All I Ask Of You

Christine was once again distracted I could see her fiddling with her hair as I tried to converse like we had used to before she started disappearing and keeping secrets from me. It was nearly impossible to do so as she would only give me short responses or not even respond, staring at me as if she were paying attention but I could tell her mind was miles away.

I sighed taking a sip of my tea, peering at her from over the cup's rim, and seeing her smiling softly to herself.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked as I set my cup down on the saucer.

She only shrugged.

"Oh, it's nothing, I was just thinking about a memory, do you have any memories that make you feel just so happy inside?"

I thought about it, looking back through the memories of my childhood, nothing was happy about those. The memories of being here though that was different, I remembered the night I met Christine, how we had stayed up late into the night talking to each other, getting to know one another about our likes, dislikes, and everything.

"Well, I think it was the night I met you, do you remember that?"

"Yes, of course, I do," Christine told me with a smile.

"So, what about you, what's a memory that makes you feel happy?" I asked.

"My Father playing the violin, he was the greatest musician," She replied looking off into the distance with a small smile on her face.

She had told me many times about her Father, how he would play the violin in front of their house, and a crowd would gather around throwing coins at them, dancing and sometimes singing along with the tune that was a familiar song to them.

I often felt jealous that she had such a happy childhood, wishing that I could've had one just as blissful.

I could feel the memories start to surface, filling my mind with my Father's yells, the sound of crashing, and me sitting in the corner of the room crying and hugging myself, wanting it to stop.

"Celeste, are you all right?" Christine asked as she gently touched my hand.

I snapped back to reality, quickly standing up.

"W-we should go, it's getting late."

Before she could ask any more questions I walked away as I shoved away the memories.

Laying in bed that night I wrote, by the light of the moon to my Mother in my journal, which I know I would never send, Mom warned me before she sent me away to never send anything to her, not wanting Dad to find me and bring me back to this hell hole, as she had put it.

I wrote anyway so that when or if we are ever reunited she would know everything that has gone on, how my performances went, and the friends I had made during my time here. I wanted my Mother to see that I was thinking of her and that I had never forgotten her ever.

I looked over at Christine, who was sleeping silently in the bed next to mine and I set my journal on my nightstand, about to go to sleep when I heard what sounded like the sound of an organ playing.

I sat up, looking around in confusion, and slid off my bed, heading towards the door, opening it, and looking down the stairs, hearing the sound eerily continuing to play.

I went down the steps, following it, trying to find out who or what was the cause of the sound.

It seemed to come from all around, within the walls of the building, but I knew that was impossible, where else could it be coming from?

I traced the walls with my hands, my ear close to it as I listened to the sound, but suddenly it stopped.

I had heard rumors of there being an Opera Ghost, mysterious letters always being sent to the manager on instructions of how the theatre should be run, he even demanded that box 5 be reserved for his personal use during all performances. The manager obliged, not wanting to create issues with a ghost, and honestly who would?

I wasn't quite sure if I believed it or not, I had seen and heard some odd things in the opera house, but perhaps there was a logical explanation, like Christine was constantly telling me, or maybe I was truly going mad.

I shook my head at the thought as I turned around to go back to the dormitories when I stopped my eyes widening, petrified with fear as I saw a masked man standing in the hall.

He raised a gloved finger to his lips, signaling me to be quiet before walking away.

I blinked a couple of times, my brain trying to comprehend if I had truly seen someone or if it was just my imagination.

I ran down the hall, turning a corner, and up the stairs, I swung open the door of the dormitories, girls complaining as I did, covering their heads with their pillows.

I looked around the room, seeing that there was nothing unusual, no one was there that wasn't supposed to be.

I took a deep breath, about to decide that it was only my imagination when my eyes landed on Christine's bed which was empty.

I rushed over to the bed, pulling up the covers as if she might be hiding underneath them, which I knew was ridiculous.

I could feel panic seize my heart, I had to tell someone she could've been kidnapped by that man I saw. All sorts of horrifying situations buzzed in my mind as I rushed out of the room, running until I ran into Madame Giry.

She looked at me, her eyebrow raised.

"What do you think you're doing running the halls this late at night?"

"Madame, it's Christine she's gone, I think someone might've taken her!" I exclaimed as panic rose in my tone.

"Celeste, please calm down, Christine is perfectly fine, I assure you she's perfectly all right," She told me as she placed a hand on my shoulder.

I shook my head, not believing that she was going to brush this off.

"But I saw-"

"Celeste, go back to the dormitories," Madame Giry interrupted me with a stern expression on her face.

I wanted to say something, anything to make her realize the true danger that Christine might be in, but I knew there was no convincing her.

I sighed, reluctantly turning around to go back to the room, but once again stopped as I heard what sounded like Christine's voice singing.