First off, I'd like to say that this is actually a sequel to Drowning in the Music. If you're new to this story, you don't absolutely have to read Drowning in the Music to begin this story, but it would probably be best to read it first. Unless if you're alright with a couple of spoilers, you can wait to read the other as a prequel. xP Maybe read both a little at a time? Oh well, your choice. Either way, it really doesn't matter.

I hope you all like this story!

My Erik in this fanfic, is a mix of Susan Kay's Erik, and the 2004 Phantom of the Opera movie, starring Gerard Butler. Love both of them!

This chapter is based off of the song, My Heart is Broken by Evanescence.

I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any music from Evanescence. I only own my OC's, especially Clare!

Enjoy!

. . .

"Clare!"

The familiar voice called my name again, and my blurred eyes searched the overwhelming white room. The voice was so familiar. Who was it? I felt a desperate yearning to see the person I heard. Still struggling to evade from the confusing trance, a name crossed my mind. For a moment, I knew it like the back of my hand, but before I could truly grasp it, it fled from my mind. Although the name left, something flowed in my stirring conscious like a dear memory.

I felt completely submerged elsewhere. I could feel a cold winter breeze gently brushing though my red hair, and grazing my face. I could feel him next to me; the man. Something told me that I knew him dearly, but I could not place him in my mind correctly.

"I didn't want to see my only friend being harmed." He said softly, with a very deep and musical undertone. My eyes that had originally settled on his shiny black dress shoes flickered up to his dark brown vest and black tailored coat.

"Thank you so much." This voice was different. It was. . .

Underneath the restless waves of confusion in my mind, I somehow faintly recognized that it was my own voice. Everything felt so familiar. My whole body nearly trembled in a fierce, uncontrollable longing for the unknown voice; the unknown person. It was as though my heart knew this man, but failed to remind my brain. Deep down, I knew this man, but his information had slipped from my mind. I would've given anything to remember – why couldn't I remember him?

"You are welcome, cherie." He whispered. For a moment, I swore that it had been said straight into my ear. I had even been convinced that I felt his warm breath graze my skin affectionately. I then realized that I was hugging him, and I was deeply relaxed in his welcoming arms. Faintly familiar voice reached my ears as I pulled away from the embrace. Just as my eyes were about to drink in his features, he turned his face away, pointed in the direction of the voices.

"Clare!"

I hadn't even realized that my eyes had drifted shut again until my name was said once more, awakening me from the warm and oddly soothing comatose. My eyes snapped open, light invading my sight harshly.

As I desperately tried to see the man's face, he faded away from the blaring bright light, and I felt grief fill me. There was an unexplainable longing for the man once he disappeared. I had never felt that way before in my entire life. I was tempted to reach out and find him, but he was gone. I wanted to call out his name, but I did not know it. I swore that I had known him- that I had known him with all of my heart. Although as my conscious returned, stirring drowsily, every vivid detail washed out of my mind; features lost and forgotten.

Realizing that this man my heart yearned for was gone, I felt tears spring to my eyes. I had already missed the anonymous man. He had such a deep rapturous and warm voice; he seemed inhuman. . .I would've been convinced that this man was an angel, but did angel's did not wear black. Perhaps he was a dark angel, although that thought didn't sound right; he seemed far too gentle to be a demon. What was he? Deep down, it felt as though he belonged to me. If that was the case, he couldn't be an angel, then.

The voice called my name continuously. Was it the man? Was he nearby?

Gazing through my tears, I realized that I was in a room. A white room. The searing white made me wince and I struggled to make out shapes. Hiding my eyes in the shadows casted from my raised hand, I continued to look until my weak eyes softened against the light.

"Clare, honey?" A familiar motherly voice cooed.

"Mom?" My voice came out much quieter than I had expected; just barely audible to my own ears.

"Yes, it's me." She responded to my surprise. When she didn't say anything else, I noticed that there was a heart monitor next to me, beeping in my ear. Gazing through my blurred eyes, I could see both of my parents sitting tenderly next to the bed I laid in. My eyes flickered back down, seeing that I was in a medical bed. My heart nearly stopped when I realized that I was in a hospital.

It wasn't that that bothered me; it was not remembering why I was there that made my heart rate climb. I frantically racked my mind for the latest thing that resurfaced, but remained fuzzy.

My eyes darted back down, seeing that my right wrist was wrapped up tightly with white bandages. I examined my hand for a moment, debating whether I should've dared to move my fingers. After some hesitation, I stiffly stretched out my hand, immediately stopping once it throbbed in agony, forcing me to grit my teeth for a moment.

Once that pain subsided, I fidgeted uncomfortably to face my parents, halting when a sharp pain jabbed into the very center of my elbow. I twisted my arm, spotting a patch sticking to my elbow. I rested my arm carefully, but not before feeling the harsh pain shooting up my arm.

A long silence dragged on until my sleepy conscience realized that both of my parents were anxiously waiting for me to say something. I immediately felt awful when I saw their eyes brimming with tears; especially my mother. My father was good at keeping his grief under control, but I could still see that he was also very troubled. Although through the worried stares I received from them, one question tugged at my mind.

"What happened?"

. . .

Erik's POV

I cannot deny it. I love Erik. That's what kills me, though. His heart is still set on Christine – I just know it, but Christine does not return it. Poor Erik. His heart is practically tossed aside, but he still fights to win her heart. And through all of that, I'm standing here helplessly, watching the entire time. I want to help him, but it kills me that he loves her. How can I help him, and not break? How can I be understanding with him when he speaks so openly about her, when my heart aches to be in Christine's shoes instead of mine?

I have a horribly selfish feeling that I will not be strong enough to follow through with all of it, but I still cannot erase my feelings for him. Oh gosh! It kills me! I want him. I love everything about him. . .

. . .

The more I read her letters, the more I cried. How had I over looked her feelings? Had I been fixated on Christine enough that everything else remained oblivious to me?

The entire time I could have truly had her. She could have been mine even when I first saw my early signs of admiration in her. She could have been mine so long ago, although my doubtful thoughts prevented me from ever believing so.

I released the letters, dropping my head into my hands. I heard the letters flutter down, sweeping and then settling against the keys of the organ. Vicious sobs racked through my body as I released every pain that had grieved my heart; all the pain that had built up all of these years.

She had swept away a lot of the pain, but her sudden disappearance sent everything up into the air once more. I never wanted this torture to settle onto my shoulders again, but somehow, it had found another way to grow even heavier, until it was agonizing; unbearable.

Would I wander the rest of my life, reaching for happiness only to draw away once it struck me in rejection? No, I would wander to somehow find her. After everything we had gone through. . .

Oh! The pain was intolerable! I needed her!

You'll never find her. My mind whispered.

Knowing that was most likely true, more tears flooded from my eyes, landing on the pages; the pages that she had written on. The letters tore me apart, but somehow kept my sanity bound together. It was the only evidence I had, probing that she had not been a figment of my imagination. Though now I had evidence of her existence, her absence would torment me every day. It would torment me until it drove me into a death caused by sorrow; until I died from a broken heart.

Soon I found myself leaving the pipe organ, as the memories haunted my mind. This had to be a nightmare. I had told myself that when I had first arrived home once her disappeared. I had been overwhelmed by shock and grief – I had told myself that it wasn't true, and that I would find her sound asleep in the lovely red swan bed. Although once I stumbled in, half in denial and half in depression, my hopes had been shattered.

She was gone.

That was when cruel reality woke me.

She was gone.

I froze when I suddenly realized that I was grimly staring back at my own reflection, in one of the many wretched mirrors of my home. I was grimly staring back at my own blue eyes. Countless emotions filled my mind. I automatically loathed the face I saw, but her soft words brought shame upon my sour thoughts. I soon found myself asking what it was I hated. My face? My life? Me?

I would have said that I hated my life, but that was not entirely true. I had lived moments that I cradled carefully in my beaten up heart. Those were memories of her. Those months spent with her, were some of the happiest moments I had ever experienced. I just wasn't given enough time to cherish it. She was torn away far too quickly.

Saying that I hated my life would bring guilt, for I felt no remorse upon my happy moments spent with her. Instead, her name was on the only thing that glowed deep within my soul. Clare. Her name was the only life that remained in my scarred heart. Although my heart deeply treasured her, it also mourned for her relentlessly. She would be the death of me; I was just sure of it.

As more and more emotions built up within the walls of me, a loud crash ruptured into the air, and my reflection fractured before my eyes. Fragments of glinting glass suddenly fell before my feet. As I breathed heavily, a searing pain shot through my hand.

For a wild moment, I thought I was suffering from a heart attack, and that the pain would shoot up my arm as well. Although when that did not happen, I realized that my hand felt warm and sticky. My eyes flew down to my throbbing hand, finding my own blood seeping through lacerations, trailing down my knuckles and wrist.

I could see clearly then, the shards of glass that was embedded into my hand. The pulsing wound caused me to cringe in pain. I was bleeding badly, and my mind urged me to fix the wound, though at the very back of my mind, a question made me hesitate.

Why bother fighting? Why not bleed out? There is nothing to live for anymore.

As more and more blood seeped out continuously, I realized how much blood was on the floor. I wondered if I had severed a vain, but for some odd reason, that did not worry me. I knew that in seconds, numbness would spread, and death would drift upon me. I found myself impatiently waiting for darkness to enclose around me.

Before I knew it, I was beginning to grow dizzy. It wasn't the first time this had happened, after all. I nearly bled to death on my fifth birthday. The scars on my hands and wrist had been re-slit. I couldn't believe that I was still standing, thought I began to sway uneasily in my spot. Growing weaker and weaker, I sank to my knees, failing to feel glass digging into my skin. Slumping forward, I faintly felt my temple resting against the cold frame of the broken mirror. My pulse thumped against the frame – my body fighting to live. I allowed my eyes to slip shut, waiting for my life to slip and drift away.

I love you, Clare.

I only wanted to think about Clare in my last moments. Some people often fanaticized about their life flashing before their eyes during death, but that was not the case for me. Was death not near enough? Instead all I could think of was what Clare would have done if she was there. I could imagine her frantically trying to stop the blood flow.

"No Erik! Don't you close your eyes – don't just give up!" I could just about hear her saying that. "You do have something to live for – look at me, don't close your eyes! Stay with me!"

Why did it matter? She was no longer here, and there was no escaping from the lonely darkness; I could not escape with her. She was gone.

Although part of me wanted to die, the other part cringed in remorse. Not only did death sound very depressing (though at times it seemed more pleasant than my wretched life before Clare), but guilt filled me upon the thought of failing Clare. She wouldn't have wanted this to happen. At times I could not understand that child for even caring about me.

She found me attractive? She found a sweet side of me? Whether she was a rare jewel, or utterly insane, her letter had touched my heart and sent me into tears.

Oh, my dear Clare. . .

I then regretted that I had originally succumbed to the idea of death; I could not allow myself to die. Clare wouldn't have wanted it. It would've torn her heart; something that I still could not comprehend correctly.

I knew that if I decided to live at the last second, I would have to work very quickly.

You could find Clare. My mind whispered. You just have to look for her. She came here and let here somehow. Find that gateway.

Through my fuzzy mind, I somehow pulled myself off the bitter ground. The room whirled around me and I stumbled.

Why? I thought. Why though? She's gone.

No she's not! My mind argued back. Now stop trying to figure out all of the possibilities, and stop your nasty bleeding! If you don't stop it now, then you're going to die!

Knowing that it true, I pushed aside my plans to find Clare at that moment, as I went to tend my wounds.

. . .

Well, I hope you guys liked it! I hope that there's no errors, but I'm sure that they're there, since I was in a rush to get this up.

So what's gonna happen next?! You'll find out soon!

Thanks for reading! Please review!