Of Masks And Roses

The White Room

I sighed as the last rehearsal ended, knowing what was going to come. Since graduation, I had not played professionally for anyone, and that was about a year or so ago. Slowly I climbed down the stairs from the rafters and quietly made my way towards the stage, biting my lip nervously. I peeked out from behind a curtain and over at the managers. They were talking with Monsieur Reyer, who was holding a note in hand. A note with a red skull wax seal.

"So what exactly are you going to do about this?" asked Reyer as I inched forwards, "This Ghost, this thing, has been haunting us for far too long. Lefevre may have put up with it, but I must insist that you do something!"

Firmin rolled his eyes and turned to his partner, "I don't know about you, Andre, but I have yet to receive any notes such as this. Have you?"

Andre shook his head, "No I have not, Firmin. Monsieur Reyer, with all due respect, whatever is going on here I'm sure will go away in due time. We just need to ignore it, yes? Firmin and I have been ignoring it and haven't seen a single shred of evidence that there is such a thing as an Opera Ghost."

Reyer opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted when Andre spotted me, turning away from Reyer and rushing to me.

"Mademoiselle Moore!" Andre boomed as he led me over to Firmon and Reyer. I tried my best to smile, but I'm sure it looked more like a wince than a smile.

Andre didn't seem to notice my discomfort, "There you are! We had begun to worry that you wouldn't make it!" He said, grinning from ear to ear, like usual. Reyer huffed, stuffing the letter in his coat and spun away muttering to himself all the while; the managers not even noticing his departure.

"Andre has told me that you are quite the excellent piano player," said Firmin.

"Oh, she is!" boasted Andre, "Absolutely marvelous! You should have heard her in the practice room, Firmin. I've never heard anything like it. She is going to play us a little song. Right?"

I smiled and nodded, "I am, monsieurs."

"Great! Over there," Andre pointed to a piano downstage left, "Is the piano. Is that alright with you?"

"Yes, it will be perfect, thank you.," I said and walked to the piano. It was a simple wooden piano, it's keys worn and discolored. I placed my hands on the keys and started to play Ancora by Ludovico Einaudi. I closed my eyes as I, again, got lost into the music. As I played, I imagined myself in another place. I was in a field, the bees buzzing by and the sounds of the birds filled my ears, along with the music. But then the image in my mind began to warp as a bright white light appeared, the light slowly growing into a large space; a white room. I looked around and noticed that this was no regular room. It was a hospital room. The smell of disinfectant filled my lungs and the faint sound of a monitor to my right. I gazed down at the bed in front of me. Sitting next to the bed was a chair, and sitting in it was Emily.

My eyes widened and I took a step back, unable to register what I was just seeing. It was Emily! She was here! And she was alright! Tears welled in my eyes and I reached out to touch her, but instead of contact, my hand went through her arm. I gasped, quickly retracting my arm and pulling it to my chest. I gulped, and hesitantly stepped closer.

"E-Emily?" I whispered, looking at her more closely. She wasn't looking at me, but at someone else. A look of sorrow was on her face, and a few stray tears fell from her eyes.

"Please wake up," she said, a few more tears falling down her face, "I need you here. You're the only friend I have. Please." She reached forwards, grasping a pale yet, bruised hand.

I turned to the person she was talking to, and stepped around the bed to get a closer look. I stopped in my tracks, gaping as the sight I saw. In the bed was a girl with long brown hair. She was bruised and battered, breathing softly through a tube. She wore a simple hospital gown and looked almost unrecognisable. I turned away from the sight; the sight of me. It was me in that bed.

My eyes snapped open as I ended the song early, my fingers stopping as I stared off into space with wide eyes, trying very hard to control my breathing, feeling slightly faint. I jumped slightly as I was startled out of my daze, turning to look at the managers.

"Brava!" shouted Andre as he clapped. I quickly put on a fake smile and slowly stood up, walking back to them.

"Mademoiselle, that was beautiful!" said Firmin as he clapped along with Andre.

"Thank you, monsieurs." I said, bowing slightly.

"Maybe someday we can hear you play again?" asked Andre, "A talent like yours can not be ignored, yes?"

I nodded, "Of course, monsieurs, I'd be happy to," I said, "But for now, I must return to my duties. Good day, gentlemen, and thank you for this opportunity."

                                                                                            XxX

I sighed as I entered my room, closing the door and leaning my head against it. I couldn't stop thinking about the hospital room, about Emily, about the state I was in. I looked broken. But here I felt perfectly fine, save for the stitched up shoulder, of course.

'Was it real?' I thought, 'Or just my imagination?' I shook my head and turned around, ready for a good night's sleep. But instead of an empty bed, there was someone sitting on it. With a gasp, I brought a hand to my chest, trying my best to calm my pounding heart.

I groaned, rolling my eyes, "Jesus Christ, you scared me! What are you doing here?" I asked the Phantom, "You know, you really need to stop breaking into my room."

'Do alarm systems exist in the 1800's? Should I get a guard dog?' I thought, the image of a tiny chihuahua attempting to keep the Phantom of the Opera out of my room bringing a small smile to my face.

"You didn't tell me that you could play the piano," he said, standing up.

My smile fell slightly, "Well, you never asked. Wait, were you watching me play?"

"Yes, and may I say that you are an excellent player. I have never, in all my years, have heard anyone play with so much emotion. People in this Opera House don't care to perform that way. They don't play, to play. They play for profit," He stepped towards me, "It's been a long time since I've heard someone perform like that here."

I blushed, "T-Thank you, sir. But, I have to ask, what are you doing here? Are you just here to compliment me?"

He looked away and mumbled something that I couldn't hear.

"I can't hear you," I said, "To answer someone's question, you need to use words." I smirked, crossing my arms.

He rolled his eyes and looked back at me, "I just wanted to know if you would play a song for me, that's all."

I blinked, taken aback. The Phantom of the Opera, the Opera Ghost himself, wanted me to play a song for him? My mouth gaped open like a fish, as I stuttered a feeble response.

He tilted his head, "You know, to answer someone's question, you need to use words." now it was my turn to roll my eyes. Erik's small smile fell as he turned away from me, "But I understand if you don't want to, mademoiselle. It's been a really busy day for you and-"

"No, I'll be glad to," I blurted, cutting him off. He turned back to me, his face lighting up.

"Really?" he asked.

I grinned, "I'd be honored, monsieur."

He smiled and held out his hand to me, "Then let's go."