Disclaimer: I do not own the books, musical, or the movie of Phantom of the Opera; they rightfully belong to their soul owners, what a pity.
Author's Note: I'm revising this with my new beta, so yeah. I also want to thank all who have reviewed my stories, you have no idea how much that means. I think I have replied to all, not for sure, but I do reply to reviews with the little reply button, so if you review, I in return will reply and maybe read and review your stories if you have any. But once again thank you to those who have, it means the world to me! Well enough of that onto the story!
Pain.
Agonizing…horrible pain that was all he felt.
The cold wind did not sooth his aching wounds either; he shivered as it brushed against his bare, blood-covered chest. The cold was nothing new to him, so he welcomed it in like always. It let him know he was still alive, and for that he thanked the night's song as it played its sad tune.
He groaned as he tried to lift his head a little to see the black rusty bars that were crusted with blood…his blood. They blocked his only way to freedom from thehorrid place. He placed his eyes on the door, wishing it would open with just a word of hope, or a prayer But no, only man's key could open the blasted cage. Another burst of cold wind came rushing in, bringing him back to the land of the living.
Every inch of his body was on fire, burning with hatred, almost as if death was waiting.
If only he hadn't moved, he wouldn't have disturbed the nasty infections that taunted him as he looked down at his body. Pieces of flesh hung loose painted with his red liquid, as it dripped downwards. Bone was visible, peeking out of his tortured form. Old wounds had reopened causing more infections to indulge to greater lengths. Rivers of blood flowed along his tattered body, washing him of his sins, yet replacing them as a reminder of who he was. His cold fingers hung limply as his body did, obeying the ways of the wind, his feet dangling just above the straw covered cage bottom. He was covered with dried and new blood. The smell was overwhelming and powerful; he was surprised he had not yet fell unconscious because of it. If only he could. Then he would be free for a moments breath, then return to reality. But fate was being cruel.
He was stiff and to move was a temptation, but he couldn't, not without disturbing his reason for trying to stay still and calm. The angry wounds mocked him as his eyes made contact with them yet again while he watched as the red liquid flowed to freedom to the ground below.
His eyes filled with tears as he triedin vain to push the events that had happened earlier that day away But no matter how hard he fought, they always somehow managed to break through the barriers of his mind.But he was saved from the past for a blind moment, as yet another cold rush of wind made itself known to him. His eyes snapped open and he sought for his comfort-- his sack, his shield, his mask. He realized his face was bare,and his one comfort of hiding his curse from the cruel world lay at his shackled feet in the bloody straw. He had the sudden urge to cover his monstrous, disgusting disfigurement, but couldn't for his arms and legs were chained and bound to the center of the barred cage they had forced him in. So he hid his face in the crook of his shoulder as well as he could, not caring of the discomfort he felt. He had no needed to hide, to be protected from the evil that lay outside just a couple of yards away.
He let out a distraught cry as his numb arms dangled high above his head, forcing him to arch his back and tear open the wounds that had been healing for a couple of days ago. He gave up and just hung there, not caring as blood seeped from the infections on his back he just didn't care anymore. He was nothing but a freak for these cruel, merciless, greedy beings who called themselves humans. He was nothing but a way to gain money for them. He was their freak showand forever would be.
He remembered how every day of his life the gypsies gained their share of greed as they beat upon his broken form in front of thecrowds that drew near enough to watch, but remained far enough awayso as not to be in harm's pathor to have blood stain their precious clothing. They laughed at himand poked his bleeding form with anything sharp they could find, if only to bring him more pain, for it was their pleasure.
Once his so called master threw him out into the crowd and laughed while watching as they brought on more wounds to his already tortured body. Kicking, punching, hitting, spitting, and any other harm that they could do to his beaten down form, they did. His pain was their laugher.
He could no longer take it and, just as his eyes had shut, thought that his sweet prayers had answered him that death was waiting there on the top of those stairsleading to heaven or hell ,holding out his hands for him to take. But before he could, he had been jolted back into the world of the livingas his wounds told him in great agony that he was covered in his own blood. Sores had been scattered everywhere and the cold wind did not help that fact much. The memory came back, as it finished its agonizing story. He could do nothing as it played once more.
As his master waited for the crowd to disperse away, he finally came and roughly picked him up by the hair, and dragged him back to his home….the cage.
Laughing with his sick greed, he not-so-tenderlychained him back into his standing position atthe center of the cage, not caring to treat his wounds, which he never did. So the pain stayed and mocked him at any movement he made. No matter how hard he tried to be still and prevent making his infections angrier, he just bore the pain, not caring that fire was burning in them, not caring for the blood that ran over his scarred body, not caring for now that his heart had turned cold with ice making the walls of hatred from years before build a stronger barrier than ever. He would never give his heart out to anyone again. How foolish he had been to think his mother had ever cared or even loved him when the witch only had plans to sell him to these wretched people. A cruel mother and a dead father he never knew-- the family he never had.Nowhe was a freak for the rest of his bounded and scarred life forever.
He never cried. But tonight he had to-- but only for tonight. Tomorrow there would be no more tears to cry. He would go through with the cruel beatings and laughteras he had every day for the past 10 years that he had beenenslaved to these merciless people. Nothing ever changed, so he no longer hoped.
Not once had he been shown any sort of kindness or any of the such? He had always wondered and dreamt what it felt like to be loved, to be held tenderly by tight hands that never let the darkness take over and would never let him be alone for the rest of his days as he was every night. Loneliness always made itself at home in his heart and soul, happy to make him feel worse than he already was. In a sense 'Loneliness' had somehow become his only true friend.
He took a breath as the memory faded away, yet it stilltaunted him that it would be back as another round was to happen tomorrow. He just hoped his wounds could heal before more torture would be placed upon his scarred and bloody form.
He winced again as his body reminded him,once more, of his current position. Brushing it off, he thought of how he remembered a friend of hisfrom before he was sold to these people, that anytime he was in a place or situation that did not bring him happiness, he could pray for an Angel to come and protect him.
He snorted at the thought. So far nothing had happened. He was still chained and forced to over come the pain as the whip met his body in blood calling lust. Of course he had never prayed. What good would it do to start now? He knew not to believe such things, for his past 10 years, nothing good had ever been done to him, nothing whatsoever.
He laughed as he realized there was really no reason to live. He closed his eyes once more and thought of a plan that would end his life. It would be painful, but maybe before he went through with it, he would pray once and see what happened afterwards. He had no hopesthat it would work, so he didn't get high on hope. Faith had long ago left him; they parted ways years and years ago when he had earned his first whip lashes.
He sighed and bowed his head down and silently mumbled a couple of words in prayer. He breathed and opened his eyes.
He heard a sound like someone was whispering. It came again and for one moment, he thought he saw clothing at the bottom outside of his cage. He looked up and his eyes widen to the size of saucers. His breathing ceased.
A pair of gentle brown eyes gazed into his.
Before he could fall to the hands of unconsciousness, he saw those eyes filled with something he had longed to see...compassion.
Well maybe there were such things called Angels that were not just made up of myths. Maybe this Angel would be his end or the beginning of a new life. But whatever the case this angel had come--and only for him. He had yet to find out what meaning he had in life, but he was about to know within the next coming of dawn.
She looked up at the sleeping man and smiled. He would know what it was like to be loved and he would be shown compassion.As she took one last look behind her she walked away and left him to sleep--promising himwithout words that she would come back--but knowing one thing above all--
Her daughter would be his salvation.
Well there's the prologue! Hoped you guys enjoyed it! So please review, I would very much appreciate it! Thank you!
God Bless
Alaina Ruth