Thanks for taking the time to read my story, I hope it pleases you.

DISCLAIMER- I own none of it… Except the plot of course

The thumping sound of footsteps along the dusty path alerts me….

They are coming.

I awaken from my daze I have kept myself in all day. Just as my eyes open and adjust the orange glow of light, there is a loud clang of wood on metal.

I do not flinch, for I have grown used to the awakening routine of my tormentor banging a stick on the bars of the cage.

Once again the sound rings off, causing the metal bars surrounding me to vibrate.

"Show time, demon, get up!" a voice calls, and shortly following it is a foot connecting with my rib cage.

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, trying to bite back any sound of pain emitting from me, but a small grunt still manages to escape. Even though I cannot see him, I still sense his smile and his satisfaction as he kicks me again.

I growl in result of this and, as best as I could being as how my ankles were chained together, shuffle away from the edge of the cage so he was not within reaching distance.

The sounds of nervous voices reach my ears as well as the familiar,

"Come! Come inside and see the Devil's Child!"

I let my gaze fall to the ground, not making any eye contact with anyone; shame and humiliation overwhelming me.

With chained wrists, I try to cover my face; no one deserved to look upon such horrors, but the all too familiar sound of the cage door being open alerts me that my concealment will not last much longer.

I hunch my shoulders bracing myself for what I knew was to come.

Clammy, calloused hands deathly grip my wrists, trying to pry my arms from my face.

I try to fight him, but a weak and defeated man of twenty-one cannot hold off a strong and confidant one of forty-three for very long.

With one final tug, he has finally managed to pry my arms away, revealing my distortion to the world.

I am met with shrieks of fear, laughter and the sound of many stumbling away, as if my deformity were a plague that would corrupt them. I cannot help but snort despite myself…people really were hopeless and blind.

Finally bringing myself to do so, I look up to the jeering faces. Even though I gave up hope a long time ago, I still wished to be able to find a kind face, so that I could be filled with hope that there was at least one pure soul in this world. There is none. The orange glow of flames on torches illuminate their faces, making them all distorted in my eyes.

They looked to me as if they were the dancing flames in Hell. The flames that sheltered Satan's spawn. The Devil's Child.

I let out a roar of pain as something leather unexpectedly connects with my back, pulling some of my flesh off with it. My only answer is more screams and laughter.

I grind my teeth as the whip is laid across my back again, the sound of my flesh being torn off reaching my ears.

Trying to resist the urge to vomit as I feel my own blood spill over my back, I try to cover my face with my hands again, but I gasp as I feel the whip snap around my wrists and pull them away from my face once again.

There are once more screams and shrieks and finally I have had enough.

With an angry growl of rage, I unexpectedly round on my tormentor and attempt to cause him as much pain as possible.

I bang my chained wrists against his face and neck, digging my fingernails into any place open skin I could reach.

Cringing as I could taste his own sweat and blood in my mouth, I still proceeded to beat him, the yelling an screams of my "audience" becoming inaudible, for I could hear, all I wished to hear, were my tormentor's screams and yells of absolute pain.

But, soon my advantage of surprise finally faded and my tormentor recovered from his shock.

With an unearthly yell of absolute pure loathing, he manages to throw me off, sending me staggering backwards, slipping on my own blood on the floor and bounded ankles along the way, into the opposite cage wall.

There are gasps and shrieks as people at that end outside the cage jump away from me, but I pay them no heed.

I tasted dirt and blood and the dust from the "disturbance" blinded me. I could only hear.

Barely having any time to recover, I felt the whip upon me once again, but the strikes were harder and more brutal than ever before. That was the moment I understood:

He was meaning to kill me.

Soon, my tormentor's foot joined in the strikes, kicking my face and causing my head to hit against the metal bars behind me, the sound of fast approaching death ringing in my ears.

I could sense people leaving, running far away from this gruesome display, I wouldn't blame them and I deeply wanted to join them.

There were still some people there however, but their screaming, cursing, yelling, and laughter grew fainter.

Then a new voice seemed to pierce through the mass of others. A voice that I would never forget. A voice that was so pure, so sweet…A voice that reminded me very much of an angel

"Stop!"

It might have been that that command had never been heard before, or perhaps the sound of something so innocent sounding so fierce, but almost as soon as that one word was mustered, the blows from my tormentor ceased.

"Please, stop," the voice cried again, "You're hurting him!"

I couldn't help but snort at how naïve that sounded.

Of course, my dear, what do you think he is intending to do…?

Immediately, I feel guilt consume me. Here someone was finally trying to cease this act of injustice and all I could do was snort at them.

Forgive me.

I was startled to hear the voice of my tormentor, his voice trickling with bitter honey.

"Why, I do believe I am…how silly of me," I growled at his sarcasm, but he ignored it and kept speaking, "Mademoiselle, it is my duty to teach this repulsive demon his place, but if it causes you discomfort, then perhaps you should leave."

The angel's voice replied, "No! If I do, you will only continue hurting him!"

The crowd around my tormentor and me were muttering amongst themselves, whether they were agreeing with my savior or just impatiently waiting for the "show" to continue, I did not know, nor did I care.

I tried to pick myself up and attack my tormentor while he was unaware, but I found I was too weak to do so, and I emitted a sigh of defeat.

Suddenly there was a chime somewhere, a clock perhaps; I listened intently as it chimed nine times and my sigh of defeat turned to relief.

9:00pm………..End of Show

I was safe, I had survived another day.

I heard my tormentor give his own sigh.

"The show is over! Now get out of here, or perhaps the Devil's Child will plague you and your children!"

The crowd did not need telling twice, they quickly departed, murmuring excitedly. My vision slowly began to come back and I was able to make out shapes meshing and melding together as they left my tent.

The sound of boots thudding against the dirt alerted me that my tormentor was about to leave. I was taken off guard when I felt one of his boots connect with my face, causing my nose to burst and blood to come spewing out of both nostrils.

Gasping in pain, I swung my hands up to my face, trying to stop the blood flow. In doing this, it left my stomach an easy target and I only just realized this when I felt a blow right in my abdomen.

As I doubled over in pain, on my knees and grinding my teeth, I heard his chuckling and his wicked voice sneering to me,

"Mark my words, demon, you would be burning in the pits of Hell right now had it not been for that little wench, I will make sure that is where you will be one of these days…"

With that, he left me to wallow in my own kind of Hell, echoing behind him as he limped away, "one of these days…"

When I was completely sure I was alone, I turned over and vomited.

My tears and blood mingling together with the waste I had thrown up, creating my own poison of despair.

I sighed and tried to shuffle back into the far corner in the shadows, but I could barely move so instead, I just tried to adjust my nose into place. I clenched my teeth as it went back with a crack. I then tried to go back into my corner once again, this time being able to gradually move.

"Wait…"

My heart skipped a beat at the soft command and I found myself obeying without even being able to control myself.

Slowly, I turned my gaze to the left, able to make out a small and slender shape just a few inches away from me; I could reach out and touch the shape through the bars if I had wanted to.

As my vision came into better focus, I was able to tell it was a little girl who was looking down at me intently.

On instinct, I quickly reached up to cover my face, trying to hide my distortion from her innocent eyes.

I gasped aloud when I felt her tiny, soft hand on my bare shoulder. I ducked my head in humiliation to be seen and touched in this kind of state.

My skin tingled beneath her hand as she gently guided my arm away from my face, and unable to control myself once again, I obeyed the gentle pressure.

How could she do that without screaming as all the others do?

As soon as I was exposed, I quickly closed my eyes not wanting to see her expression as she looked upon my broken and bloody face, though I am sure she had already seen it.

My eyes shot open, however, when I felt that same precious little hand come to rest on the ragged and destroyed mess on the right side of my face. The feeling was so new, so pure to me, I couldn't help but slightly lean into the touch.

The moment I realized what I was doing, I stopped, but her hand did not leave my face. As much as I hated for something so pure to touch something so…disgusting, I still couldn't help but notice how…nice… it felt.

Hesitantly, I finally looked up into her eyes and I immediately found myself falling into their bottomless depths. They were a soft, gentle blue…like the sky after a tender rain fall.

And her chocolate hair, cascaded around her little head in fair ringlets…so lovely. The sound of her voice brought me back down to earth,

"Does it hurt…?"

She asked me, her hand gently pressing my cheek, so that I would know what she was asking about.

Ah, my distortion, she wanted to know if my distortion hurt me…Bless her….

I looked deeply into her eyes again and gave a small, cautious smile,

"Sometimes," I replied hoarsely, thinking about the shrieks of fear from those who laid eyes on it. That was what hurt more than the distortion itself.

The girl seemed to sense this and before I could stop her, I felt her hand leave my cheek and rip the hem of her skirt, creating a sort of handkerchief.

"What about this side?" she asked me as she started to wipe the drying blood from the left side of my face.

Suddenly I saw the expression on her sweet and beautiful face change into a small smile and her cheeks flush a little as she continued cleaning the blood away.

"Handsome…" She whispered, her blush deepening.

With just that single word spoken to me, I felt tears leak out of both of my eyes, streaming down my cheeks and onto the dirt at my knees.

I felt that same hand wipe away my tears, while cooing softly to me.

"H-how can you do this?" I sobbed quietly, marveling at how her eyes held no fear as she gazed upon me.

"Pardon?" she asked me, confusion gracing her features.

"How can you look at me…look at this," I emphasized by pointing a finger to my face, "And not cringe in fear as everyone else does?"

The little girl looked at me a long time, her brow furrowed in thought.

Finally she spoke, her voice so sweet, so innocent; I could listen to it all day.

"I don't know…" she answered truthfully, "Before my mummy died, she told me it doesn't matter what's on the outside, it's what is inside, she also told me that all God's creatures are beautiful in their own way…"

I almost snorted at her reference towards the Lord, but I did not interrupt, I continued listening and when she had finished, I felt tears come to my eyes again.

She truly was an angel, but was she my angel? Was she my Guardian Angel?

"My name is Christine," she said suddenly "Christine Daaé."

Christine, what a lovely name.

I was about to tell her my name was Erik, but decided against it, I didn't deserve to share my name with an angel.

"Hello Christine Daaé, it is a pleasure to meet you," I said, taking her hand from my cheek and gently kissing her knuckles.

I heard her giggle and I couldn't help but smile slightly.

"The pleasure is all mine, Monsieur," Christine replied, curtsying gracefully.

At this, I found myself laughing…I had not laughed in so long, it felt so new.

My laughing suddenly turned into a fit of coughing and I turned away so that I would not disgust her anymore than I probably already had.

When I turned back to her, I heard her fiddling with something around her shoulder.

Before I could blink again, she had thrust something through the bars and into my hands. As my sight focused on it, I realized it was a hip flask.

"You must be dying of thirst, you poor thing… drink," Christine whispered almost frantically.

I nodded and eagerly opened the flask, and allowed some of the water to flow into my dry and cracked mouth. After swishing the liquid around, I turned away from the little girl and emptied onto the dirt, rinsing the acid taste of blood and vomit from my mouth.

With that task done, I then began to drink. I drank quickly almost frantically, eager to fulfill my thirst.

Once the flask was empty, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before slowly giving the flask back to Christine, avoiding her gaze for I was once again ashamed to have displayed such grotesque manners in front of her young eyes.

The girl had to be not a day older than seven. She was so young…and yet so wise.

"Thank you…." I whisper to the ground.

Finally I brought myself to look to her. Christine smiled and reached through the bars, taking my calloused hand into her smooth and soft one. I hesitantly returned the smile, gently squeezing her hand.

I was about to ask her why someone as young and innocent as her was here in a place such as this, but our moment was ruined by a gruff and gravely voice.

"I will check to see if the Wretch is still alive…If not get the rubble pile ready..."

Christine gasped, fear in her eyes. Fear for me? Yes! It was fear for me…no one had ever been scared for my safety before….

I squeeze her hand once again.

"Don't worry about me, Christine…I will be fine," I told her reassuringly, but I wasn't entirely sure myself, "You better go…"

Christine nodded and let go of my hand.

"I'll come back tomorrow…I promise…" She whispered before disappearing into the darkness and out of sight.

A breeze from the rear of the tent told me she had gone out the back way of the tent and I sighed with relief.

I then slinked back into the safety of my own darkness, just as the figure of my tormentor emerged.

Closing my eyes, I pretended to be asleep. I could sense his tall body towering over mine as I lay in my little gathering of hay.

My tormentor snorted and I felt him spit at my feet, "You were lucky today, demon…" he whispered before turning around and leaving me alone.

I opened my eyes and stared up at the moon through an opening at the top if the tent, replaying what had recently happened in my mind.

Christine had shed some light into what seemed to be my eternal darkness and I now had something to live for…something to look forward to.

I rolled over on my other side and smiled softly, finally realizing that there was some kindness in this world after all….

A/N The reasons as to why Erik is living in such conditions will be revealed later as the story progresses, I honestly have no idea how long it shall be.