He ran through the corridor as fast as he could. He knew these halls like the back of his hand, but suddenly, in the heat of the moment, he was acting like a bumbling fool. His head hurt and there was blood running down his face.

He could hear the mob getting closer and closer. How had it come to this? All his life he had been sequestered in this opera house surrounded by music and that had been a comfort. He trained his voice and could sing like no other and he also taught himself to play countless instruments, though the organ and violin were his favorites. Architecture became a passion, as well as theatrical tricks of the trade like throwing his voice and vanishing in a crowded space. He was a genius in a musical playground and now his place of refuge would become his crypt because people thought a deformed face meant the soul was just as twisted.

The only person who had ever loved him was gone and Erik had no one to save him. Perhaps if he could just get to the chapel maybe he could have one last moment of peace before the end. He skidded to a halt and pulled open the door. The sight of the little girl kneeling at the alter made him stop.

"Papa please… Why did you have to die and leave me all alone?"

Erik, maybe ten years older than the girl, felt his heart stop. He stopped breathing and pressed his back to the door. She was dressed like a ballerina.

"The angel will come, won't he?" the girl asked. "Please… please send me the Angel of Music. I promise I'll keep singing, just please don't leave me alone."

Erik slid out of the chapel, determined to find a way to aid this new addition to the opera house. But as he turned he felt something collide with his head. Everything went black.

When he came to Erik was being dragged by a rope that bound his hands. His body was bruised and sore. He was gagged and the men surrounding him gave no indication they knew he woken up. He looked around the best he could.

They were underground, in the catacombs that Erik knew well.

"Throw him in the lake," one of the men said.

"Better tie him better," said another. "Tie the end of the rope to his ankles."

"I can't believe that man allowed this demon to live," another added. "We'll all be better off when he's dead."

Erik began to struggle in earnest and the men moved in to contain him. Despite the blood and the pounding in his head he made sure to get a good look at each of them. His mind was sharp and he could easily remember each betrayer.

"Hit him again."

"Tie him up quick."

Erik was hogtied and hoisted into the air. This was it, he was going to die. There was no way he could swim trussed up. Nor could he break his bonds and get away when there were so many men around.

The little ballerina's words came back to him: Papa please… Why did you have to die and leave me all alone?

It was a selfish thought, blaming the dead for dying. But when a young person's heart broke it was too much to handle. Erik steeled himself and swore he would no longer mourn. He would let his anger rise and somehow he would get his revenge.

Then he felt the cold sting of the water and he was slipping down below the surface. Darkness closed in around him and he couldn't breathe.

So this was what it felt like to die…