plotted starter for @scorpionandgrasshopper
What had she done? What in Heaven’s name had she done? Everything had all happened so fast, it seemed to become one giant mess. How had everything unfolded so quickly? She had never found an answer, no matter how many times she sat in solitude by her window and asked herself that same question over and over again. Things had always been a certain way for a long time, she as a dancer at the opera house and he, her Angel, always there watching over her. So often his presence had frightened her, though the farther away those days became, the more she realized her fear had been influenced by the fear and ignorance of those around her. He had done bad things, she knew that, she was no fool. He had hurt people, killed people, ruined lives-she could make no excuse for that. But what else she could make no excuse for was the fact that without him in her life, there was an emptiness in her as if someone had cut a hole inside of her.
She sighed heavily as she looked out the window, sitting in the window sill as she did each night before she slept. It felt so odd here in Raoul’s home, though she should say it was her own home now too. Ever since the Opera Populaire had become a shell of what it once was, in more ways than one, Raoul had wanted to keep an eye on her. She knew there were many in proper society that believed it improper for her to be living in his home, though she slept clear on the other side of the building in a different wing. But Raoul had insisted, said it would give him peace of mind to know that should danger arise, should she need his help, that he would be there to protect her.
She thought it odd, that he saw himself as her protector. Was it not she who saved him from death that day in the depths of The Phantom’s lair? Was it not she who had bought his life with her kindness? She knew that Raoul loved her and that he meant well, but she couldn’t help the sense of sorrow that she felt in her stomach each time she looked at him. She cared for him, loved him even, and not just because it made sense. She loved him because he loved her, she loved him because he was kind, she loved him because he was brave enough to risk his life for her own. But there was something missing, something she couldn’t quite express. She tried for days in her mind to admit to herself that something was missing, that something was not quite right.
It took so long for her to realize what was missing that days had turned into weeks before she realized the hole left in her heart was because her Angel was gone. She had spent so long with him as her constant companion, his hold having a dominion over her that she gave willingly and blindly, though she could not bring herself to regret it. She blamed herself for so many things that had happened, the mayhem he had caused upon everyone’s lives, simply because she had been naive and foolish. She knew now, now that it was too late, she had clung to Raoul because of the time in her life that he represented rather than who he was and how he made her feel.
Raoul reminded her of the days when her father was still alive, when he would huddle them together and tell them dark stories of the North by candle light. He reminded her of days by the sea when things were simple, of the town that she came from, of her father’s violin, of childhood. She knew now that it was too late, that she had chosen Raoul because she thought it was what her father would have wanted for her, because he had liked Raoul so well when he was alive. She had chosen Raoul as if she thought it would please her father from beyond the grave, as if being with Raoul would honor his memory in a way her Angel could not. But her Angel brought her music, and what could honor her father more than that?
She had not sung a single note without him, could not bring herself to. She had spent so long with his presence in the darkness, protecting her like a spirit from another world, a being she knew would never let harm come to her, that a world without him seemed wrong. She had spent most of her life with him singing songs in her head, with his voice wrapping around her mind and consuming it completely, that she wasn’t entirely sure how to live in a world of such silence. There was no music without him, there was no passion without him, there was no love without him...there was no real life for her without him. Only the sham of a life she had put on, one that hid her the way her Angel’s mask had hidden his face. She should have been kinder about his mask, should never have stolen it from him, should have been kinder about what lay behind the shield. She should have been kinder to him. He deserved more than a rushed kiss in a time of peril when time itself was running away from them. He deserved more, and so did she.
She felt a slight chill on her face, the soft sting of cold, though her brow furrowed in confusion. It was spring time, why was her cheek cold? The breeze that came through her open window was warm though as it touched her cheek she felt a chill, making her realize that a single tear was rolling down her cheek as her Angel played on her mind again and again like a record with a jumping needle. It seemed to skip, like when the record was done playing but had not been flipped yet. She wondered where he was, if he was even alive. From what she knew, from police and from Meg, the mobs had not caught up to him and no one had been able to find him. She wondered if he was alive still, if he had left the city all together, even perhaps left the country.
Was he thinking of her wherever he was? Did he miss her? Did he love her still as he had once confessed he did? She felt as if a single moment had not passed when he was not on her mind, when he did not cloud her thoughts as if he were still there with her. Things were foggy without him, as if she were living someone else’s life and following the motions out of practice and ease. Being on Raoul’s arm no longer felt right, just as singing no longer felt right. Being here in this house, knowing that tomorrow she would be wed to a man she knew no longer held her heart, all of it felt wrong. Her father must be looking down on her from Heaven with such sorrow, so disappointed that his little sparrow had fallen from the skies and landed among the weeds. Was she sinful for loving one who had done so much harm? She didn’t know. But she could no sooner let him go than she could stop breathing.
She sniffled softly and reached up to wipe the tear from her cheek, looking away from the sky to the dress that hung on the wall. This had been her room the last few months but tomorrow Raoul would insist on her beginning to sleep in his room-their room. She swallowed thickly as she got up from the window sill where she had been sitting and walked across the room, standing in front of the dress. It was a beautiful dress, she found it to be quite fine, but she could not help thinking that the one he had made for her suited her more. Had she gone mad that her every thought came back to him like a horse running on a circled track? Perhaps. Could she stop it? No.
She sighed and reached out to stroke her fingers over the lace and beading, shaking her head as she did her best to take deep breaths, trying to dull the ache in her chest. She didn’t bother to close her window as she walked over to her bed and sat down, her back to the window as she stared at the dress. There was no getting out of this now, no loopholes or what ifs. This was happening, she had made her bed and now she would have to lie in it. She sighed heavily and flopped back onto the bed, her fingers interlocked and laying over her ribs below her breasts, her chest rising and falling slowly as she attempted to control her breathing. This was her life now, her life as Raoul’s wife, an ornament on his arm. No more Angel, no more music, no more of her true self. This wasn’t the life she had dreamed of, and it wasn’t the man she dreamed of sharing that life with. This was, in truth, the most heart broken she had ever been. And it was her own fault.