Chapter Two: The Ring.

I was utterly horrified! I can't even begin to describe how, well, pissed off I was. For a start, the woman I loved, still love and always will love, had just had a near rape experience and I had done nothing, nothing at all to prevent it happening! One part of me, whom I was extremely ashamed of, told me to move on. "She deserves it. Look at what she has done to you. Leave her, move on…" But I couldn't! Not like this! As much as I was a monster I was going to be so, well, monstrous. I'd rather be beaten to mangled pulp than let them have her, whether she was Comtess or not.

Emerging from the shadows, blind with rage, I pulled from my cloak my Punjab lasso. Holding the noose with gloved hands, I moved towards the pair of fiends taking large strides. In no time I was behind the tall idiot who was bobbing his head like that of fowl. He must have felt my presence as he turned, mouth gaped. It didn't take long for me to quietly take him round the corner to deal with him… leaving the body, I made my way towards the stouter man, the one whom I decided to make suffer as much as possible. The ugly brute was making his way to Christine.

"You dirty whore! Look what you did, you're going tae pay for that, you will-"

But I made sure he didn't finish his offensive profane sentence. I had appeared to his side and as I looked into his wide watery eyes I saw my own reflection. How angry my eyes were. They shone through the eyeholes of the mask, flickering gold.

"Fuck! Who the hell are you?" he demanded, springing back.

I felt fairly tempted to say something dramatic along the lines of "Your worst nightmare." But instead, I decided to silence him. After all, this was no melodrama. Making sure Christine, who looked fairly unconscious, didn't see the murder take place, as I reckoned she had seen enough violence to damage her pure innocence, I dragged the brute round the corner were his friend has met his fate.

After a few minutes I returned round the corned to approach Christine. I was tempted to flee but even then I knew she wouldn't be safe. The world was a cruel place and only then did she taste it. Taste the bitterness, the corruption and cruelty. How I wanted to shield her from the world. It had been a mercy she survived. If she had died I would have died with her. As much as I hated her, as much as I wanted to leave her for dead I couldn't. I was so weak! I couldn't bring myself to leave her. Maybe she was already dead?

I took a few small paces towards her. She lay against the wall, her light blue skirts flowing in all directions while delicate lily-white hands lay limply at each side. Her head was almost tossed against the wall, looking upwards to the night's sky. The moon cast sweet rays on her darling face. Rose bud lips were opened, but only slightly. It was hard to tell if she was still breathing. Her hem hardly moved and I was scared I lost her. Love locks were laid on her breasts, and from what I saw, I could tell the brutes had ripped her lovely frock, revealing a little more of her chest which was expected from a lady. No matter, she still looked acceptable, even if she had been knocked about a little. God? Was this a joke?

I swept past her bonnet, which lay neglected on the cobbles. Moving towards her I could make out slight movement, much to my relief.

I observed with a heavy heart that her fingers were ring-less. No ring. Nothing. It surprised me but then again it was probable the fiends had taken the ring or it has been lost. I was now so close to her. I towered above her, looking down on her beauty. Kneeling, I took her tiny hand in my larger gloved hand and checked her pulse, trying my best to look at the situation from a medical and professional point of view. This was of course, very difficult to do as so many emotions stopped me from making the task a simple one.

As I looked closer I noticed a very fine chain around her neck. It held, much to my joy and relief the ring. Our ring. Not the Comte's ring. It was my ring around her ivory neck. I forgave her all in an instant for her misconduct towards me. As much as I still felt bitter towards her I forgave her. I loved her. If she loved me, there was no need for her to say sorry. Loving someone means never needing to say sorry. Yet, it was early days and as I took her pulse I was already becoming too hopeful. No doubt the Comte was in his little carriage, waiting for her and my ring was simply kept because it looked nice… or something that simply mocked me. I dare say it flattered her. I was dead to her? Was I not? As soon as I took her somewhere safe, I could just leave her and be gone of her forever.

There was a flutter of lashes while lids opened. Her pleasant peaceful face suddenly screwed up in pain. Her brow furrowed whiles her lips (which I had noticed were stained with the blood of her victim. I really hadn't expected her to fight back, then again I had done nothing to help her) twisted. She had winced in pain before sighing and closing her eyes again. She took no notice of me, which I much approved of. Her face was now very pleasant again and as she opened her blue bewildered eyes, I noticed her put a small hand to her side. After her eyes adjusted, she looked at me in way I couldn't interpret and whispered "Erik?"

Nodding and indicating her to be silent I replied, "Yes." It was fine while she was unconscious but now my hatred returned to me. I had become tempted to leave her again. She tried to muster the energy to get up but as she was unable, I let her take my hand, though I felt very bitter about being so polite afterwards.

She seemed perfectly healthy. Getting up gracefully she stood for a minute or so, simply staring at me in silence. I was also reserved, looking into her bright eyes. The light breeze rippled my cloak as he ringlets were rocked to and fro. I believe we would have stared into each other's eyes forever had it not been for her suddenly staggering and grabbing her side. I was prepared for her to fall to her knees, but she stood wavering. There was something very, very wrong. Her eyes looked to me for some guidance, some reassurance. Lips moved, saying some inaudible plea for help by the looks of it. Eventually she caved in and fell forward. I moved towards to catch her, and as I held her in my arms I suddenly felt a pang of remorse for hating her so.

"Christine…" I saw quietly, shaking slightly. Lowering a hand to catch her hand, I felt something roll over my glove and fall to the ground with a "drip". Raising the hand to eye level I observed the metallic red. She was bleeding. On later examination I learned she had been stabbed. This was serious; she would have bleed to death if I had done nothing. Her lids were closed and her face grew pale. The rosy tint to her cheeks faded. Gently supporting her head, I picked her up in my arms. She was still very light. Pulling her closer to me, I looked for the quickest exit of this forsaken place. Making sure to watch out for the fresh corpses, encase there was any "misunderstandings", I took her to the safest place I had ever come know. The Opera House.