Hey peoples! This was my first fanfic. I started writing it when I was sixteen, and gave up because it was mildly awful. Now I'm rewriting it and editing it, and I hope you all like it! I like the idea of the Phantom from Leroux's book, where he is scary and murderous. He's obsessed with Christine, and I'm going to take this fic in a dark direction (dark directions are my favorite directions!).

I don't own anyone or anything, sadly. The characters belong to Leroux, and the music/lyrics and the setting that I picture in my head are property of Andrew Lloyd Weber, Charles Hart, and a few other people whose names I can't think of. Please read and review, telling me what you think.

Enjoy!

Erik had always thought she was beautiful, even when she was only seven and had just come to the opera house. He chuckled as he thought back to when she first called him her angel of music. He was only twenty-one then. He would sing to her, and she would sing back. What a gorgeous voice she had! With his help, it was now the most grand and stunning voice in all of Paris. It was a shame that no one knew it yet.

She had been there for eleven years now, and still she thought him her angel. She had big brown doe eyes and beautiful brown, curly hair. He had always wanted to run his fingers through that hair, but he was never close enough to her. There was always something coming between them, usually his one-way mirror. He smiled darkly. He would be able to touch her soon enough.

Tonight had gone according to plan so far. She was Carlotta's replacement in Hannibal, just as he had wanted. The play would soon be over and he would take her as soon as she got to her dressing room.

Would she be frightened of him? Of his face marred by scars? Perhaps if he kept his mask on at all times she would not notice. The scars were only on one side and the mask covered them beautifully. Yet she was so curious all the time…He would have to keep her in check.

Christine. He thought of her as he waited in the secret passage behind her mirror. He thought of her innocence and youth - such a stark contrast to himself, the Phantom of the Opera. Though he was but thirty-two years old, many men had died at his hand. He was a ruthless, angry man, and curious intruders incensed him, with their scuttling about the opera house, trying to find the Phantom. Few had ever gotten to the truth, that he was no supernatural creature, just a wicked beast tormented by beauty. He relished each time he got hold of them, snapping their necks with his Punjab lasso or trapping them in his heated maze of mirrors.

His train of thought was broken as the door creaked. She was back…but what was this? She was with a man? Erik scrutinized the figure that entered. No, he was but a boy. He was obviously some form of nobility, he looked so…delicate.

Erik waited behind the mirror, listening to them speak sweet nothings to each other. The boy obviously thought he was in love, and his idiocy slowly stoked the rage that was burning in Erik's gut. The boy knew nothing of love. Yet, Christine was responding to him, this Raoul. How dare they?!

He was irate. Why did she think she could be with anyone but him? She belonged to him and no one else. And who was this Raoul to think that he could take her away? This boy would have to be taken care of, and soon.

"I'll order my carriage. Twenty minutes, Little Lotte," spoke the boy as he exited the room. Erik fumed and exhaled through clenched teeth. She would not be going anywhere with him.

"No, Raoul, wait!" She replied. They had been arguing about whether to leave or not, and Christine wriggled uncomfortably. She had told Raoul of her angel, and Erik had been so pleased with her then. But as the boy sniggered and argued and pushed to take Christine out, Erik had gotten angrier and angrier. Erik smiled cruelly. It would be the Punjab lasso for Raoul, and he would make it last.

Fifteen minutes later, Christine had changed into her sleeping attire and left Raoul waiting. Good girl, Erik thought. He watched as she took a large sip of the wine that was resting on her dressing table. Perfect, he smiled. His faithful friend Madame Giry had drugged it, when she had deposited his rose.

"Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory," he sang to her, his blatant fury causing her to wince. "Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in MY triumph." He watched as her face dropped in fear.

"Angel, I hear you speak, I listen. Stay by my side, guide me," she sang back meekly. "Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me. Enter at last, Master."

Erik smirked to himself, pleased at her words. She was ever so obedient.

"Flattering child, you shall know me. See why in shadows I hide. Look at your face in the mirror. I am there inside." As he sang to her, she was hypnotized. She did not even notice when he opened the mirror for her to enter.

"Angel of music, guide and guardian, pray, to you all glory! Angel of music, hide no longer, secret and strange angel!" She sang as she inched toward the new opening.

There was a moment where the world stood still just then – Erik waiting for her to take his hand, Christine hesitating in her hypnotized stupor. Then she grasped his hand and the world turned again. He sighed inwardly in relief, relishing the thought of what was to come. He would finally get to feel her, finally get to touch her soft skin and her beautiful tresses.

They sang to each other as he led her down to his home. She followed him through the passage and down the stairs, down the ramp on the horse and across the lake in his venetian boat, and finally to the candlelit cavern where he resided.

Everything was going according to plan.

Sorry it's so short! The next chapter is going to be a little short too, but chapter three is longer! Bear with me :)