A/N: Once again I start yet another phic. Overactive imagination can be a pain. Thankfully, this is should be very good and lots of fun. So, read, enjoy, and PLEASE comment. Even stuff like; "Erik wouldn't do that." But please don't tell me how horrible this is. HELPFUL critisism is weclomed. Oh, one more thing, I don't-
Dhaos: "She's an obsessed phan who whishes she owns The Phantom of the Opera but doesn't so she writes fan fiction instead."
...Thanks.
Dhaos: "No problem."
All my life I believed that God hated me, laughed at me. Even now I am sure he is still laughing. Even now, as I lay here dying.
I had hoped that once I died it would give me peace. Maybe not peace, but at least I would be away from this world that hates and fears me. Oh to rest for all eternity. To go to heaven... No. I am not fit for heaven. No doubt that once I reach it's gates the gate keeper will turn me away. It does not matter. For even hell must be better than this wretched place.
"Oh Christine. What I would give to hear your voice one... last... time."
Erik's "Afterlife"
by Sailor Phantom
It seemed like only a moment had passed since I began my eternal sleep when I heard a voice call me. "Erik." Of course! It must be Christine. Who else would journey to find me. She must be here to return the ring. She must of heard of my death. Oh how long has it been since I have heard her voice?
"Erik." Oh what a joy it is to hear your voice. Oh what a greater joy it must be if I could see your face. To open my eyes and- What's this? I can feel? A feeling that I had already forgotten. My fingers, my hands, my arms. Oh my toes, my feet, my legs.
Everything is slowly coming back to me. Does God finally have some mercy for me? To let me see my dear Christine once more? I can feel, I can move but, I can not seem to breathe. Of course. This is only for a moment. I am dead. Truly dead. Only to wake from my sleep for this one moment to see my beloved Christine. Oh Christine.
"Erik." Her voice. Her voice has changed. Oh how long it must have been. My dear, dear Christine. Shall I open my eyes now? Dare I? Only to see my lovely Christine's face once more? Yes. I shall. I dare. I wake for you, my sweet, innocent Christine.
Finally I open my eyes expecting to see my angel before me. Yet, not only is Christine gone, but my surroundings have changed. I am no longer in the Paris Opera house, but in a strange room with white walls and pictures of large cats and people in strange costumes. There is a bed with a light brown comforter and pillow with silhouettes of more large cats decorating it. In front of me is what I believe to be a closet filled with clothes I had never seen before. There is a large black box with glass covering the front and it sits on top of a white cabinet with an opening under the drawer and a small thin black box. On the other side of me is a white dresser with small animals and a vase of dried up roses and fake flowers. There is also a window with light brown curtains and black spots.
As I took in my surroundings I heard a voice behind me. The same voice that had woken me from my slumber. I turn around to see a young woman, a teenager, but she is dressed in pants and a shirt, a strange shirt. Her hair by far is the strangest, a light brown, almost dirty blonde, with blonde stripes, stripes, two in the front and two in the back. What woman in their right mind would find a way to have their hair like that?!
This girl was not my Christine. Yet some how she had woken me from my sleep. She stared at me in a way that I had never seen before and hope never to experience again. It was almost like she was... excited. Now I was certain I was indeed in hell.