Long Road to Ruin Chapter 1: Just Shoot Me, a phantom of the opera fanfic

LONG ROAD TO RUIN

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A/N: Yes, this is me attempting to write another story! Good luck with it, hope you enjoy…!

Disclaimer: THIS APPLIES FOR EVERY OTHER CHAPTER BECAUSE I CANNOT BE BOTHERED TO KEEP ADDING IT. I do not own this, and other than whoever did not appear in the books etc, Gaston Leroux OWNS THIS ALL.

I would like to thank Lennatha, who inspired me to re-write this….lmao.

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Chapter 1: Just Shoot Me

If this were any normal day, at this time (five thirty in the morning to be precise), Meg Giry would be whiling away the hours until the rest of Paris woke up by practising a dance, or maybe locking herself in her room and pretending to play poker with herself.

But this morning was very different to most mornings. In fact, Meg was stirring from a deep sleep in a strange bed next to a strange man. Technically she should have been waking to see the face (or not as the case may be) of the infamous Phantom of the Opera, known to few as Erik.

Of course, only technically. See, in the days in which Mrs le Fantome was living there was no Ricki Lake, Sally Jesse Raphael or Jeremy Kyle, and Erik couldn't take her on a talk show to question the morality of it and publicly humiliate her.

Trust me, he wanted to.

You might ask me, 'well, why is she doing it? They've only been married for, what, two weeks?' to which I would answer 'ah yes, but Christine de Chagny still lives on the Earth.' You heard me. Now, back to the story.

Meg yawned, stretched, and fell back down, her long blonde hair scattered across the pillow. The thin bed sheets were twisted around her thin frame and every inch of her body was visible beneath them. After attempting to lift herself up several times she finally grabbed hold of the bedpost and pulled, hard. The sheets fell and there was no chance of preserving her modesty at this stage. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she stood, stretched again and reached for her underclothes. They, at least, were in one place. As far as she could remember, last night had been very heated. On the other hand, a lot of alcohol had been consumed and it wasn't very clear.

Meg eventually managed to find everything she had been wearing the previous night and put it on, ignoring her thumping headache and lurching stomach. Finally, she shot the sleeping eye candy in the bed a glance, and stumbled, blinking into the light.

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On the other side of Paris (because this is a story and it couldn't possibly be anywhere else), Erik was playing the organ. This is a polite term, and if I told you what I really meant then I'm sure you would recoil in horror.

I lie. With his mask on (or possibly lying on one side) who wouldn't be able to resist the charms of Don Juan meets Beethoven.

But yes, anyone who knows anything about Innuendo and Other Terms For Things will have figured out that Erik was thinking of a good looking woman formerly known as Boobzilla with blue eyes, blonde hair and one hell of a thin leotard. While he was busy playing away his sorrows Christine was making her way out of the swan bed, scantily clad and looking VERRRRY smug. Well, hey, what can I say?

She snuck up behind him and put one hand on his cheek and the other on his…shoulder (she tried to anyway, her back wasn't THAT flexible. Christine truly was a USELESS ballerina), and murmured in his ear, "and how are you this morning, darling?".

Now, before you shoot the messenger, I think that this calls for a rapid explanation.

Okay, so three days ago Christine had an argument with Raoul over how much he loved her (nauseating, isn't it?), and she went off in a huff. So Raoul turned all EMO and TRAGIC and spent the next few days crying in his room, Christine told Meg she's been having an affair with Erik, Meg went psycho and left, got pissed and slept with the first hot guy that came over to her table and said, in a deep voice, 'Bonsoir, ma cherie, are you lonely this evening?'. In the meantime Erik got a bit jealous and decided to tackle this not by hanging someone, his usual solution to a bit of stress, but by shagging Christine. For a genius this was tremendously stupid.

So, that's how all our protagonists got into this messy situation in the first place, but the question is, WHAT ARE THEY GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?

Well, we'll get to that.

So anyway, for now, everyone's screwed in more senses than one.

….IN NEXT CHAPTER…

Meg staggered in, covered in the red liquid, her hands dripping with it and her pure white dress stained with it.

"Bleeding hell…" She whispered, as she fell onto the floor at Erik's feet…

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