So, things are getting intense! Thank you again for all the support! Thank you to those who are still reading and to the new readers. :)

Phantom belongs to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Weber.


Erik was exhausted. He was out of breath and sweat was covering him like a thick blanket. Blood was now running down his chest and soaking the open collar of his previously white shirt. He had a feeling that what he had shared with Christine was too good to be true; it had been beautiful while it lasted but now he had to be punished for it. He wondered where she was. Perhaps she had already left... maybe it was better that she had.

You aren't going to make it out of here.

"How was that?"

Erik looked up. He was tiring of looking at this man.

"Here." A small man walked up to them. Erik recognized him as one of the stage hands at the opera. "Use this." He said with a malicious look in his eyes.

Both Erik and the man in front of him broke eye contact with one another and looked down and what was being held out.

A whip

Erik's eyes widened as his captor looked at him, a sadistic smile on his face.

"No." He said, not entirely realizing that he had voiced his distress. All of his long repressed memories came flooding back to him at the sight of this insentient object and he was that helpless child once again; locked in a cage, humiliated and defiled for public amusement. That cage had been more than just an inanimate object to him; more than just metal bars and hostile stares, for he had lived within a cage since birth. As a child, his house had been his prison- his hostile mother; his jailer. As he grew older he found that the world became his jailer; their taunts and cruel words which almost always led to violence drove him further within himself where he proceeded to build a cage around himself for protection. He had built a fortress, both physical and emotional and only he had the power to demolish it. He had come a long way from being that powerless boy in the gypsy cage and after escaping from that first prison he had promised himself that he would never see that child again.

"No."

No.

"Turn him around." Ordered the leader, satisfied with his victim's reaction.

"No." Erik began to panic. "No!"

"Yes." Said the man.

He finally had his Christine, his Christine. She had chosen him and for the first time his life was filled with possibility and hope. Why did this have to happen now?

They might kill me here tonight.

But I'm not ready to die! Not anymore!

He had lived his whole life in preparation for his demise because he never knew when he might have to face it. A few hours ago he might have accepted his fate with indifference... but not now.

Not now.

Erik began to fight the men once more but despite his struggles he was pushed back into the wall behind him.

"No, no, down there!" the man gestured to the floor. Erik fought still.

"Let... go of me!" He struggled but despite his desperation he was pushed to the floor and held there. He yelled as one of the men sat on him to keep him still. The pain in his body was excruciating and he was sure that his injured rib was going to crack under the pressure. While he wasn't convinced that this particular brand of torture was intentional he was going to make the culprit pay all the same.

They were all going to pay.

The leader must have gestured something to his men because before Erik knew what was happening his shirt was cut from his back and ropes were tied to his wrists. Finally he was able to inhale again as the man who had been sitting on him proceeded to stand up and walk away. Erik began to stand too but was soon knocked back to the ground with a kick to his ribs.

"Get down!" yelled the voice he had been hearing all evening... morning? He had no idea how long he had been here for.

Grimacing, he rose to his knees but was not allowed any further as the ropes around his wrists were pulled tight in opposite directions. He was about to try to stand again but his intentions were cut short as the whip was brought down upon his back, pain ripping through his entire world. It felt as though his back was splitting open.

It was.

He cried out in the pain that he was unable to mask and his own grim memories came flooding back to him once more. He was ten years old again; he was nothing, he was no one and he was lying on that filthy cage floor- scraps for clothing, hay for bedding and rotting food beneath him.

The whip was brought down a second time and he wanted to die. He could hear the laughter around him and yells of encouragement directed at the man with the whip but it all seemed very far away; the only things that seemed real were the pain and the memories that the pain had conjured. His vision was blurred and the whole room seemed to be spinning.

"Stop!" He finally yelled as the whip was brought down a third time, splitting the skin on his back. He detested the fact that he had to voice his discomfort but he was truly unable to hold onto his pride any longer. It was painful yes, but the real torture was being subjected to those long forgotten memories.

Nightmares. Each time he was flayed he could see Javert, his 'master'. He could hear him and smell him and with every strike he was becoming increasingly real. That cage seemed to be forming around him and closing in with each agonizing second.


Christine could stand it no longer. She had no plan of action and Erik had told her to stay where she was but how could he truly expect her to keep her word in a situation such as this? She could hear each and every thing that was happening in that room as each moment passed she grew angrier.

It is not or never.

Adrenalin was pumping through her veins and she was shaking with both anger and anticipation.

You are the only hope he has.

She was about to start towards the illuminated room when someone grabbed her arm.

"Wha...?!" She jumped and spun around, attempting to remove the offending hand only to see Raoul, his familiar face more inviting than usual in the warm light of the torch that he was holding.

"Shhh." The familiar voice cautioned. "It's me. Are you alright?"

"Raoul!" Immediately, without a second thought she embraced him, taking comfort in his warmth, his security; his touch took her back to a safe and happy time...

An ignorant time.

A time that was only a few hours ago, when she was blissfully unaware of the existence of horrors she had witnessed tonight.

You've walked a few hours in the shoes Erik has had to wear his entire life.

"What are you doing here?!" She whispered, trying to focus on the task at hand, the time at hand. He opened his mouth to speak but was silenced as Christine continued. "Never mind, I am so relieved to see you...You cannot imagine..." She cried into his shirt.

"Did he hurt you?!" Raoul asked, quite loudly.

"No! No, of course not. That isn't what I meant." She wiped her tears. "I am relieved because I... I need your help..."

She doesn't want to see you.

"Please... help me save him!"

Him.

He knew exactly who that was. He sighed. "I know. Surely you know that I would not just leave you here... after all... we are engaged..." He paused, hoping to hear or see something that he could count as a positive affirmation from Christine, anything that might indicate her feelings...

Aren't we?

Silence.

Christine's stomach dropped and that sneaking sensation of guilt began to build up inside of her once more. She knew that her silence was not what Raoul wanted but she was not at all equipped to address what he had just said. It seemed that no matter what she did; what she chose she was going to be hurting someone and she could not bear the thought.

After a few moments he decided to speak. If her reply was not what he wanted to hear, he didn't know whether he would have the strength or willpower to save the man in that room; the man who had stolen her away. "...I came back to make sure that you were alright. Clearly, you aren't."

A yell sounded from inside the room.

"Please. Raoul, I... I cannot discuss this now... I cannot bear it; what they are doing to him... I didn't know if I should have gone or stayed here...I have been going out of my mind trying to decide!"

"You made the right decision, Christine. That would have been very foolish indeed."

"Please, what should we do? We need to do something?!" She was becoming hysterical.

"Its alright, I will help him." Raoul replied, plainly. He could not deny Christine anything, even now.

"You... you will?"

"Yes. For you, Christine."

"Thank you." She clumsily hugged him again. He returned the embrace and closed his eyes; he was going to miss this. "For you." He repeated and pulled away.

Not for him.

"Let's go."

Christine didn't know what Raoul had planned and she wasn't in the frame of mind to think sensibly or coherently. All she knew was that she needed to get to Erik as soon as she possibly could. She was blaming herself for every second he spent in there; and with every second she was growing more and more anxious.


The whip came down a forth time. Pain and unwelcome memories overcame Erik and he could not focus on anything else. He had no strength left. He could feel his own blood trickling down his sides; warm and thick.

"Please..." He softly spoke.

"What's that?" his captor leaned towards him, an antagonistic grin in his face. "Was that a please? From you? Never thought that i would hear you say it... But answer me this; why should i spare you any pain when you didn't give those you murdered a second thought?!" He stood up again. "Why?!"

Erik remained silent. What could he say? What words could he possibly choose that would improve his situation? He wasn't going to apologize for his actions. No matter what they did to him, they would not get that.

At least Christine is safe.

"We aren't done with you, though." He continued, stepping back and raising his whip once more. Erik closed his eyes, preparing himself for more pain. Just as he was about to bring the lash down on upon his victim a fifth time, he heard a commanding voice to his right.

"Stop." It said. Erik looked up with what little strength he had left.

The Vicomte?!