Judit's POV:

As Erik left, I soon had the courage to check the contents of the basket he had brought me. As I looked into it I could only find a loaf of bread, two bottles of water and a knife for the bread. Not even a single candle. I can sit here in the dark without an end. My phone had a flashlight, but if it runs out of battery, I had no other sources of light. I sighed. Suddenly I realized I did not feel something on me that I should have, and my later examination made my fear clear: I had lost my watch. Damn, I loved my musical watch. Well, if I ever get back home, I will order myself a new one.

If I ever get home…

Why was I such an idiot? Erik was right, I did deserve this all to happen to me, as I caused it for myself. Exactly. I travelled here, in time and place, to meet Erik, the Phantom of the Opera, and that is what has happened, indeed. I don't know what I was thinking, really. I was only a stranger to Erik, and he definitely does not give too much thought about murdering someone. Maybe he is going to kill me? Why did he give me food and drink if he wanted to kill me? Does he want to torture me? Why would he do that? I knew he was a crazy person, but why would he torture me if I did not hurt him by any means?

Seeing the type of food and drink he had given me, I could see the hint- he was definitely think and handle me as a prisoner who will be kept on bread and water. He sent me the message. But as I heard, even the inhabitants in jail got at least a goddamned candle. Kazinczy, who was a Hungarian writer and was sent to prison for political reasons, was allowed to write with ink. Erik did not give me a single pencil. A book to read…? So much room was still in this stupid basket, it could have contained some other things... Well, at least I had a knife, and the walls were made of brick.

Maybe I could play the determined musician and write something…? Perhaps the last time in my life…

I had no other things to do anyway.

Sure thing that composing consumes time, and a lot more it does when one can only carve notes and sharps in brick by the blade of a knife. I just hope I won't run out of battery and empty spots on the walls. At least, having an activity lessened my headaches and pain in my foot. The thing I wrote was in E minor. Bit of sad, giving away my current worries and fears at that time.

I composed until my phone's flashlight worked, but however I was trying to save energy, it got consumed and I was left alone with an unfinished composition in a dark cold cellar, with pain, sickness, fears, and not a single soul to talk to. I was trying to have my mind occupied by coming up with story ideas, or having conversations with myself, but I felt weaker and weaker. I had not much appetite. I did not have the urge to eat only bread, and to be honest, I wasn't hungry. I drank the water, and that was all.

I was cold. I did not get a blanket either. The wound on my head was bothering me. It was warm and painful and dried up blood made it disgusting to touch. My face and T shirt had blood dried on it as well. I did not have water to wash. I drank it all without thinking about washing my face at least. It would have required too much water, and I had too little with me to be wasted.

There was a barrel in the corner, next to a wall. There was enough room between it and the wall for me to climb in there to sleep, like a small wounded animal. I was waiting for death right there.

Once, when I wasn't any more hoping for such things to happen, the door opened.

Its creaking surprised and scared me, and I did not know at first, who had entered the room. I had to cover my eyes as suddenly too much light came into the room, I was already getting used to darkness. As I slowly looked around, I noticed Erik standing in front of me. He found out my hiding place. He did not say a word. He slowly knelt down to meet my level, and reached out his hand towards me. I did not know what he wanted to do, I got scared he might have come here to end my life, and to fool him, I was pretending to be already dead by closing my eyes, but he couldn't be tricked. He grabbed my shoulder, pulled me out from next to the barrel, sat me up, and removed my glasses before slapping me real hard to wake me up. Wow. He did not want to harm my glasses. That cold and planned cruelty was making me speechless. I was looking at him questioningly, but did not say a word, just was waiting. He put my glasses back on me, but he did nothing more. Slowly he released me from his grip, and looked around in the room. By the light of his lantern the room seemed to be a lot friendlier. He walked closer to my composition, examined it a bit, tilted his head from side to side, then he left without a word, but he did leave the lantern on the ground. I did not dare to move or say anything. What was that? What did he want if he did nothing in the end?

I don't know how much time passed again, when I heard the door open. Erik returned. He carried a smaller box in his hand, and slowly put it down on the ground, then kicked it in my direction. It arrived next to my hand.

- What… what is this? – I asked finally.

- You'll find out. – He stated.

- Will it explode if I open it? – I inquired cautiously.

- No. – He growled.

I opened the lid painstakingly, and closed my eyes for a few seconds before daring to look at the contents, but after nothing horrible had happened, I examined it with growing interest. It was a box of white chalk. Chalk that you would use at school on blackboards.

- For me? – I asked with surprise.

- No. For my grandmother who lives in Congo. – He moaned in frustration. – Why do you ask so dumb questions?

- Sorry.

He collected the basket and noticed I hardly touched the bread.

- What is that Mademoiselle? Huh? Isn't it a nice enough meal for your Highness? What should Erik bring, eh? What? Some prawns, maybe? Lobster?

- I dislike seafood. – I said.

- Really? – He thundered. – Well, you little spoiled snot! If you dislike anything, then you shall receive nothing! Let's see how you do like that!

He slammed the door after himself as he left. In some time, he returned though, when I was already writing the carved notes over by chalk, to be more visible. He only tossed a bottle of water through the door, and left again, without saying a word.

Erik's diary:

15th May, 1881

I had been thinking about what should happen to that thing in the cellar. I should at least check on it today, to find out if it was able to walk or it had already died. I would like the latter option more, as then I would not have to kill it by myself. As it, most definitely cannot stay alive. Erik simply can't allow someone who knows so much about him just to survive.

When I arrived down there, I realized it was still alive, hiding between the wall and the barrel in the corner. I pulled it out from its hiding place, and I got extremely annoyed by the fact it totally thought me an idiot. Oh, little one, Erik had definitely seen many corpses, he had held too much dead bodies to be able to be fooled such a way… did you really think Erik will think you dead and just leave you there?

I wanted to end its miserable existence by a merciful squeeze on its throat, when something caught my eye on the wall next to me.

It looked like sheet music. As I examined it further, I read an unfinished piano piece, a bit of simple, but pleasantly mournful. I had to admit, it did meet my taste, however simple and immature it was. It really sounded like a composition of a student, only getting to know what they want to write, but it was a promising start.

Did you write that?

When I looked at her again, she seemed to be so clueless and frightened that Erik had no heart to harm her any more. Sometimes I don't understand myself. It is so easy to kill a person, but sometimes it is harder than anything else. I had felt this way about that damned Daroga, but I never felt it before about a complete stranger. Erik doesn't care about people, as they don't care about him either… but… it is hard to admit, but this child is too talented to be killed.

Even without candlelight, she ended up carving notes in the brick, and it is strange to say, but I respected her for it. Such a determination! Such a love for music…It is unusual from a young person like her.

I just left her there, and later gave her a box of chalk to work with. Light and writing supplies are needed for composing.

Yet I got angry with the little brat when she did not eat the bread I had given her before. What a picky eater! She should have been thankful, damn it! Well, we see how hungry she will be if she gets nothing to eat for a few days! She will eat her damned chalks!

Judit's POV:

I did not get anything to eat, just as he said, and he halved my fluid intake as well. Only two liters of water I received, which was the healthy dosage for only one day, but I assumed he would not show up the next day to give me another bottle. I was right. He didn't. I was trying to drink only small portions to be able to save up as much water as I could, not knowing when he returns. I was rather licking my mouth if it got too dry. Contrary to not getting any food, I did not get hungry, which fact was weird. I loved to eat otherwise, but since the time- travel took place I wished to have nothing at all. I was only working. I used the whole box of chalk, writing a full piano composition, on two walls up until the height I was able to reach. When I finished it and ran out of chalk, I lay down on the floor as I felt lousy and exhausted.

Sometimes in my half awake, half asleep state of mind, I saw strange shadows on the wall, they were dancing on the sheet music lines, and they were singing silly melodies. Sometimes I could have sworn I heard a simple lullaby played by a music box, and the shadows were laughing sarcastically. The room got smaller and smaller and it was hard to breathe. I was unbearably hot and cold at the same time. Everything hurt. Breathing did hurt the most.

Once I blurry sensed a black thin shadow sitting next to me cross-legged, writing something on a piece of paper. I was too tired to ask anything and wasn't able to concentrate any longer. Everything went black.

Erik's diary:

18th May

I returned to the cellar to see how she was going with the composition, and maybe, if she was in a more thankful mood, I might give her some bread to eat. She must be hungry by now. When I opened the door, I saw the girl stretched out in the center of the room, on the floor. She fell asleep at a weird place, for sure. I did not give much thought about her, as I was examining the music. Yes – yes, quite good. Maybe will be a good enough start for a sonata, or something. I might work on it more. I sat down to write the sheet music down on some papers I carry with me, and did not move until I was finished.

The strange thing was that neither did the little thing.

She was too much silent and too still. Maybe it is not just a simple sleep?

I poked her side for a few times, but she did not lift her head. I shook her for a few times… but nothing happened. I turned her to face the ceiling. Her face was pale, her mouth was open, but her eyes closed shut. I shook her a few more times, and put my ear to her chest to listen… and I heard nothing.

Well, it was what I wanted, certainly. And now that it happened, and I would have no more problems with her, I got scared and felt sorry for the poor thing. I did not mean to…

I did something that I would have never thought I'd do for someone I don't know: I helped her. I only hoped she was dead only for a short period of time, and I prayed to God that I will be able to save her and bring her back to life where she belongs.