This fiction is set in modern times.

Authors Note: I have not read any of the books, only seen the play and movie that was released in 2004, I have desperatly trying to get a copy of one of the books ... So just a warning, this is based on what I've seen of the phantom so far.

Disclaimer: I do not own the phantom of the opera... Don't sue:)

He made me promise to sing everyday. To train my voice, to not forget.

In return he promised to watch over me.

I thought I was dreaming, a beautiful dream...

He came again, this time I was wide awake and sitting at my desk.

A gloved hand appeared on my shoulder, another on the side of my face, turning my head up slightly, even still, I could not see him.

"You have not been practising" He said, his voice like a lullabye... I was in a haze, afraid to move.

"I did not have time" I stuttered... and I felt... guilty.. guilty that I had not done as was asked of me.

I could hear the smile in his voice when he said "Then perhaps you need to make time my dear"

I nodded. I felt a warm breath on my neck, and I shivered.

"Good"

Then he was gone. It was like someone had suddenly taken the warmth from me and I snapped my head around, but he was gone.

I smiled and touched my cheek. I would practise, everyday, like I promised. He would not be disappointed in me again.

I swore it.

He hasn't come. I sang – sang as he asked me.

Yet he hasn't come. I stare out my window but still nothing.

He said he would watch out for me.

He lied.

He came back. He was angry. Angry at me. I stopped singing.

He grabbed me from behind roughly and hissed in my ear "You have not kept your promise"

He spun me around to face him, for the first time since he'd come to me.

I saw the white mask first, and the fire burning in his eyes. He was angry, very angry.

It couldn't have been just because I stopped singing, and I wondered what had caused him to be so frustrated.

I couldn't answer him and instead stared in horror. For the first time ever, I actually feared for my life…

"Why did you disobey me?" He said in a snarl. I stepped back trying to pull myself away. I knew there'd be red marks from where his fingers had dug into my skin.

It was all I could do not to cry out he was holding me so tightly.

He glared, his eyes smoldering with rage, he stepped forward and pinned me to the wall.

"Do you fear me?"

I turned my eyes away from his, and he turned my face forcefully to look at him. "Do you dare turn away from me"

I shook my head and bit my lip.

He turned away from me and I slumped against the wall, my heart racing. He lifted my chair and with a cry hauled it across the room, crashing it into the wall.

I jumped and was thankful that my parents were not at home.

"You will do as I have asked" He said, and I knew that he wasn't angry at me, I was just an outlet for his rage.

I sobbed and fell to the floor. I started to sing softly "Child of the wilderness" I began.

He stopped and turned to face me, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He knelt beside me and wiped away my tears. "I am sorry" I said.

It was so weird. I'd changed he'd come to me that night.

I no longer spoke or acted the way I'd used to, Instead I'd adopted his strange way of speaking… proper and no slang.

I took in what he looked like, now that my fear had subsided slightly.

He was wearing black, a black and gold lined cloak hanging over his shoulder. I hadn't noticed that he wasn't wearing gloves.

I brought myself to my feet.

He rested his hand on my cheek and I closed my eyes, as I was want to do, whenever he was close to me. When I opened them again he was gone.

I breathed out a sigh of relief. He could have killed me. I saw my chair at it's odd angle against the wall. There was a dent, and I knew my parents were not going to be happy…

My parents were furious, of course I had to take the blame. I couldn't very well explain to them his presence, but I was excited to be able to tell my friends come the return of school.

I needed to tell somebody.

They laughed. They laughed so much they cried. "You're crazy" I smiled and shook it off as a big joke. I mean seriously, a man in a mask threatening me and teaching me to sing? Throughout the rest of the day, I thought about it.

The more I thought about it, the more insane it sounded.

He came at night – I thought – I could have been dreaming. The dent in the door… I was prone to sleepwalk. That was it. Still… when I got home that afternoon.. I still practiced…

For the next three days, I convinced myself that I was just having very vivid dreams. It was highly unlikely to be anything more.

My stomach dropped to my knees when I changed that night. On my shoulders were dark bruises. I ran my fingers over them and winced. Pain… dreams didn't make bruises.

I started to panic. He was real… He was real… Or was he? I didn't know what to think. I needed time to think, to sort out everything. But he didn't give me time. He appeared behind me and sang into my ear. A soft, haunting song. I knew that I wasn't dreaming.

My subconscious could not come up with a song that beautiful, not the one I was hearing now.

I closed my eyes and wondered how a song could cause such bliss. I decided then and there that he was real. "Where do you go?" I questioned suddenly. He smiled "such curiosity"

He tsk'd, " It's almost past midnight…" Briefly I wondered where the time had gone, but then blurted out "Take me with you"

He paused by my door, touching the frame and glancing over his shoulder at me. "Perhaps"

That one little word filled me with hope and I felt extremely excited and suddenly restless.

Later that night, I stumbled into bed and tried to force myself to sleep. But it wouldn't come.

To think that I might go with him, to see where it was he went, to be invited into his home. I was giddy and tried to scold myself for being so silly but I started laughing out loud. I calmed down after a while, and lay there staring at the ceiling and humming a melody.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

My parents were worried. I wasn't sleeping well at night, and was loosing concentration at school and falling behind in my grades.

I needed sleep that was apparent. Yet I didn't want to miss him when he came. He came at odd hours, and some nights he didn't come at all and I would spend those nights singing. Singing the haunted and beautiful songs he had taught me.

But even he told me I needed to rest. "It is not good for your voice, angel" I'd nodded enraptured with the sound of voice.

"What is your name? tell me your name and promise to wake me when you come" I begged, a smile on my face.

He'd pressed a kiss onto the back of my hand, and slipped out the door, whispering as he went. "Erik"

The name rolled around my mind, his face in my dreams that night.

I was lying in my bed, the covers pulled tightly around my neck, the moonlight streaming in through my window. It was all too eerie. I was not awake, yet not asleep. My eyes half open, I heard a footstep.

Suddenly I was completely awake, yet I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt a presence beside me, then a weight on the edge of the bed. I opened my eyes partly and thought I saw him smile.

He rose from my bed and stood up "It will take more then that to fool me. I am aware that you are awake" I smiled and sat up suddenly.

I blinked then blushed, I had completely forgotten I was only in my underwear.

I started to pull up the covers... "Wait" his voice was strong and commanding.

My heart stopped, and he was at my side in two steps. I felt uneasy.

He pressed his fingers against my shoulder, inspecting the marks. I took in a sharp breath.

I couldn't quite figure out if it was pain, or the fact that he was touching me.

"Who did this" He asked moving to the other shoulder.

I didn't need to answer, realization dawned in his eyes and he pulled back quickly.

I saw something else flash in his eyes, Pain? Sadness? I couldn't tell.

He left then, without a word.

I fell back on my bed, finally able to breath again.

He was gone for two weeks, I didn't stop singing though. I slept through the night, my dreams of him noticeably absent. At school my friends were distant, I hadn't noticed before but they avoided me. I sat alone. No one spoke to me. Why hadn't I noticed?

Why? Because I didn't care then…

My teachers were shocked by the effort I put in…I was desperate to ignore the pain in my chest, anything that took my mind of him. I missed him.

My parents were also surprised.. I actually left my room. Slowly my old life seeped back in and the half hour practice I usually put in, shrunk to 10 minutes.

I'd not forgotten him, but his memory was fading, odd as it were. I'd even lost the properness about me. I slouched; used slang, yet something seemed missing. Part of me was happy that I had my life back, but the other part missed the night.

I did wonder were he'd gone. Why he stopped visiting me… If it had something to do with the bruises which were long gone. I didn't think about him all that much… It was almost painful.

Tuesday

I will always remember Tuesday. It was the day Erik returned to me – became more real then ever before. And more dangerous.

It'd started like any normal day of school. I'd gone to my first class, and at the first break had gone to the old shed to eat my lunch, when two guys approached me.

To cut a long story short, they were not happy with me.

The only noticeable bruising was on my face. My eye to be exact/ I won't go into detail about what they did, but I never want it to happen again.

The swelling in my eye died down after an hour or so, still when I got home, I snuck into my room, shouting out that I was taking a nap, not wanting to explain what had happened.

I spent my afternoon Three-thirty 'til five-thirty in pain, and try as I might to ignore it, it wouldn't let up. I took two asprin and lay down for a moment. The moment turned into two hours and when I got up to have some more asprin I found a note tucked under my door.

My parents and siblings had gone out to dinner, and there were some leftovers in the fridge if I got hungry.

I glanced in the mirror my eye was a horrible purple blue colour.

I slipped back into sleep rather easily after that. The pain had become an ache.

I don't know how he found out – or when he came. But I woke up with him beside me, he was starring.

I went to sit up but a sharp pain in my stomach prevented that.

He sat unmoving.

I forced myself up slowly this time, mindful of the bruises on my stomach.

I'd been getting a lot of bruises lately, and frankly I was tired of it.

I lurched forward, nearly throwing up, Erik caught me and eased me back onto my pillow.

I smiled at him "I missed you" I managed.

I sounded pathetic to my own ears. He didn't answer. He moved and I flinched, afraid that he'd hurt me. They had. What if that's what he was going to do? I panicked… He paused, studying me cautiously, and by the expression on his face… I could tell he understood.

He had a cloth in his hands, and a bowl of warm water. I was going to mention ice packs, but I couldn't be bothered.

He pressed it to my eye, gently. It felt nice. In fact, having him there was nice, having him take care of me. The perfect damsel in distress. I held back a laugh at that… I always teased and complained about the pathetic sobbing princesses in movies… and here I was, the perfect example.

He moved his hand to my stomach, and I brought my knees up in a flash, fear in my eyes.

I should trust him. I wanted to trust him. But I couldn't.

Wordlessly he lowered my knees. I turned my face away. I didn't want to see his reaction.

I felt the fabric being lifted and then his fingers skimming the surface. I let a cry escape my lips then, my skin was burning.

He withdrew his hand and replaced it with another cloth.

I still couldn't bring myself to face him.

The finger marks on my hips, bruises that spread across. Well, He shouldn't stare he'd hurt me too.

That's what people did. I wasn't from an abusive family – but I'd seen my fair share of pain. That boy in primary school, my first boyfriend, my best friends brother, Erik – the one that hurt the most.

And now those guys were just another set of names to add to the list.

Erik had left the cloth there and it was starting to cool, sticking to my skin.

I hoped he wouldn't say anything about the scabs on my hips. I was pretty sure they weren't that bad…. Guys don't have long finger nails. I heard a catch in his breath. It scared me.

He was always so calm, so in control, never being affected by emotion – except maybe anger.

He turned me to the side, his fingers brushing past the marks.

Damn… I gasped, they hurt more then I'd been expecting. Then he spoke. His voice was husky, "Who"

I turned back to face him, forcing my eyes to meet his. They were unreadable. I reached out and this time, put my hand on his face "It doesn't matter. What's done is done" I rasped, trying not to show any more weakness.

Erik pursed his lips together. I breathed in deeply and cast my glance to the ceiling. Ready to forget. But I knew that when I woke up, all the memories would still be there.

I could hear their cruel laughter and I shuddered. Erik stayed with me, he didn't even flinch when the car door slammed and my family came home. My door was closed, not locked and I didn't have any real good excuses about him being there.

He didn't leave me – didn't leave me for the darkness and memories to take me. I was grateful for that. I fell asleep emotionally and physically drained, with Erik holding my hand.

When I awoke the next morning he was gone. Even though he's never stayed until morning before, I was disappointed. I was afraid to be left alone.

I managed to sneak out of the house, a scarf wrapped round my neck, and a very large amount of foundation covering my eye.

When I got to school it was in an uproar. Police were everywhere, yellow tape blocking off an area of the school. Students were wailing, and being ushered away from the crime scene.

I was pulled in with the crowd, but before they got me out of the way I saw what it was they were hiding.

I recognized the face immediately. In fact, just yesterday, that very same face had been laughing and teasing me, that very same face which said things to me, I'd never repeat in my entire lifetime.

He was hanging by a rope.

His eyes were red and vacant.

I nearly fainted, I knew exactly who had done this.

I'd never hyperventilated in my life, but I certainly was now. A teacher helped me away from the scene, and asked me a million questions, but I couldn't really answer. All that was running through my head was… Why…. Could he have done this…?

Another worried face appeared beside mine. It was his best friend. The one who'd stood by and watched while his friend raped me.

He stared at me, and then screamed.

The teachers rushed over and pulled him away from the group. I snuck up behind them trying to hear what he was saying.

" See – yesterday………. Did some stuff to a girl…….. beat her up…" I only caught bits and pieces, but I was relieved to know he wasn't mentioning any names.

I was still in shock, could hardly breath and basically just stood there watching him being interviewed by the police.

They came to the conclusion that he had felt guilty about the rape and killed himself. Try as they might they couldn't get 'the girls' name from him.

I knew that everyone would be questioned.

But I had to get out of here. My parents were at work, they were hardly ever home, so I jumped the fence, grabbed a bus and made my way home.

The back door was unlocked as always, my sister never remembered to lock it.

When I entered my room he was there. Just standing there with a completely calm look on his face.

All my fears went out the window as I threw myself at him, screeching "You killed him! You killed him"

I was crying and sobbing and hiccupping.

"What's done is done" was the calm reply.

He gently took the scarf from my neck and touched the bruises there "This;" He moved to my stomach "This;" His hands lingered on my hips "This"

He was looking me in the eye, and I knew what he was saying. I just couldn't comprehend how he could kill someone, and show no remorse. Kill someone for me.

I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face into his shoulder. "Sing to me Erik, Sing to me" I murmured through the tears.

He held me close, and despite all he'd done…. I felt strangely safe. Safe with a man who had just killed someone! Safe with a man who had himself hurt me! He had a very dangerous side… yet he'd been always gentle and always tender… with one exception.

It frightened me… this need to have him with me, to care for me, to need someone who would readily kill in an instant.

"I will always watch over you"

Then I fainted, right in his arms.

I was lifted and then taken to my bed, for when I came to, I was in bed, changed into my nightclothes, and a red rose was on my pillow.

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