Beyond the Point of No Return

Warning: I am writing this based on the screenplay for the 2004 movie, not the book or the play. Also, there is a strong likelihood that I will skip days or weeks at a time, but I'll always make it clear, so bear with me.


Chapter 1: Think of me

“Whatever you believe, this man... this thing is not your father!” Raoul called. Christine turned from the tomb to see her lover, sword drawn, running up the stairs. Christine heard a sound that she could only describe as a snarl, a feral, savage sound, unlike anything Christine had ever heard from a human. She spun around and saw him jump from the top of her father’s tomb. He attacked Raoul ferociously, forcing him backward. They battled their way around the graves, Christine watching them anxiously. Her own powerlessness burned throughout her, and she cursed herself for being stupid enough to come here alone at the break of dawn. Of course he would be awake and watching her. Of course he would follow her to the graveyard and try to deceive her. She felt herself feeling anger, but a part of her, still in a trance, understood. He had said “Do not shun me.” He only wanted to be a part of her life. He wanted someone to see the man behind the horrific face. A sensitive, mysterious musical genius with a need for human kindness. Christine was happy to give him her company and kindness, but he sought her love, and she couldn’t give him her heart. He could have her mind, she would give that freely, but not her heart. Her heart had been claimed by Raoul. A cry from her lover brought Christine back into reality. Raoul was scrambling back to his feet, dodging another blow from his enemy. His white shirt was stained with crimson blood, but he continued to battle fearlessly, and he began to drive his foe backward. Their blades met, and Raoul pinned his sword to the ground, then shouldered him. He fell to the ground, and Raoul raised his sword, ready to plunge it into his rival’s heart. Christine’s eyes widened, and without thinking she cried out. “RAOUL NO!” Raoul froze, a second away from ending his opponent’s life, and looked at her. “Not like this.” She said, taking a few steps towards her lover, who sheathed his sword and approached her. She looked from Raoul to him. He was lying in the snow, giving her a look that clearly emanated disgust, anger, hate for Raoul, disapproval, but above all, heartbreak. As Raoul pulled Christine onto his horse’s back and rode off at a brisk trot, Christine gazed apologetically at the pitiful man who stood up as she passed by. The horse moved swiftly out of the graveyard, and off into the morning air. Christine could hear Raoul trying to catch his breath, and did not speak. For a few moments, they rode in silence, then Raoul abruptly stopped the horse and dismounted. He pulled Christine down and into his arms, where he held her tightly.
“Christine, I was so scared.” He breathed, his face hidden in her thick, curly hair. “When I saw you there, I thought that I as going to lose you. I thought that you had chosen him.”
Christine wrapped her arms around Raoul’s chest and held him close. “I’m so sorry Raoul. I didn’t know he would be following me. Thank you. That’s twice now you’ve had to fight him because of me.”
“Please Christine, don’t go anywhere alone. Not until he’s gone. He’ll find you and take you away from me.” Raoul said, letting her go and looking anxiously into her eyes. “Promise me.”
“Alright. I’ll stay with someone.” Christine vowed obediently.
As they rode back to the Opera Populaire, His words echoed in Christine’s mind. “Angel of Music, you denied me, turning from true beauty. Angel of Music, do not shun me...”

Christine woke as the first rays of light crept through her window. She climbed quietly out of bed and selected a simple black dress from her wardrobe. She paused in the garden and looked around. There were many types of flowers in her garden, but not the type she wanted the most. When she had spoken of planting roses, Raoul immediately refused, and so no roses were in her yard. There were no plants still alive this early in the year. It was a crisp January morning, and the fog swirled around her feet, so much like another morning. She was soon at her destination, kneeling in front of her father’s grave.
“Father, do you remember, a little bit over two years ago, when I came here?” She asked quietly, looking at the snow gathered on the ground. “I had roses with me that day, and, on top of your tomb, he was there.” Christine had not allowed herself to say or think the name or title of the man who had once loved her so since she left him, broken and desolate, in the bowels of the opera house. “He and Raoul fought. He almost died that morning, but Raoul never actually killed him. He would have, but I wouldn’t let him do it. He’s always in my mind for some reason. I thought that, after so long, I would be better, but he’s always there. Even now, he haunts me. He let me go, but a part of him came with me. I have dreamed about him every night, and during the day, in my mind I relive all the moments I ever spent with him. Why, Father? Why can’t I let him go?” Christine asked, gazing imploringly at the tomb. She sat there for several moments, not expecting an answer, not receiving one. Finally she stood and walked back to the carriage that stood waiting for her. She returned home and crept inside, where Raoul still slept. She crawled back into bed beside him and waited for him to wake up, her mind still focused around him. It made no sense, she mused. She had Emily, her daughter of two years, and Raoul, her husband of three. She had given up singing, wouldn't plant roses, and did not continue with theatre. All of these were Raoul’s preference. He never wanted to think of his enemy again, and, to please her husband, Christine refrained from doing anything that would remind Raoul of him. It worked well, but Christine did miss it. Still, even without the reminders, Christine had the memories, and he was a permanent fixation in her mind, regardless of her efforts.