Ask The Phantom

Are you feeling any better today? Have the clouds parted the way? Has light come through?

O. G.

greetings, my dear monsieur!

thank you very much for checking in! i feel better, definitely!

how are you doing, erik? 🖤

I feel happier knowing that a kind person like yourself feels better. The world is a cruel place, but your letters always help ease my pain.

Life is pure suffering. Believe me, I know. But, fortunately, the beautiful thing about life is that there’s joy hidden between pools of pain. Only those bold enough can find it.

Rejoice in the fact that you can cry, that you can suffer. It means you are alive, mademoiselle. And life is an opportunity: to learn, to know, to find. It means that, even if there are moments of pure pain, there also are precious instances of happiness. And those, mademoiselle, those make it all worth it.

Be patient, mademoiselle. That is all I ask of you. You will find it.

I imagined him walking alone at night while gradually realizing that he past the point of no return.

He didn’t get mercy he begged, no one save him from his solitude..

He was shunned once more. He was left alone, no more Christine, the only one who ever listened to him.

He ached down to the core.

Completely lost, with nowhere to go and nothing left to become.

Not even feel halfway real anymore.

A man was dead, he was just still breathing

i saw the letters between you and raoul. and again, i’m sorry to see you are so broken up about christine leaving you. i wish there was something i could do to make this up to you, because you don’t deserve to be locked up alone in the dark with no one there with you.

contrary to what you say, you are not a monster, nor are you hideous or repulsive. to me, you’re much more beautiful inside and out than raoul. i’ve always seen him as stubborn and selfish. he’s privileged and spoiled. but you, you’re devoted, and it shows in your love for christine. while i do believe are better approaches to showing it, i do not judge you because everyone makes mistakes. especially given your circumstances. and maybe part of what helps me understand you is because i’ve had similar experiences to you… which i won’t get into because it’s off topic.

my advice to you would be to try to distract yourself from christine. i know it’s hard, but it will only make it worse. please let me show love to you best i know how and can despite being remote.

-willamina 🖤

My dear Willamina,

You have proved to be a consistent letter-writer and, overall, kind person. I appreciate your words, I truly do…

However, I find impossible to distract myself from her. She’s consumed me, my whole being, my whole purpose… it all comes down to her beautiful voice, and those soft curls of hers, and her eyes, her smile… even if it was rarely for me, her smile truly shines more than the starts, Willamina. I know you have the heart of a poet and will understand my obsession and my current state. I trust you do.

If it is true that you do not find me repulsive, nor hideous, nor monstrous, and by some chance you ever come to Paris, stop by Palais Garnier, through the entrance in Rue Scribe. I would gladly come to meet you, Willamina, and maybe then I shall fully believe your words… because, as you may understand, even if I know you say them with all the goodness of your heart, I still find it hardly true.

I hope your day is full of fading autumn skies and warm-coloured leaves,

i would love to visit you. i desire with all my heart to see you and comfort you. as of now unfortunately, i can’t leave where i am. besides visiting you, i don’t know how i can prove to you my feelings for you. i wish i could express them even better than just describing them. please, what else can i do to show it besides visiting you?

i have a devotion and deep love for you that i suppose is beyond what words can ever describe and it’s heartbreaking to know i can’t do anything besides just say it.

i hope your days get better. i understand your current situation, truly, i do. i just hope your pain fades soon and you will in short time find someone who sees you the way i do if i can never be where you are.

Give me time. Slowly, I shall begin to trust your words. It will take long, my self-hatred is rooted deep within my soul, as you can imagine…

However, I wish you make one thing clear: your words do help. You are helping me realise that there is someone out there that does not hate me. If it is not a burden, keep writing to me. Please.

writing to you will never be a burden. i love talking with you.

i understand it will take some time to believe my words, but i’m really glad i can help you. i always will.

if times ever get too difficult to hear alone, always know you can talk to me.

I am truly thankful for your support. If you ever need my help, do ask for it, please. I gladly will help you as much as you help me.

i saw the letters between you and raoul. and again, i’m sorry to see you are so broken up about christine leaving you. i wish there was something i could do to make this up to you, because you don’t deserve to be locked up alone in the dark with no one there with you.

contrary to what you say, you are not a monster, nor are you hideous or repulsive. to me, you’re much more beautiful inside and out than raoul. i’ve always seen him as stubborn and selfish. he’s privileged and spoiled. but you, you’re devoted, and it shows in your love for christine. while i do believe are better approaches to showing it, i do not judge you because everyone makes mistakes. especially given your circumstances. and maybe part of what helps me understand you is because i’ve had similar experiences to you… which i won’t get into because it’s off topic.

my advice to you would be to try to distract yourself from christine. i know it’s hard, but it will only make it worse. please let me show love to you best i know how and can despite being remote.

-willamina 🖤

My dear Willamina,

You have proved to be a consistent letter-writer and, overall, kind person. I appreciate your words, I truly do…

However, I find impossible to distract myself from her. She’s consumed me, my whole being, my whole purpose… it all comes down to her beautiful voice, and those soft curls of hers, and her eyes, her smile… even if it was rarely for me, her smile truly shines more than the starts, Willamina. I know you have the heart of a poet and will understand my obsession and my current state. I trust you do.

If it is true that you do not find me repulsive, nor hideous, nor monstrous, and by some chance you ever come to Paris, stop by Palais Garnier, through the entrance in Rue Scribe. I would gladly come to meet you, Willamina, and maybe then I shall fully believe your words… because, as you may understand, even if I know you say them with all the goodness of your heart, I still find it hardly true.

I hope your day is full of fading autumn skies and warm-coloured leaves,

i would love to visit you. i desire with all my heart to see you and comfort you. as of now unfortunately, i can’t leave where i am. besides visiting you, i don’t know how i can prove to you my feelings for you. i wish i could express them even better than just describing them. please, what else can i do to show it besides visiting you?

i have a devotion and deep love for you that i suppose is beyond what words can ever describe and it’s heartbreaking to know i can’t do anything besides just say it.

i hope your days get better. i understand your current situation, truly, i do. i just hope your pain fades soon and you will in short time find someone who sees you the way i do if i can never be where you are.

Give me time. Slowly, I shall begin to trust your words. It will take long, my self-hatred is rooted deep within my soul, as you can imagine…

However, I wish you make one thing clear: your words do help. You are helping me realise that there is someone out there that does not hate me. If it is not a burden, keep writing to me. Please.

My dearest, Christine

I do not believe such words, even if they are written from your own hand and heart. I have looked at you in the eyes and seen you marvel at my music, and I have seen you push through fear at the sight of my face to go as far as kissing me. I know somewhere, in that beautiful heart of yours, there is a fragment of love for that monster that I am… or, rather, for the Angel of Music who taught you to sing.

Think again, Christine. Is not Raoul the most washed-down lover in the whole wide world? Am I not more passionate, more intense, more akin to you?

Please, Christine. Save me from my solitude,

Do not sign with that name if you talk to me. It is simply too harmful, or do you want me dead?

I am sure your poisonous words come from true discomfort, but I doubt it is towards me. If you truly wanted nothing to do with me, you would not write to me.

In relation to Raoul… he does not have a soul as profound as ours. Only I can appreciate your beauty properly, both physical and spiritual. By God, he fainted the first time he saw me, in Perros. He is not worthy of you. He would not have been able to save you if I had not let you go. When you look at him tonight, when you lay down with him, remember my face and my words: he is well below you.

Remember how special our lessons were, Christine. Remember how you loved your Angel of Music…

I have spent years dealing with the trauma you caused me, waking up imagining that I was still in your lair, that I was never to be free again. While I do cherish the time we had when you were my angel, the moment I found out it was a lie every memory I had became tainted.

Raoul is stronger than you believe, and five times the man you are, he appreciates me heart and soul, allows me to express myself and do as I please instead of being pulled around like a puppet on a string, and believe me when I say he loves me in every way a man should love his wife. When I lay with him it will only be he who consumes my thoughts.

I loved the Angel of music, not the phantom, and you were only ever truly the latter.

Christine… such harsh words for someone who only wants to love you… for someone who only wants a bit of company…

Shall I consume myself in hatred? Shall I seek revenge? Oh, Christine… if only you came to talk to me, even through the mirror, like you once did… it would ease the pain that has taken ahold of my heart.

Christine, Christine… won’t you come back to your Angel of Music?

With an empty heart and a clouded mind,

If you dare seek revenge you will regret it, I have grown since you last taught me and though I may not be army best right now I swear I will ensure you do not lay a finger on my family and I. I have responsibilities, a home and others to take care of now, there will be no lessons through mirrors again.

With a clear mind and flared temper,

Isolated as I am from all society, with as much love and passion as I have with no one to give it to, I am bound to become mad. Please, Christine, just a few words with you would help me. You inspire me.

Desperate and pathetic,

Whatever you wish to say is a moot point, I should not even be entertaining these responses but I only do so so that you know my feelings on this matter.

My dear Christine,

How can you say that to me? The mannequin was my only way to hold you, to feel like I was there with you when I could not show myself to you. Christine, I beg yet again for understanding and, this time, for compassion. I was alone. Utterly and desperately alone. Furiously alone. And then, I started teaching you.

You brought light to a place where the sun does not shine, nor the stars, nor the moon do. You illuminated the deepest parts of my very soul. You allowed me to feel love for the first time —and, probably, for the last time. With you, Christine, for a moment, I was whole. I had it all. Those days you spent in my lair, no mask, no looking away… I felt human. I felt human after decades of both society and myself calling me a monster.

During those days when I could talk to you through the mirror, the months when I was your Angel of Music, you gave me hope. Hope that, someday, sometime, perhaps, I could also be loved. And hope is dangerous, Christine. It does strange things to a man.

I needed to prepare for you, for your love. I needed to be with you before being with you. And I oh-so-desperately needed to hold your hand and to feel —to imagine— that you were not repulsed to touch me.

Christine, please. Please. Christine…

I promise I will not try to get you again with my voice. I promise if you come I will only talk. But please. I am drowning in the silence of your absence. Help me, Christine…

[the signature is hardly readable, and Christine makes out the meaning because she knows how he thinks and how he feels.]

I showed you compassion, and you showed me lies and cruelty. I had spent my entire life thinking you were an angel my father had sent to me from the heavens, for a while you were my only friend, the only person I could truly confide in, I didn’t even tell Meg some of the things I told you. But you were not an angel, you were only a man raising me to be your puppet on a string.

It was never your face that disgusted me, I may have been taken aback by your appearance at first but it only shocked me, your actions were what made you a monster. Though Bouquet was not a kind man, he still did not deserve death, and the audience did not deserve to see a public execution when they were only there for a show. You did not even ask me if I wanted Carlotta’s role in Il Muto, I enjoyed playing the pageboy, every action you took only pushed me further away and reconnected Raoul and I.

I can not, and will not, return to you. There are other personal matters that prevent me from going far anyways at the moment, but regardless of that, I still do not wish to see you again. Why do you torture yourself with this hope? I would wish that you did not, for both our sakes.

Concerned and exhausted,

The pageboy?! As if your grandeour could be reduced to that! As if La Carlotta deserved the role of countess! As if- as if any of that matters now that you have left…

All my actions have motivations, Christine… Buquet spoke of my face and my identity to the ballet girls. How could I allow him to speak about me so freely? I admit, his public hanging was a bit of a performance. I was angry at him and at La Carlotta, and I did not choose the best course of action.

Now, to change the topic…

I have spoken with Raoul, I believe you are aware of it. This is your last chance, my dear Christine, to show a bit of compassion to this poor, unlovable man.

Please, Christine. One kind letter. It’s all I ask for.

I truly hope your letter was lost in mail. How incompetent of you to not bring it yourself to Palais Garnier…

I shall forgive you if you answer this time. Bring Christine to me, Monsieur. You are a handsome man for the eyes of most ladies, you will find a replacement easily… me, on the other hand, are not so lucky with my appearance. God gave me this horrible face, you have seen it, but, in return, he gave me something you don’t have: passion.

Christine deserves my passion. My intensity. My love. And I deserve her, for she is the only girl in this god-forsaken world who can look at me and learn to love me.

Raoul, I will not be as kind in my next letter. Be careful, boy.

Mad and furious,

O. G.

Phantom,

You dare to threaten me a second time? You dare to ruin my and my wife's peace? You dare? You truly dare?

How dare you insinuate that Christine has no choice in this matter? Unlike with you, I have not locked Christine up or bound her mind or body. Unlike with you, Christine is free to leave me if she wishes. Unlike with you, Christine is not a Thing for me to keep or give away as I please.

You write to me about passion, about intensity, but I do believe you only know of obsession and desperation. But let us say that it is true you are the more passionate and loving one in this case. Who has Christine chosen? You, or me?

It is Christine's choice in the end. And despite it all she has stayed as my wife. You are mistaken, dear Phantom, if you believe she is a property of mine that I ought to return. She is a mistress of her own actions, and I am the one who obeys as she wishes.

Cordially, Christine's husband,

Some clarifications. I know Christine is free to choose. I also know your opinions and thoughts influence her like mines used to do all that time ago.

Again, you are not the man she deserves. I am neither, she should marry an angel to have someone at her level of beauty and perfection, but I am closer to it than you.

Oh, how arrogant of me, hm? How self-absorbed, this monster!

The thing is, Raoul, that my devotion towards her will remain unmatched. You cannot love like a man who does not have anything. You cannot devote yourself to her like I can. Because I am still devoted, after all this time and all this distance: because my songs are still for her, and every breath I breathe is in hopes that I may see her again. Just once.

One visit. That is all I ask for. To see her and to hear her, maybe to sing to her one more time if she wishes to listen.

But, Raoul… do not take pride in the fact that she chose you. She only chose you because I was the other option… A disfigured, obsessive freak who tried to kill her childhood friend.

I cannot promise I will not try again.

Oh, you are ridiculous, aren't you?

You think you are an angel? Do you really believe that? As a practicing Catholic I am familiar with the concept of angels—a concept that does not apply to you.

Do you truly believe anyone on this earth is good enough for her? Only a fool would believe that. I am far from the man she deserves, this I know, and never once have I thought that to be so. And yet, she still chooses to remain by my side. I was ready to leave her be once she was safe from you, as she had expressed that she desired not to marry, and yet it was due to her own decisions that we did.

As for me being her "only choice"—you are quite idiotic. There are many fish in the sea, and I highly doubt it would be difficult for her to find someone else. You insult her by insinuating that she is not capable of making her own decisions, or that she does not know what she deserves.

You will not be visiting Christine. That, I can promise you. Christine has made that very clear in the letters she has sent you. Yes, she has shown them to me. And I will make sure that her wishes are met and that you will never see her again. You have already had your chance, and she made her choice.

If you knew anything about love, you would be able to respect that.

Most amiably,

Have you even read my letter?!

I said I know she should marry an angel, if she wishes to find someone good enough for her. But, between being with you and being with me, the best option is me.

And I know she could find someone easily. But still, who will she go to? Christine is not one to wander away from what she knows.

Still. I am no longer asking for her in a romantic manner, I just wish for conversation before I go mad. Because the silence, the loneliness, they will make me go mad.

I have too much time on my hands, Raoul. Too much time to feed my anger and thirst of revenge. Too much time to dwell in sadness and rejection.

Time is a dangerous thing, boy.

Phantom,

That you still believe that you are in any position to choose anything for Christine, that you are in any way closer to what she deserves, is proof that you are not. If you ever loved her, allow her peace, you miserable fool!

If you will go mad, then go mad. I hold no pity for you.

Threaten us again and I will go to the police.

The police. As if the police could do great harm to me, the Phantom of the Opera!

I no longer wish for a visit, or a talk, or a letter. The rejection of Christine has, once again, broken me.

No, I no longer wish for kind words.

My wishes are now way darker, Raoul. I am sure I need not remind you to what extent I am bold enough to go…

O. G.

I truly hope your letter was lost in mail. How incompetent of you to not bring it yourself to Palais Garnier…

I shall forgive you if you answer this time. Bring Christine to me, Monsieur. You are a handsome man for the eyes of most ladies, you will find a replacement easily… me, on the other hand, are not so lucky with my appearance. God gave me this horrible face, you have seen it, but, in return, he gave me something you don’t have: passion.

Christine deserves my passion. My intensity. My love. And I deserve her, for she is the only girl in this god-forsaken world who can look at me and learn to love me.

Raoul, I will not be as kind in my next letter. Be careful, boy.

Mad and furious,

O. G.

Phantom,

You dare to threaten me a second time? You dare to ruin my and my wife's peace? You dare? You truly dare?

How dare you insinuate that Christine has no choice in this matter? Unlike with you, I have not locked Christine up or bound her mind or body. Unlike with you, Christine is free to leave me if she wishes. Unlike with you, Christine is not a Thing for me to keep or give away as I please.

You write to me about passion, about intensity, but I do believe you only know of obsession and desperation. But let us say that it is true you are the more passionate and loving one in this case. Who has Christine chosen? You, or me?

It is Christine's choice in the end. And despite it all she has stayed as my wife. You are mistaken, dear Phantom, if you believe she is a property of mine that I ought to return. She is a mistress of her own actions, and I am the one who obeys as she wishes.

Cordially, Christine's husband,

Some clarifications. I know Christine is free to choose. I also know your opinions and thoughts influence her like mines used to do all that time ago.

Again, you are not the man she deserves. I am neither, she should marry an angel to have someone at her level of beauty and perfection, but I am closer to it than you.

Oh, how arrogant of me, hm? How self-absorbed, this monster!

The thing is, Raoul, that my devotion towards her will remain unmatched. You cannot love like a man who does not have anything. You cannot devote yourself to her like I can. Because I am still devoted, after all this time and all this distance: because my songs are still for her, and every breath I breathe is in hopes that I may see her again. Just once.

One visit. That is all I ask for. To see her and to hear her, maybe to sing to her one more time if she wishes to listen.

But, Raoul… do not take pride in the fact that she chose you. She only chose you because I was the other option… A disfigured, obsessive freak who tried to kill her childhood friend.

I cannot promise I will not try again.

Oh, you are ridiculous, aren't you?

You think you are an angel? Do you really believe that? As a practicing Catholic I am familiar with the concept of angels—a concept that does not apply to you.

Do you truly believe anyone on this earth is good enough for her? Only a fool would believe that. I am far from the man she deserves, this I know, and never once have I thought that to be so. And yet, she still chooses to remain by my side. I was ready to leave her be once she was safe from you, as she had expressed that she desired not to marry, and yet it was due to her own decisions that we did.

As for me being her "only choice"—you are quite idiotic. There are many fish in the sea, and I highly doubt it would be difficult for her to find someone else. You insult her by insinuating that she is not capable of making her own decisions, or that she does not know what she deserves.

You will not be visiting Christine. That, I can promise you. Christine has made that very clear in the letters she has sent you. Yes, she has shown them to me. And I will make sure that her wishes are met and that you will never see her again. You have already had your chance, and she made her choice.

If you knew anything about love, you would be able to respect that.

Most amiably,

Have you even read my letter?!

I said I know she should marry an angel, if she wishes to find someone good enough for her. But, between being with you and being with me, the best option is me.

And I know she could find someone easily. But still, who will she go to? Christine is not one to wander away from what she knows.

Still. I am no longer asking for her in a romantic manner, I just wish for conversation before I go mad. Because the silence, the loneliness, they will make me go mad.

I have too much time on my hands, Raoul. Too much time to feed my anger and thirst of revenge. Too much time to dwell in sadness and rejection.

Time is a dangerous thing, boy.