The Phantom's Daughter

Chapter Twenty

I remember the first time I fell off a horse. It was at Ms. Eleanor’s. We lived next to a small farm that had a couple of carriage horses and a couple of plow horses. I had climbed over the fence when the horse was near (I had been tempting them with treats) and sat on the animal’s back, gripping its mane. Gripping with my legs, the animal shot off either frightened or excited and I barely held on, my bottom slamming against its bony back. The horse made a sharp turn and I went flying off, only to be met with the cold hard dirt. I got whipped upon returning with grass and dirt stains and a torn dress, and Ms. Eleanor refused to feed me that day, making me mend the dress, smacking me when I got a stitch wrong.

The sensation of falling off those rafters felt a lot like falling off that horse I jumped on, except my heart felt like it might just leap out of my throat and land safely back on it. This was a much scarier sensation. I knew that it was a terrifyingly long way down. The feeling of Joseph’s hand slipped from my shoe.

Everything seemed to be going in slow motion.

The rafter board gained air between us.

I was going to die.

Panic filled my lungs.

My vision blurred.

Oh my gosh this was going to hurt.

But then an angel, in the disguise of my Phantom of the Opera, came into view.

His upper half shot from the rafter, his arm striking out…..

….and closed around my wrists.

It seemed like a whole minute passed of me just hanging there, before I was hauled back up, later I would realize that it’s because of the awkward angle Erik had caught me, and as light as I was, my dead weight was hard to pull up.

But he did it anyway.

I had even forgotten to cry out until I heard a nasty thud of Joseph’s body hitting the floor, and the sickening cracks of broken bones and joints being yanked out of place. I gave one short cry, pressing my face into Erik’s stomach, holding onto the fabrics of his clothes with a grip of death as my body shook like a leaf.

Erik didn’t know how to respond as it seemed. “Um.” he uttered and awkwardly patted my back in quick light taps and resting his gloved hand on my head for a brief second. “Come on, little mademoiselle, we’ve got to go,” he said urgently. I couldn't seem to let go. My life had flashed before my eyes and I was stunned. I couldn’t move. “Rita, come on, we’ve got to move!” Erik said with more of a commanding voice. I didn’t budge and clung onto him. Erik swore and hastily looked around him before grabbing my arms and pulling me off him. Hoisting me up, he ran with me on his hip, and I clung onto him, burying my face on his shoulder.

Screams and shouts sounded from below, at the dead body that was just added to the performance. Messieurs Firmin and Andres hollered, imploring everyone to remain in their seats, that it was only an accident.

Erik’s body, twisted, and turned and dodged, with expert grace of knowing where to land his feet. When I heard him speak again, I looked up to see that we were in the back of the stage, a frightened Meg facing him with her arms reached out in front of her. Erik pulled me off him and handed me to Meg, telling her to keep me safe and hidden.

“No!” I cried out, reaching my hand for him. He locked eyes with me for a moment, before disappearing right before my eyes.