I just realized that I haven't put any disclaimers on my stories. So here's one:
Do you really think I'd be writing things like this if I owned anything from a book written so long ago? Yeah, not really.
This is just a short little thing I had bouncing around in my head of Erik's POV when Christine removed his mask the first time.
As quick as was humanly possible my pale hands flew to my malformed face as the chilled oxygen hit it. My milky porcelain mask lay in the slight hands of my now terrified Angel.
"No!" I screeched at her, making her flee in fear in the opposite direction of me. But I wasn't going to let her off that easily. She was going to pay. I firmly grasped her tiny wrist in my thick hand, forcing her to face me despite her feeble struggles against my strength. I would later regret my actions in full, but at the moment I was intoxicated with rage and fear. Rage at her for prying into what was not hers to know, and fear that she would hate me after this.
"Damn you! You little prying Pandora! You little demon! Is this what you wanted to see?" I cried, removing my hand and making her look at my abomination of a face. I tossed her aside like a limp rag doll, and she fell to her knees, still holding my mask limply.
I fled to the other end of my music room before realizing what I had forgotten to say.
"Curse you! You little lying Delilah! You little viper, now you cannot ever be free!" I vowed, my voice trailing away into deathly silence as I fell to my knees in despair.
She'll hate me. She'll lead others to me, have me killed. No less then I deserve.
I drew my hand back to my face, covering the deformations. "Stranger than you dreamt it, can you even bear to look or dare to think of me- this loathsome gargoyle who burns in hell but secretly urns for heaven...secretly...secretly..." my question trailed, unanswered by the shaking figure who drew away from me as I tried to move closer to her. That stung. But then, I knew she'd hate me after this anyway.
I tried again.
"But Christine...fear can turn to love. You'll learn to see, to find the man behind the monster-this repulsive carcass, who seems a beast but secretly dreams of beauty...secretly...secretly..." My words were once again met with a silence that pounded on my ears louder than anything else I had ever heard in my life.
The enormity of what had just happened was finally beginning to sink in. Desperate, I turned away, trying to hide my face further.
"Oh Christine, no..." I whispered.
What have I done? Nothing can repair this. I can't make this better. She'll hate me. She'll kill me.
A small voice in my head encouraged that thought, the thought of freedom and the thought of being able to really live. For you see, in this world, I am not truly alive. I never have been. Inside, I am empty. A vessel with no soul inside of it.
I glanced back at my Angel of Music before me, no longer shaking in fear, but holding out my snowy mask for me to take back. Quickly I snatched it from her delicate hand, replacing it. I stood, attempting to compose myself, and offered her my hand to help her from my cold stone floor. She accepted hesitantly, but that was good enough for me.
As I led her back out to the surface, I vowed vehemently- I will make you love me! Even if I have to hold you captive, you will be mine, Christine Daae!
She followed me up the tunnel to the surface, strangely calm. But then, she did not know of my plot to make sure that she would only be able to love me. No one else, not even that snivelling Viscount called Raoul whom she appeared to have known since her childhood. He would not get in the way, even if I had to kill him. Christine Daae would be mine!