Crescent Angel (A Phantom of the Opera Phanfiction)

Chapter 8: Il Muto

Soooo sorry for the long wait. Our school play is in a week, so there were ten thousand rehearsals, and I've been dumped with homework. But here it is!

Comment what you think :)

<><><><><><><><>

(Charlotte)

Meg looked at me with the widest eyes I've ever seen on her. Her face was completely pale, and her hazel-blue eyes held utter shock. I had just told her about everything that went on these past three months, and that included my feelings for Erik. But I never used his name. Nor did I tell her how to find him or where his lair was. She could have guessed, if she really wanted to. But she would never find out from me where to find it exactly.

She blinked scarcely. "You said you...love him?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. I sat in my chair against the wall while she sat facing me on the edge of her bed. We've been conversing for nearly an hour now, and she's still this shocked? My fingers dug into the velvet of the arms when I nodded. Meg swallowed and looked down.

I quickly made something of it. "Meg, you have to be reasonable with me," I started, leaning forward on the chair. "You didn't experience what I did. All you've heard were rumors and negative perspectives." She kept her eyes locked at her hands in her lap. "I've gotten to know the man under the ghost, as you call him. He's nothing like what everyone describes him as."

Her eyes raised to meet mine. They were surprisingly stern. "You say I don't experience these things?" She asked harshly. I was taken aback, my eyes widening as she jabbed a finger out to me. "My mother is practically a slave for him, and you say I don't know what he does?"

"Meg, I never said--"

"He's spoken to me before, and I know personally that he is not a good, kind person as you say! He is rude and devious!" Her eyes were glossy with tears. But her face was set in a hard expression. "He is everything people describe him as."

"No, that is untrue!" I shouted, rising from my chair. My eyes were fixed upon Meg as I started forward. "You may only see the one side from your short experiences, but I know who he is. I know his life story, and I know his feelings about people. He is rude and indifferent because of his every experience with people." My head whipped to Christine's side of the room. "Christine, the love of his life, showed him no love in return when she tore his mask from his face! Events like those are what cause him to be the way he is!"

My blonde friend stood up from the bed in a rush. "And I suppose you gave him utmost love when you saw his face?" She growled, glaring a hole through me. My anger stopped, and my adrenaline slowed to a halt. When I saw his face...? I never did.

A whisper was all my voice came out to be. "He never showed me his face." He didn't trust me enough to show me. He feared that I would recoil like Christine or turn to run like Luciana. But I am not those girls. I wouldn't cause him more pain than he already has to bear. I would love every inch of him if he'd allow me to. Oh, God, that was all I wanted. I wanted to show him the best love he'd ever experience.

Meg's face dropped slowly in a sort of curiosity at the tone of my voice. "What do you mean?" She asked softly, her eyebrows furrowing. "You never saw what he looks like, but you claim to love him?"

I expected her to say, 'how does that work?' Or, 'you're completely ridiculous, Charlotte.' But nothing else followed her words. Slightly, I nodded twice, my mind jumbling with racing thoughts. "I would love him the same, if not more, if he would ever show me his face," I breathed quietly, calming my aching heart.