The night was wet and bitter cold. Rain covered the ground, creating the illusion of a seamless body of water from which there seemed to be no clear end. All that was missing was thunder and lightning to complement what would have been a truly dark and dreary night. For Erik, none of that seemed to matter.
He ran as fast as he could, barely recalling the events of the past twenty-four hours. The only thing Erik knew was that he was very cold and he hurt. He fled from the destruction of the opera house, unsure of where he was heading. He knew one thing though…he had to hide, to escape, to flee…as he had done so many times before.
Christine had been his muse. She was his reason for being. For so long, he toiled in darkness, not knowing his reason for living. Then one day, her voice and the sweetness that accompanied it changed his life forever. Little by little, Christine came to know him through his music. Many times, she would visit him…her "angel of music." He would share his love of music and she turned gave him something he'd not had for quite some time; a passion for living. He was mentor, a friend and one day Erik had hoped…perhaps more. All of that changed the day that the Viscount de Chagny arrived at the Opera Populaire. From that moment on, Erik's descent into madness and despair seemed almost unstoppable.
That was then and this was now. Doubling over in pain, Erik realized that he still could feel the sting from the earlier blow. Thinking back, Erik remembered that when he awoke following Christine and Raoul's departure, he found himself tied to chair. He'd been struck from behind by someone who dared enter his lair. He couldn't be sure if he had heard the person. To be honest…he didn't care. With Christine gone, life held so little meaning for him. Focusing his attention on his current situation, Erik tried to move but was unable to do so. He felt a sharp pain in his shoulder when he tried to break free from his bonds. Erik didn't know who had him held captive. He could only guess it was the police or someone from the lynch mob, out to exact retribution for Erik's earlier success or rather destruction of the opera house. For the first time, Erik was truly scared. If didn't break free of his bonds soon, he would die. Then, he mused to himself, "Maybe he was better off dead."
Erik's escape came in the unlikeliest manner. He realized that it was the lynch mob who had him. Foolishly enough, they'd left him alone for a moment. That was the chance he needed alone with Madame Giry. She'd managed to infiltrate the mob, waiting in the background, blending in, hoping for a moment when…she could help Erik once more. She'd convinced the mob, along with the help of her daughter Meg, that it would be best to fetch a wagon with which they could transport Erik to the prison. Now that they were gone, she made her move. Tugging as best she could, Madame Giry managed to free one of Erik's hands and eventually another. In a matter of seconds, he was completely free and immediately ran; proceeding further into the catacombs. He almost passed out.
Erik didn't know what the mob had done to him, but he knew was that he was extremely weak. He soon found light and made his way out onto the street. Erik did his best but unfortunately, he stumbled as a carriage rode by quickly, knocking him down in the process once more. Erik wasn't sure where he exactly was; his sense of direction twisted by the pain he felt in his body. The impact of cold ground on his already weakened body was almost more than Erik could stand. Somehow, perhaps through sheer will alone, Erik managed to begin walking down this dark cold and damp street. He needed to find a place…a place to call…home.
He walked for quite some time, not really sure of where he was heading. The alleyways and streets he passed began to blend together in one giant blur. Once more he doubled over in pain. His shoulder was hurting him again. In fact, his entire body was wracked with an almost unbearable throbbing. At the moment, Erik didn't care about the future. He didn't care about Christine, the Opera House, his music or even Madame Giry; his one true friend, the woman who first showed him kindness when he was so young. All Erik wanted to do was to sleep. He wanted to be released from the pain that never seemed to end. He was actually ready to surrender to the darkness.
Just then, almost as if by magic, a house appeared. It was small with no light shining from the inside. Erik stumbled towards the house, hoping that no one was at home. It seemed abandoned. He just wanted to rest for a short time and then he would find his way back to the catacombs of the Opera House.
Upon reaching the home, Erik fumbled with the door. 'Damn!' he thought to himself. It was locked; so much for wishful thinking. Looking around, Erik didn't see anyone. He decided that he would break into the house. No one would hear him and he would be gone before the owners returned.
Just as Erik was about to break a window, the door slowly opened. Standing before him was an angel, an angel in white.
"Help me . . . please . . ." Erik pleaded in a pitiful fashion as he collapsed to the ground.