Chapter 2
I woke up on a couch in a strange room. The first stupid, rather Dorothy-esque, thought to come to my mind was, "I'm not in geometry anymore." this is where I realize I can't be dreaming, becuase if I fell asleep in class my geometry teacher would throw a shoe at me.
I promptly got up and began to fool with various objects in the room. Don' t I just have wonderful manners I then started to do what I always do: I sang. I had soon launched into a solo of "Seasons of Love" from RENT. I sing everywhere, including the hallways at school and in the library, and in the shower, and at the grocery store, and on the toilet... you see what I'm getting at?; I saw no reason not to do it in this strange place.
I whipped around at the sound of a man clapping softly. Brava, brava, bravisima He was almost completely in black; even his face was hidden behind an ebony mask.
"Bon matin, mademoiselle." His voice positively took my breath away. I was very flustered by his presence. The tiny amount of French that I am familiar with had completely left my mind.
"Um… Hello." I said stupidly, giving the stranger a little wave. this would have been my honest-to-God reaction
"Oh, I see you speak English."
I gave nod in reply.
"Well, I must say you have a lovely voice, mademoiselle." I blushed at his compliment. Another thing I do an awful lot of is blushing. Most people think I'm horribly naive. I'm not it's just that such things are not at the forefront of my mind.
"I'm not all that good." I mumbled in weak protest. I am highly aware of every tiny flaw in my voice. I nit pick A LOT
"Believe me, mademoiselle, I know talent when I hear it." I think at this point my face resembled a tomato. "May I your name mademoiselle?"
"My name is Morgan," I said quietly. The man took my hand. He bowed saying:
"You may call me Erik."
Comprehension hit me like a ton of bricks. Erik! I was in the presence of the Phantom of the Opera. Images of punjabs and torture chambers started to dance around in my head. RUN AWAY! *is pursued by farm animals that have been launched out of a catapult*
"I'm very sorry to intrude, monsieur. I'll just leave." *shuffle, shuffle... RUN!*
"I'm afraid I can't let you do that mademoiselle Morgan. You have seen my face, if you recall." I did, and I'm not going to lie, it wasn't pleasant.
"Of course, forgive me. My mind is a little muddled." I could tell he was caught of guard by my cooperation.
Erik started to walk towards me. I jumped back, hastily raising my hand next to my face. Your hand at the level of your eye! Erik can be very intimidating. That didn't stop me from being embaressed, though. I heard Erik give a dark chuckle.
"Do I frighten you, Morgan?" Your the freakin' Phantom of the Opera! Of COURSE you scare me!
"Yeah, a little," I mumbled. I'd read enough phics where the phangirl died to feel that my fear was justified.
"I can hardly blame you. Not after…" Erik trailed of touching his mask. *sniffle* At that point I forgot everything that had made me keep my distance. I am impulsive by nature I rushed forward and put my hand on his shoulder. He whipped around and stared at me. I think we were both shocked.
"I'm not frightened of you because of your face Erik," I said quietly. I meant it too. I'm not really a morbid person per se Although I do find the disections in biology fascinating , but I almost found Erik attractive in an extremely unorthodox kind of way.
"You are lying to Erik to trick him into letting you go," he accused, "How could Erik's form not make your very skin crawl?" Every little trait however small makes my very flesh begin to crawl with simple utter loathing.
I rushed forward and gave Erik a quick hug.
"Just call me a freak." Let your freak flag wave, Let your freak flag fly!
