Five whole years can change a man, and sometimes, it's not for the better. There was a time when I believed myself to have been saved. Saved…What a hopeful word. My entire life, I had been waiting to be saved, but saved from what? I needed to be saved from myself, I needed to be lifted from the body I had been condemned to my entire miserable life. Never once, had this very body been loved, hugged, kissed…Oh, kissed. That very word sent memories floating through my mind. Imagine having to live your entire life alone and unloved, only to have every emotion bestowed upon you within a matter of seconds. That is what happened to me on that night, that one, faithful night that was supposed to seal my fate forever more. I had always been a crazy man, but in a matter of seconds, my icy heart had been broken. I had kidnapped Christine Daae from the very opera stage, demanding that she marry me. Of course, her boy had been trapped in one of my famous Punjab Lassos…It was the only way I could ensure our marriage. But what happened next, sent my aching soul flying into thin air. Instead of making her choice like she was supposed to do, she wrapped her arms around me and kissed my malformed lips.

My icy heart melted the moment her arms flew around me. No one had ever done this to me before…Never! I died that moment, died! But they say that when one dies, they are reborn. My birth, however was not the sort of birth others would speak about. Christine had slain the dragon, but she did not make this dragon into a loyal, loving puppy…No, Christine had awaked an evil within the dragon, one that was worse than before. Yes, I had released her boy, but that wasn't what sent evil seeping through my veins…No, it was what came afterwards. When Christine left, I plopped down onto the floor, sobbing like a complete fool, and all because I had grown soft for a woman, one who I loved more than anything in the world. Though, that softness was soon hardened when the mob arrived.

Oh, they did horrible things to me…Horrible, unspeakable things! Fire was burned into my flesh, weapons were brought down upon my body. Blood! So much blood had been spilled all over my lair…and from that blood, fire was replaced within my core. The world hated me, and therefore, I hated the world right back. In Christine, I believed there to be some salvation, a tiny bit of salvation that could have saved me forever more. But, that evening as I had the worst beating I had ever experienced, I came to realize that I was placed upon this earth to hate and be hated back. If Christine couldn't love me, no one could. I had thought the mob killed me, for after a while of feeling the agony of their beating, I fell unconscious. Though, when I woke, I was someplace worse than hell; I was in Madam Giry's apartment. She was no friend, she was no savior, no, she was an acquaintance and nothing more. Why had she helped me? Why had she pulled me from the death I so desired? I hated her for that, and therefore, I refused to speak to the woman. I wanted to die…that was the only reasonable way out of the world. Christine was gone, Christine didn't love me, and so, I wanted to die.

"You have many bruises," Madame Giry stated. "But, you will live."

And live I did…For nearly a month, I laid within the lonely bed of her apartment, while the world continued living. My death was announced in the newspaper, followed by Christine's wedding to the boy…If there was a day when my heart broke into two, it was when I opened the paper and read about their marriage. Life was suddenly no longer worth living after that point in time. Without Christine, there was no me, and now, she was no longer my Christine Daae. Both of my broken ribs and ankle healed and afterwards, it was time to leave Paris. I couldn't bear living here any longer, and so, after nearly a month of recuperating, Madame Giry, her daughter Meg and I left. I wasn't sure where we were headed, but Madame Giry had wanted to go to the new world of America, a place that was supposedly filled with opportunity…Little did I know that the opportunity Madame Giry spoke of was nothing more than a job showing off my face.

Coney Island…Or as I like to call it hell…The place was crawling with freaks and evil beings. Everyone who lived there worked in this place called Luna Park, showing off whatever oddity they possessed for a mangy buck! Yes, it wasn't my first choice, but after numerous attempts to sell my music and failed, I turned to my only option. A freak! That's all that I was! I hated the world ever more after that…Oh, they were cruel. Every day, rain or shine, I would sit under a hot tent and show off my face to men, women, and children. Some laughed, some shrieked, others called me cruel names…Some, even threw food and other hard objects at me. By the day's end, I found myself home and alone…Always alone. I might have lived with Madame Giry and her daughter, but I barely spent time with any of them.

Each day, I returned home covered in filth and smelling like death. Oh, I hated the world, and the world hated me. Summers came and went, winters lingered, as I awaited the death that would never come. During the winters, I attempted suicide numerous times, but each time, I still found myself alive. God refused to let me die…but why? Why wouldn't god allow me to die if I wanted to? There was no heaven for me. There would only be hell, and hell was what I wanted. Once, I tried overdosing on morphine, but instead of dying, I simply found myself puking my insides up for nearly a week. Then, I tried starving myself, but after three days, I gave in and started eating again. But, it was the last attempt that had Madame Giry on me like a mother hen. Ever since that day, Madame Giry has not left me alone for more than a few hours. I wish I could turn back time and change what I had done, but I simply don't have the power. Wanting to die so badly, I slit my wrists and laid down to die. Only, Madame Giry came up to my room searching for me twenty minutes later and pulled me to the nearest hospital. Oh, it would have worked! I could have died, and yet, even she wouldn't let me die.

Seventy stitches…that's how deep I cut my wrists. And so, instead of death, I was left with badly scarred wrists; wrists that I am embarrassed to show. Which is why I now wear gloves. Hideous! Even in Coney Island there are no women to show someone such as myself compassion. No women, no whores, no one! Years may have passed, but in all those years spent living on Coney Island, never once had any woman approached me. I am a man who's life is nearly halfway over, and yet, never once had I ever made love to anyone. No, the only pleasure I feel is by touching myself. Though, one evening, I found myself needing a woman, so badly, that I ventured to a random brothel. I was nervous and sweating profusely, but even then, the women turned me away…Think of that! A whore, turning a man away! But it's true, and it did happen. Once they seen my mask, they all backed away, pretending that they were currently occupied. And so, I wallowed home and sobbed myself to sleep. Hell…Everywhere I turned was hell!

"Erik?"

I was sitting at my desk, when I heard a knock at my bedroom door and the annoying voice of Meg. Oh, I hated the girl. I had just returned home from a long, hot day at work and was in no mood for visitors, especially her. I ignored her voice and continued writing. My back and shoulders were killing me and I reeked of garbage. A bath was indeed in my near future.

"Erik, mother has supper on the table," she cooed. "She set you a place."

If there was one thing I hated, it was when Madame Giry insisted on setting me a place at her table. I was nothing but a border, but she insisted on making it seem like more. I hardly ate, and when I did, I enjoyed eating alone. I paid her my half of the rent every month and on time! The least she could do is obey my wishes to be left alone.

"Erik?"

I was trying to write down the notes to a libretto I had in my head all afternoon, but every time I attempted to finish it, her voice would knock me off course.

"What do you want, you blasted little vermin!"

I heard the girl gasp, before answering me.

"Mother has dinner on the table. Sh…she wants you to come eat."

"And you can tell your mother that I told her time and time again to leave me alone!" I barked, slamming my pen down on my desk.

There was a long pause, and I was sure she walked away, until I heard her voice again.

"Does this mean that you won't be at dinner?"

"GO AWAY!"

It was then, that I heard frantic footsteps hurrying down the stairs. Oh, being alone never felt so relieving. A few moments later, I rose and climbed into my bathtub, taking pleasure in cleaning my filthy flesh.

"Erik, what's going on in there?"

I heard Madame Giry's angry voice shouting at me through my closed bedroom door, but I didn't answer her. Instead, I sunk my head down beneath the water, so that I could only hear the beating of my heart. And just like that, I pressed my eyes closed and relaxed myself. I would have enjoyed it too, if I wasn't abruptly pulled up out of the water. The force of it all had caused water to enter my sorry excuse for a nose, causing me to cough.

"What is wrong with you, Erik?" Madame Giry growled. "Drowning yourself, are you?"

This was something that angered me more than anything in the world. To Madame Giry, she believed that I was always trying to end my life. Ever since the night I slit my wrists, she never leaves me alone for more than a few hours. Oh, I was furious now!

"Do you always barge into someone's room when they are in the nude and taking a bath?"

I grabbed my bath towel and wrapped it around my naked body, rushing around to my wardrobe to find my shirt.

"It looked like you were trying to drown yourself to me, Erik," the old woman scowled. "Like always…"

"And so what if I was? Can't I die if I wish to? I wasn't drowning myself, Madame, I was simply relaxing."

"If you were relaxing, Erik, then why didn't you answer my daughter?"

I threw a shirt over my back and leaned my body against the wardrobe doors.

"I will not be joining you tonight, or any other night, Madame. I want my privacy and I expect you to obey my wishes."

"What has gotten into you, Erik?" she curiously asked. "Why must you shun yourself from the two people who only wish to spend time with you?"

"Meg does not wish to spend time with me, Madame…You try to force it upon her. As for yourself, you don't wish to spend time with me. You're simply looking after me like a mother does with their small toddler. I do not need to be looked after, Madame."

"You've done nothing but sit up here day after day, Erik."

"And I have a right to do so, Madame…I work all day. And at night, if I wish to come up here and lock my door, then who are you to tell me otherwise?"

"You're lonely. Sitting up here and waiting for Christine to come back will do you no good…"

"Christine," I barked. "Can burn in the hottest parts of hell, Madame! She is no different than any other ballerina! And I was a fool for thinking otherwise! Now, leave me be! And just for the record, I do not sit up here pining for that wench!"

There was a long pause of silence, and then Madame Giry's voice again.

"I know you don't mean that, Erik. I know if Christine were here right now, you'd be smiling and happy."

I was so angry, that I spun around and grabbed the first thing available, which was a drinking glass and threw it in her direction. It missed and hit the wall, shattering into a million pieces.

"You know nothing!" I cried. "Nothing, Madame!"

"I know more than you think, Erik."

And with that, the woman closed my bedroom door and left me alone. Oh, she knows nothing…There were nights when I did think about Christine, but most of the nights, I kept her out of mind. For she was like a poison to me…lethal in every way. After pulling on a pair of sleep trousers, I took a seat on my windowsill and gazed out upon Coney Island. It hurt me deeply when I would see other freaks walking hand in hand with their love, and here I was, up here, locked away and lonely. I pulled my knees into my chest and sighed. Tomorrow was another day, and that day would go on as any other. Wake, work, eat, sleep…That's all I ever did. Was it so much to want more out of life? And it wasn't like I didn't attempt more, for I tried desperately to have a better life. No, my face prevented it all.

"Why, Christine?" I cooed into my knees. "Why was it so hard to love me?"

But no one ever answered me. Even when I spoke, I was alone. The sun was setting now, allowing the electric lights of Coney Island to light up the sky. I sat there for the longest time that night, wishing that there was someone on this earth to love me…I have spent the last forty years staring into my sorry excuse for a face, and yet, even I have become used to it. Couldn't someone out there get used to it as well? Then again, I was the man who believed Christine could look beyond my face and love and look where it got me. Nowhere but in hell and hell was most likely all I would ever know.

Hey everyone, this is a new story and will most likely be updated once every two weeks until I finish my latest story "Track Down this Murderer." After that, I shall try to update more often. Enjoy and please review. Thanks!