Disclaimer: I don't own anything "Phantom of the Opera" related, neither
the book rights, nor
the musical. This is a non-profit story for . It's also important to
know that it goes by the events in play, not by those in the book.
The Blood on their Hands
There was blood on his hands. Not literally of course, for the murder had been "clean" without stains, but in his mind, the blood was still there. Not that he cared anymore. Erik was past the point of caring. It simply didn't matter anymore that he was a killer. To them, he had always been the monster, the face behind the mask, the haunted creature of the darkness. The dirt on his hands didn't make him any uglier than he had always been. This wasn't about Joseph Bouquet's blood.
"The Phantom" was wandering around in the dark catacombs of the opera, lost in his thoughts. He had seen Raoul and Christine on the roof, confessing their love for each other and something inside him had snapped. Christine. Erik had thought that she was different, that she understood him and maybe even could love him back, as much as he loved her. But she had turned away from him, her teacher, her creator. It was thanks to him that she had become who she was now, an opera singer with great chances and opportunities. Without him, she would still be a shy, dreamy chorus girl.All he had wanted in return was the young woman's love and it was exactly the thing she wouldn't give him.
Why would she? Nobody could ever love a monster, not even his own mother. All they did was use him, his mind, his talent. When they would get what they were after, they'd betray him, leave him, even try to hunt him down. Had they forgotten who he was? Had they forgotten that he had built this opera, that he was the one who created it all? Oh no, they hadn't. They were afraid of him, that was it. And now they had every reason to be. If they couldn't love him, they would fear him.
Erik sat down in his chair and almost smiled. How foolish of Christine to think that she could ever be free of him. She was his, as was the opera. The voice she had once seen as guiding and soothing would always be there. "The monster may not have the beauty, it may not have the love right now, but it has the mind.", he mumbled to himself. Christine would learn to love him.
He knew that right now, they were probably preparing to hunt him down up there. "The Phantom" was the murderer, the insane killer that had to be eliminated to protect the perfection of their pretty, little world. They were shocked at how he had brutally murdered a man, but they didn't care how they had almost murdered his soul. But they'd face the consequenses.
Grabbing sheets of paper and a pen, Erik sat down at the piano. He was withdrawing in the world that belonged to him, the world of music and darkness, a world where his face wouldn't hold him back. They would force them to rehearse his play and show it to the world. If he couldn't get their love, he'd get their fascination. Christine would admire him, and how she would.
He had irreversibly reconised his place, and his love couldn't change that. A monster's love wasn't worth anything to them.
Erik had created the opera and they had created "the Phantom".
the musical. This is a non-profit story for . It's also important to
know that it goes by the events in play, not by those in the book.
The Blood on their Hands
There was blood on his hands. Not literally of course, for the murder had been "clean" without stains, but in his mind, the blood was still there. Not that he cared anymore. Erik was past the point of caring. It simply didn't matter anymore that he was a killer. To them, he had always been the monster, the face behind the mask, the haunted creature of the darkness. The dirt on his hands didn't make him any uglier than he had always been. This wasn't about Joseph Bouquet's blood.
"The Phantom" was wandering around in the dark catacombs of the opera, lost in his thoughts. He had seen Raoul and Christine on the roof, confessing their love for each other and something inside him had snapped. Christine. Erik had thought that she was different, that she understood him and maybe even could love him back, as much as he loved her. But she had turned away from him, her teacher, her creator. It was thanks to him that she had become who she was now, an opera singer with great chances and opportunities. Without him, she would still be a shy, dreamy chorus girl.All he had wanted in return was the young woman's love and it was exactly the thing she wouldn't give him.
Why would she? Nobody could ever love a monster, not even his own mother. All they did was use him, his mind, his talent. When they would get what they were after, they'd betray him, leave him, even try to hunt him down. Had they forgotten who he was? Had they forgotten that he had built this opera, that he was the one who created it all? Oh no, they hadn't. They were afraid of him, that was it. And now they had every reason to be. If they couldn't love him, they would fear him.
Erik sat down in his chair and almost smiled. How foolish of Christine to think that she could ever be free of him. She was his, as was the opera. The voice she had once seen as guiding and soothing would always be there. "The monster may not have the beauty, it may not have the love right now, but it has the mind.", he mumbled to himself. Christine would learn to love him.
He knew that right now, they were probably preparing to hunt him down up there. "The Phantom" was the murderer, the insane killer that had to be eliminated to protect the perfection of their pretty, little world. They were shocked at how he had brutally murdered a man, but they didn't care how they had almost murdered his soul. But they'd face the consequenses.
Grabbing sheets of paper and a pen, Erik sat down at the piano. He was withdrawing in the world that belonged to him, the world of music and darkness, a world where his face wouldn't hold him back. They would force them to rehearse his play and show it to the world. If he couldn't get their love, he'd get their fascination. Christine would admire him, and how she would.
He had irreversibly reconised his place, and his love couldn't change that. A monster's love wasn't worth anything to them.
Erik had created the opera and they had created "the Phantom".