still as a statue he didn’t move an inch. He seemed completely immune to the chaos around him. To be honest he seemed not to breathe either. When he finally spoke, which seemed like ages, his voice was unsure, quivering with anticipation and longing.

“We must go. Help me to the mirror.”

“No! We don’t have time! Not in your state! We must go to the others!”

“Your handsome boy, I presume?” The sudden change in his voice surprised her. Bitter, proud, commanding. Yes, this was the tone that she heard more often. 

“Stop it, Erik. It is not important now! ” She tried to pull him inside, but despite his unnatural thinness and broken leg he seemed to be cemented to the floor.

“Yes, unimportant indeed. We can finish our tête-à-tête in our house.”

“No.” She furrowed her brows and pulled him once more, this time less confidently. He was unyielding. She looked down at his legs. Neither one of them looked in worse shape than the other. There were no signs of struggle either. She pulled her lips into a line.

He did it again.

“Do hurry, Christine. Should your boy dare to set foot here, I can’t guarantee his safety. I highly doubt he will survive the encounter.” He hissed, his voice full of hatred. She felt his long arm circling her shoulders. She gasped, feeling its strength and pressure. The music from the speakers seemed to grow louder with every second.

“You… You wouldn’t…”

“Ah, but I would, dear. For you see, you awaken the darkest impulses within me. Should I devour him alive personally or should I leave the pleasure to them?” He glanced suggestively at the infected. He leaned on her, his bony grip tighter and heavier than before. There was no running away now. 

“I hate you.”

“Here it is again. Yes, it appears I do often evoke such feelings in others, don’t I?” he laughed maliciously. Then his head turned sharply towards the window. Raoul's hand was already at the window frame. “You distract me,” he growled. “It is time for us to leave.” He started to drag her outside, to the corridor, straight toward the infected. She tried to resist, but she wasn’t as strong or steady on her feet as Erik was.

“Please Erik, don’t do it. Let me help you! Let me save you!”

Oh, the look he gave her. His eyes were filled with such a desperate adoration so different from the harsh look he had just a second ago. His emotions seemed to change with her every word, never predictably.

“I'm afraid I am beyond saving.” His thumb stroked her arm in a tender, unsure motion. ”Christine… it won't be as terrible as you fear. I promise you—fear can give way to acceptance. And acceptance…” His voice broke. ”We will sing together! I will play for you! I won't press you to do anything you don't wish. I’ll be content simply being near you.” He said fervently.

Christine closed her eyes and shook her head. She felt so foolish.

"Let me take you. You want it, don’t you?” He probably meant to be empathetic, but he failed. Then his mind seemed to drift away. ”And perhaps, eventually...“

Then the music stopped. The bell rang three times signaling that act two was about to begin. There was no music anymore. 

The infected. Oh God.

“Ah, I believe our little conversation must come to an end. You see, it was our cue to vanish.”

Suddenly, she felt a pinch in her right arm. She looked right and saw Erik holding a syringe with some substance that was being pushed into her. He was done in less than a second and then he threw out the empty syringe. 

She looked at him with terror.

“Erik…” she said but no sound escaped. 

“I truly didn't wish for it to be like this. It needn't be this way, if only you would come with me!”

She felt her strength leaving her. Now it was her holding onto him. 

“Don't be afraid. You are safe with me, I promise!”

Everything started getting dark and blurry. Erik took her in his arms like she weighed nothing. Her head fell on his shoulder limply.

The last thing she saw was Raoul jumping towards them. The door closed right before him. And the infected on her right, running in their direction.

“Christine!”

 Then the whole world went black.