The poor girl was tremendously overtired. The phantom, after finally finding his way through the streets of Paris, had to resort to carrying her to the Operahouse and down to his own home. She was fast asleep the second she was lifted up into his arms.
The phantom found that, despite the seemingly bothersome attitude of the girl, he did not mind. She was really very light, most likely because she probably had never had a decent meal in her life.
But the phantom marveled at the trust the girl had placed in him. Years of hiding had taken away all of the phantom's social skills (not that he had any to begin with), and permitted him to think that no one could ever like a monster such as himself. But here was a prime example of how he was wrong. The girl, in his arms, trusted him.
The phantom felt a feeling a pride sweep over him. This girl did not fear him, but believed that he would keep her safe. The phantom smiled down at the girl and wondered how the young girl could have instilled such feelings in him.
But when he reached his domain, the girl suddenly began to wake up. She sighed and opened her eyes to see that the phantom was staring down at her. The girl smiled shyly, as he let her down from his arms. She mumbled her thanks and looked at her surroundings.
The girl gasped loudly. She turned to the stranger and looked at him, her eyes now wide-awake and full of wonder. "Do you really live here Monsieur?" she asked happily, too excited to be shy.
The phantom couldn't help but chuckle at the girl's child-like behavior. But he really couldn't blame her; she probably didn't have much time to act like a child before becoming a form of entertainment. So he nodded silently to her question.
The girl grinned. "Oh Monsieur, it's so beautiful!" she cried. The phantom smiled. "I rather hoped you would like it, seeing as you'll be living here as well for a while," he said to her.
And instantly, the girl's grin dropped from her face in shock. She stood still, staring at the man, surprise written all over her face. "Pardon, Monsieur?" she asked quietly.
The phantom smiled fully this time. "You heard me my dear. I said you would be living here. Surely you didn't think I would just drop you off in the middle of nowhere?"
The girl, upon hearing his response, grinned largely once more. "Oh Monsieur! Thank you so much! Thank you Monsieur!" she exclaimed, leaping forward to wrap her arms around his waist in an embrace.
The phantom, not used to the feeling of another human being so close, stiffened uncomfortably. The girl, quickly realizing this, let him go and stood back, a frown on her small face.
"Monsieur, surely, in this light, you can see why I am considered the Devil's Child. Surely my eyes frighten you Monsieur, and you wish for me to disappear?" she said quietly, regretting her show of affection. Certainly this man was also regretting his decision to let her stay in his home.
But the phantom sighed sadly. "Do you remember when I told you that I was also the Devil's Child when I was younger?" he asked, and the girl nodded.
"Would you care to know why?" he whispered. The girl nodded once more, and took a deep breath, preparing for the worst.
And when the phantom slowly took his mask off, trying not to scare the girl anymore than necessary, she let out her breath quickly. The man, once his mask was off, shut his eyes tightly, not wishing to see the girl's reaction. No doubt she would scream, and fear him, but he did not wish to see it in her strange eyes.
But suddenly, he jumped in surprise, feeling a small and cold hand on his deformed cheek. His eyes flew open and he found the girl's face quite close to his. She smiled and the phantom tried to find the fear he hadn't wanted to see. But for some reason, he could not find it.
The girl continued to run her fingers over his deformed skin delicately, as if not to cause him any harm. And the phantom realized that the girl wasn't afraid of him. That she was touching him out of curiosity, and she didn't recoil in disgust. The girl must still be very tired, he thought at first.
So the phantom sighed and captured her hand in his large one, bringing it down so that he could kiss her fingertips. He made to return the mask to his face when he was done.
"NO!" the girl's voice cried out, interrupting him. He narrowed his eyes in confusion at the girl's outburst. She bit her lip and made to grab the mask from his hands, but his grip remained tight.
"Please Monsieur, I don't want you to hide your face from me. I want you to keep the mask off," she told him.
The phantom reeled back in surprise, the mask dropping from his hand and landing on the floor next to his feet. "What?" he exclaimed, bewilderment lacing his tone.
The girl beamed. "I want to see your face Monsieur. Not just half of it, but all of it," she repeated. The phantom furrowed his eyebrows. "Why?" he asked next.
The girl giggled quietly. "Monsieur, you're really not as hideous as you think. I think you're actually quite handsome. And besides, it's not fair that you get to hide your face when I can't do anything about my eyes," the girl explained innocently.
The phantom let out a shaky laugh. "Yes, not fair at all Mademoiselle," he said quietly. And then he bent down and picked his mask up from the floor. But he did not place it back on his face. Rather, he turned it over and over again in his fingers as if thinking about his options. He looked back up at the girl in front of him.
"Do you know your name?" he asked gently, remembering the time when he hadn't a name either. The girl bit her lip. "They called me Lucia," she whispered.
Instantly, the phantom grew livid. His eyebrows furrowed and his face darkened in anger. "They call you what?" he hissed.
The girl's eyes grew wide at the sudden change in behavior and she drew back a few steps. But the phantom took a few steps forward so that he could grab her arms in his iron-tight grip. The girl gasped. "Monsieur! Please, stop Monsieur!" she shrieked.
But the phantom could not get past his anger. "How dare they call you the Devil! You do not look half as bad as I do, and yet they call you that! Despicable people. I swear, I will kill every single one of them," he murmured, but loud enough so that the girl could hear him. Her heart skipped a beat out of fright. What was this man thinking?
She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but it only caused her more pain, so she stopped, her breathing labored. She was shaking uncontrollably, and the man would still not let her go while he whispered now incoherent nonsense under his breath.
"Monsieur! You're hurting me!" the girl cried out, hoping to get his attention. And this time, it did work. The phantom eyes grew wide when he realized what he was doing, and how tight his grip was. He instantly let her go, as if she was burning him. The girl fell to the ground in a heap. Instantly, she started sobbing.
The phantom blinked. What had he done? Why had he reacted in that way? He eyed the girl on the ground and felt the guilt well up inside of him. She was crying because of what he had done. He had scared her. Not with his face, but with his anger. He knelt down beside the girl and laid a hand on her shoulder.
The girl jumped in fright, allowing her strange eyes, now filled with tears, to meet his own gaze. She trembled and looked back down at the ground, afraid to look anywhere else. What had she gotten herself into?
"My pet, I am so sorry," he choked out. "I… didn't mean to hurt you. I… don't know what came over me. Please, I'm so sorry," he said softly, his hand rubbing her thin back. The girl eyed him warily.
"I was just so angry. Those people are disgusting and unfeeling; they infuriate me to no end, " he explained, noticing how her sobbing seemed to cease slowly.
The girl sniffled and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, still eying him cautiously. The phantom bit his lip. "I never learned how to control my anger very well. I never had to, what with living alone for fifteen years. But I promise, if you choose to stay, I will never hurt you ever again," he said gently, brushing her uneven hair away from her face. The girl flinched when his hands touched her skin.
The phantom swallowed and took his hand away. "I'm sorry," he whispered, getting up from his knees and turned to walk away.
The girl looked up at the man as he walked away. She was still frightened, but she felt that his words were the truth. And besides, she had nowhere else to go. She would just have to be particularly careful not to get him angry, and to stay away when he was. So the girl took in a deep breath and called to him.
"Monsieur, what is your name?" she asked softly. But the phantom still heard her. He turned to face her, his eyes confused. Why would she want to know that?
The man sighed and watched as she sat up on the floor. "My name is Erik," he answered quietly.
The girl smiled weakly. "Monsieur Erik, if you will permit me, I would like to stay here," she told him, making up her mind resolutely.
The phantom reeled back in surprise, blinking at the girl in surprise. "What?" he asked. He realized that the girl was full of surprises. The girl gulped. "But on one condition," she added.
The phantom shook his head in confusion. "What are you talking about?" The girl couldn't help but giggle slightly at his tone. "I want to stay Monsieur Erik, but only if you keep your mask off."
The phantom didn't say anything for the longest time. He watched the girl stand up from the ground and meet his gaze, waiting for an answer. He sighed. "How old are you?" he asked curiously.
Now it was the girl's turn to be surprised. She hadn't been expecting that, but she answered him all the same. "I think I'm sixteen Monsieur."
The phantom shut his eyes and nodded. "Alright, I'll keep it off," he agreed. And when he opened his eyes, he met her grinning face and couldn't help but smirk. "Oh thank you Monsieur!" she said happily.
The phantom shook his head in bafflement at the girl's sudden change in behavior. "Come, I believe you are very tired. Let me show you to your room," he said softly and grabbed her hand gently, leading her towards the back of his underground home.