I do not own Phantom of the Opera.

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I clung to the shadows of Paris. My hands trembling in tandem with the rumbling of my stomach.

The apples sat piled on the cart shiny and more precious than rubies. I crept slowly forward over the cobblestones on hands and knees, probably scraping my exposed skin. Truly though, I could care less since my head was only full of the emptiness of my stomach.

I finally made my way over to the small apple cart closest to the alley, sucking into the wall of the cart, trying to remain unseen.

My hand tenderly wrapped around the nearest apple, its red skin blushing under my touch. My mouth began to salivate, trying to imagine the crisp, tartness that would envelope my mouth within the near future.

Crack

A scream wrenched its way out of my throat and the apple went flying across the market square, drawing everyone's attention. I fell to my haunches, grasping my hand between my knees.

A shadow fell across me. Slowly I dared to look up. I wished I hadn't.

"You little Rat! How Dare you!" The stout man above me yelled. A stick was held menacingly in his hand. He sneered at me exposing his yellow and black teeth.

The space behind him began to crowd with curious market goers. Their faces soon turned from curious to angry.

Fear started to creep into me. The growing mob must have sensed it because soon they were upon me.

I fled cradling my hand to my chest. Tears whipped past me and I kept my eyes trained on the road ahead of me, trying to keep my mind from the pain emanating from my hand. Damn. One of my fingers must had broken when that man hit me.

Somewhere behind me the sounds of anger bellowed. I forced my legs to take me faster, carrying me around random twists and turns, trying to escape.

I knew somewhere in my mind I was cursing my luck and I knew another part of me was smugly smiling happy that I was being punished. I didn't want to steal, I was raised better than this: running through the dark underbelly of Paris, dirty and unkempt, one hand broken and chased by an angry mob.

A cobble stone quickly sent me stumbling out of my thoughts and face first into the street. Pain enveloped my arm and my throat stung from the scream that wrung its way from out. Tears blurred my vision and the angry sounds from behind me were oozing closer and closer with each passing moment.

Get up; I grounded out in my head. Get up. The sound was closer. Get up. The pain was throbbing through me. Get up. I imagined my bones breaking under the feet of the mob behind me. GET UP! GET UP! GET UP!

I managed to lift my head. The shapes around me were blurred from the tears. I half wondered if I might get dehydrated after awhile from the loss of water.

My broken hand bumped the street and tore another strangled sound of pain from my already raw throat.

The pain cut through my tears, clearing my vision. Before me gaped the most beautiful gutter in all of Paris.

The hope that seized my chest smothered my very breath.

Slowly I crawled forward. Luckily I had starved to the point where my small frame fit.

As soon as I popped through the gutter I felt my body free falling. I counted the time it took for me to hit the bottom.

1- I wrapped my arms around my head. There was no way in hell I was going to die after all of this.

2- I went limp. My father had once told me to do this if by any chance I fell off my horse. Luckily I never had to test out the theory before, but apparently my luck just ran out.

3- I sent a silent prayer that there was nothing sharp to impale on below me.

4- Or water because lord knows I would not be able to swim with this hand.

5-Fear started to tickle my stomach.

6- How long was this drop?

7- Maybe I should have taken my chance with the mob above.

8- Damn

9- Maybe if I go head first I could just die on impact.

10- PAIN

And the rest is silence, was the last thing the poor wretch thought.

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Erik

My hand stilled on the piano. Someone had screamed—had fallen into one of my traps. A sneer began to form on my mouth.

Damn them, coming down here—they deserved it. With that I quickly shook my head of the thought and placed my fingers onto the keys once more.

"…"

I pulled my brows together. The silence was bugging me. Normally by now the lair would be full of anguished cries for help, yet there was nothing.

None of the cranks for my traps were moving. Meaning that none of my traps had been sprung and whoever had screamed was still around.

The conclusion to my torrent of thoughts brought a deep frown to my face. My hand went to my free temple as I tried to rub out the frustration.

A deep sigh escaped me and I turned from my organ to descend to my boat. It would have been much easier for whoever it was to just die in a trap never to see me. It was such a pain to have to kill people personally.

Well some people at least, there are others who I knew deserved it. The image of a dark gypsy man flitted through my mind. A smile tricked to my face. He had given me a look of such surprise as I slipped the small rope around his neck.

But then again others were hard to forget and the guilt was at times hard to crush.

The bumping of my boat as it crested the rocky shore on the other side of the lake brought me from my thoughts. I fluidly removed myself from the boat before meticulously checking each trap.

Finally I got to the last trap under the stairs that descended directly to my lair. As I had already guessed, the water was free of any floating bodies… well any that had just fallen in recently.

I quickly turned away from the fractured skeletons and tattered clothes of the- the fool, that's right Erick the fool that invaded your home. With that thought in mind I quickly turned to the corridor that ran closest to the main street in front of the opera.

I knew that no one would be there since there is a 10 foot drop from the gutter to the corridor floor.

I paused mid stride. It is true that someone being down this way is very unlikely. In fact the person who came in would probably more likely come from the gutters in the back since the drop is only half as high.

Yes it would seem more plausible, besides that is where most of the homeless of Paris had normally snuck in beforehand. Well at least that was until I was old enough to… relocate them.

I turned on my toes heading in the direction of the back corridor. Once again I stopped mid step.

It was still possible that someone came in through these corridors. That and the front corridors were closer to my lair.

I paused teetering from foot to foot. Finally I turned around again to examine the front corridor. Couldn't hurt I thought.

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Read and Review Gag chapter will be posted Monday.