Hey everyone! I am really excited about writing this story! I have major writers block with my novel and have been thinking about poor Eric lately. Yes I know his name is normally spelled with a k instead of a c, but I like the c better so that is the spelling I am going to use.:)I don't own Phantom of the Opera.

Our poor Eric is being tormented by Christine once again. Months and even years have passed sense the opera popular burned down, but his home is still intact and he is relatively fine other than his mental state. Christine has asked him to write out his history because she wants to understand why he is the way he is, because she has never understood him. Grudgingly he agrees, but then someone very unexpected turns up. What will happen when a new woman steps into the spotlight and read the words meant for his beloved Christine? Oh, there is quite a bit of violence the first few chapters because that is just part of Eric's life. It won't last the entire book I promise! Please R&R!

Prologue: Poor Eric

"Dearest Christine, you have asked that I write out my history so that you may better understand me. Know that I do this with much trepidation and fear. I do not wish to relive my life; there are not many moments of happiness. In fact there is very few, I can count them on two hands and most were with you. But, because I love you and believe you have the right to know after the hell that I have put you through I will attempt to write it out for you. It all started when I was at the young and foolish age of three, I sat on the curb in the streets of France kicking my heals against the cement and running the same thought through my head again and again 'Why will no one look at me? Why does my mother seem frightened of me? Why does dad hate me and call me a devil's child and a monster? What if he is right?'

"All I wanted was someone to love me…but I had yet to feel a tender embrace of even a kind word…It was my third birthday…but no cake or smiling faces greeted me…I gathered my courage and walked inside and over to my mother who was cooking a simple meal. I had just one birthday wish and I feared it was the one thing she would never give to me…I tugged on her skirt softly seeing her stiffen as if she was faced with some disturbing image… 'Mama, I know what I want for my birthday.'

"'it's too late to pick anything up Eric.'She snapped at me wearily and I swallowed feeling it burn my throat.

"'You don't have to pick anything up…I…I just want…one hug…'I whispered looking up at her with pleading eyes 'I see the other mothers give the other kids hugs all the time and…if I could just have one…' I trailed off seeing the look in her eyes when she turned around slowly. "You want what?"she practically screamed at me and I shrank back.

"'A hug…' I whispered eyes scared, why was that such a terrible thing to ask?

"She grabbed my arm harshly 'Mama you're hurting me.'I said her nails digging into my skin.

"She drug me into the bathroom and tossed my mask away. I recoiled from the monster I saw in the mirror and tried to hide behind her skirts but she held me fast in front of the mirror 'I cannot hug the son of the devil, you are a monster and have no right to ask for that or anything. Do you understand me?'

"I was sobbing trying to escape the image, not really understanding what she was saying 'Mama, please, let me go.'I begged her.

"She let me go and brushed past my father as he came in 'What are you blubbering about?'He snapped.

"I wiped my eyes, dad hated it when I showed emotion…well actually he just hated me, I avoided him as often as I could wishing he would change his mind. 'no…nothing.' I gasped holding back my tears as best as a three year old could.

"He hit me 'Shut up. Don't you see how much you scare your mother?'

"'I-I'm sorry. I don-don't mean too.' He hit me again and I couldn't hold back my tears as he beat me. This was common occurrence but I didn't understand why…I was just a little boy. That was the first of many horrid birthdays…I had many nightmares after that day, I didn't realize the monster was me until many years later. I was six and normally I avoided mirrors after what happened what felt like so long ago, but that day I just wanted to see my face, mom had mentioned my face…was that why they hated me? I looked up from washing my face and slowly slid the makeshift half mask from my face. My eyes widened as I saw the monster looking back at me, the monster from my nightmares. The skin on the right side of my face was one massive scar. It was an angry red color. My right eye dropped down not completely covering my eye. Patches of the skin were an ugly purple color and it stuck out in weird ways from my skeleton like frame. The rest of the skin seemed sunken and misshapen. I was the monster I feared every night.

"'No…'my voice didn't sound like my own, no wonder my mother couldn't even look at me…called me a devil…'No!'my voice reverberated around the small room as tears clouded my vision. It was just like father had said before he died. I was the monster…the spawn of the devil. I was…alone...and always would be…

"I couldn't bear to look at my mother after that day, when I did she would only shudder and look away or scream at me. I started to avoid her staying locked in my room in the attic for days on end. I found solace in only one thing. Music. I had found some sheet music in one of the old boxes around my room and began to study it and teach myself. I found myself entranced. It was a song from Frost, and to this day it is my favorite Opera for that very reason. This song became my sanctuary. Whenever I found myself feeling like crying or just merely too alone I would pick up the sheet music and study it. I even drew a makeshift organ on the floor so I could try practicing. I had seen one of mothers suitor play as I hid behind the stairs and had memorized the notes as he explained them to her.

"Months passed and one night…the villagers of our small town hated me, they thought I belonged in a cage far away from their town. It had been a rough year, not enough rain had fallen and there was very little food to go around. I had gone hungry for most the days. But that was not the point, in fact for whatever reason my mother made sure that I got something as often as she could. Perhaps it was the only maternal instinct she felt for me…

"As I was saying, it had been a hard year and they blamed me, believing that I was a devil that needed to be cast out then the rain would come. This night is pure hell to me. I do not know if I can write this night out for you…forgive me if I cannot finish.

"I woke to a scream as a burst of fire lit up my face. Hurriedly I put my ill fitting mask on my face and hurried down the stairs to find mother trembling and pointing up the stairs, toward my room 'he's up there, up there, please. Please don't hurt me!'she begged 'he has been keeping me prisoner here and I have not the power to stop him.'

"The words cut though me like the sharpest knife. Throughout my long ten years in this house I had held onto the hope that one day my mother, the only family I have would love me…but it was not meant to be. Anger took over; I had no control over myself. Although I was only ten amazing strength came to me through this experience. I overpowered them, I nearly killed one of them and perhaps he died of his wounds later, I do not know and I don't much care. The point is I lost control and attacked them.

"I do not remember much of my actions I only remember the moment when they at last bound my hands together and forced a burlap sack over my head with only circles cut out for eyes so I could see and breathe. Why they even offered me that I do not know. Perhaps they feared the devil would come after them for killing me seeing as I was supposedly his son. It is a funny thing fear. It controls us absolutely should we let it, but control it and learn to use it and it can become a very powerful tool.

"They took me away my mother weeping in gratitude for 'freeing her from the monsters spell'. I was taken far away, a three days journey. I had no idea where I was and I didn't care. I fell into a type of…you would call it a trance. I didn't eat or sleep. I just stared in front of me and watched the world disappear behind me. When at last I was let out of the carriage carrying me I was grabbed and yanked along to a man with a cruel face…

"He tossed me into a cell in the middle of the gypsy's camp. I would spend the next three years there, the worst three years of my life. I preformed show after demented show where men laughed and scorned, woman screamed and cried and worst of all children… children ran from my presence. This was when I finally accepted my fate as a monster. I had but one thing to my name, a toy monkey sitting on a music box playing the symbols. I am sure that sounds familiar to you, and it should be. The music box you know of is not the same but a symbol of it. This one was dirty and grimy and barely staying together. I would play it at night so that I would sleep only to be woken hours later for a privet show or a show that had just been called because business was so good.

"I hated life, I hated people and most of all I hated my 'master'. That was the only think I knew him by and the only name I was allowed to call him. The gall of him! He put me behind bars and beat me until I could not see strait and yet he has the gall to call himself a saint! He would often say such things as part of the show. He played the dutiful saint keeping the devils at bay. It makes me sick with anger just thinking about it! He destroyed me. My face was not as bad as you know it to be before I met him, but oh how he found ways to make it worse to boost interest. How I hate him still! That arrogant, ambitious, idiot! He did not see pure genius when it stared him in the face and begged for mercy! No, he refused to use any of my true talent in the act!

"Then one night the ballerina's from the opera came to see the gypsy's. They were enchanted. I could tell from the squeals and cries of delight I heard as they got closer and closer to me. I was not having a good night, I was having flash backs and did not feel mentally stable. When they came to see me 'master' came into my cage and picked up his favorite whip and beat me. I did not have the strength to fight back as he hauled me up…well you do not need to know every detail. He took off my mask and there were the screams of horror from all but one. Standing clutching the bars she looked at me with pity. The pity angered me and soothed me, it makes little sense I know, but all the same it is true. As they were leaving picked up the dropped whip in my hand and ran to my 'master'. I killed him. Strangled him with his own whip.

"I enjoyed it. I felt freedom for the first time in my life without the help of music. The girl had seen, she took my hand and led me to the opera. That woman was the same Antoinette Giry that you know. She saved my life that night. I am eternally grateful to her for it. Without her I would be dead now, dead at the hand of some cruel whip master…" A tear dropped onto the page that I wrote on, it was all too real, I was reliving it again as if I truly was a boy again at the mercy of my mother and then the gypsies. Tears blurred my vision as I wrote the last line of my entry. "Forgive me, I am overcome and weary. I must rest now and try to sleep. I will write again in the morning if I feel well enough. Do not despair, not everything in my life is this way, but it never goes away either. Your loving, Eric'' I wiped my eyes and read though the entry. God…why was she making me do this! It was painful enough to go through it once but write it down! I felt every feeling fresh and anew. Every stroke of the whip, could hear every laugh and every scream. No… I couldn't finish. Already I was pouring out more to these pages than I had ever intended to…but I had to continue. Christine had asked for this, she wanted to understand why I was the way I was.

"It was insulting really she could not accept me as I was but I owed her so much that I had promised I would. So here I was trying to do the impossible. Rewrite my history and hope to God she accepts this and leaves me in peace. Although it had been months sense she choose that fool over me she still liked to visit every once in a while. "Just leave me be! Let me heal!" I yelled to the darkness. But of course I would never be able to turn my Christine away and so just as my wounds are beginning to heal she will come again smiling and bright. She will sing for me and talk with me, try to be my 'friend'. And each time she visits she rips me open once more to feel the pain of her betrayal afresh. Wishing each time she will say she loves me and will stay, but each time she leaves…and now this! I knocked over piles of paper in anger and put my head in my hands.

"Would I always be alone? Just once…could someone show true compassion to me? Love me for me no matter what I look like? But this was foolishness and dreams, and dreams never came true. That is the one thing I learned from my experience with Christine. Dreams and just that, dreams; stars that are so far out of reach I have no chance of reaching them. I stood, I had to get some air…I know it was dangerous but…I had too.

So? What do you all think? Please R&R! I will update again soon! Thanks everyone.: