Disclaimer: I own nothing of Phantom of the Opera
Prologue
The gun slipped from my fingers. Its weight was too much for the muscles to bear. It must have hit the cold concrete ground, but I did not hear it. I heard nothing except the wailing sirens and muffled voices of the men in blue uniforms.
It was over.
The man who had caused it all was lying in a pool of his own blood. His face was turned to me, his eyes opened, staring at me. The black gun was still firmly held in his hand, the bullet hidden in the darkness of the barrel, waiting to attack.
"It's over," I whispered.
I looked up at the sky, at the heavens. The moon was sickle shaped, but it lit the sky brighter then the sun ever could. A myriad of stars hung in the dark blue carpet, twinkling like fireflies. Not one cloud was in sight.
It was perfect.
A smile crept on my lips at the sight of the sky. I had not looked up since the ordeal began three years ago. I could not remember the last time I smiled. In all my years, I cannot remember being happier than in those few minutes I spend alone under the night sky.
"Freeze!" screamed a man behind me.
His gun was drawn, aimed at my face. Ten other men followed behind him, each ready to pull the trigger, to end my life. All I could do was smile. Smile and exhale in satisfaction.
It was over.