Hello again after I think after a week or two long absence! Finals are over, classes are finished, and I am officially now a college graduate! I'm so happy! I've moved about home for a bit and taking this week to get readjusted and situated while looking for jobs, but until then I shall continue to write as often as I can! Thank you for all the feedback and patience, and now I present to you the newest chapter!


"It's in your soul where the true distortion lies."

-The Phantom of The Opera

Her head hurt. Tris groaned as she slowly awoke, her head throbbing with pain as if someone were banging it like a drum. Why did her pillow feel so hard? Almost as if it felt like…stone?

Her eyes flew open as a sudden memory filled her brain.

"Please…it had to have been a nightmare…" she whispered to herself. But as her eyes slowly took in the dim light that was all around her, she could see that her nightmare was more terrifying than she thought possible.

Bars. Before her she saw nothing but cold iron bars. She was in a cage.

"No…" she whispered, quickly rising to her feet and gripping the hard metal with her tiny fists.

"Hello?" she cried, banging on the bars, knowing she could not pry them apart, yet still her body tried. "Someone? Please? HELP ME! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?"

She continued banging on the bars, praying that someone somewhere…other than the Phantom, would hear her cries. The Phantom. She trembled as she remembered him, standing before her, clad in black, darker than midnight, save for his black mask. Why did he wear a mask? Was it to enhance the terror his reputation had already sent forth? Or…was it something far more sinister? She recalled some of the stories she heard the ballet girls chattering about when Madame Wu was not present. Stories about the Phantom and his terrifying face.

However, his face was the least of her worries. Her father! The Phantom had her father removed…but where? Did he release him as he had ordered? Or was it all a trick? A trick to have his revenge on her father while still keeping her for…

Her stomach twisted in knots at the thought, and she felt the bile rise slightly.

No, she would not let any man have her, not that way, never! She would kill herself before it happened! Or kill him…

"There must be a way out of here," she muttered, stepping away from the bars and examining her prison. Was there a door? She could not see one, but there had to be one! She peered all around her, noticing for the first time hanging racks filled with nothing but elaborate costumes…costumes that she realized had long since been forgotten. Perhaps there was a door behind the racks! She pushed through the fabric, trying to see if she could find anything, when a loud thump startled her. Tris whirled around to where the noise had come from, peering out past the bars, but saw no one.

"Hello?" she asked the air with a shaky voice. She could hear breathing, but saw no one! "Is someone there?"

Nothing…

And then, "SHE'S AWAKE!"

Tris screamed as a large hunchback emerged from the shadows out of nowhere, his brown baggy thick face pressed against the bars.

"She's awake! She's…" he stopped when he realized Tris was screaming, and then he too, started screaming.

"Uriah! Stop it at once!" Two figures cried, one entering the same way the hunchback did, and the other coming down from the cavern walls and landing with a loud CLANK.

The first figure appeared female, with a shaved head and golden-brown eyes, a delicate nose and full lips, with an eyebrow piercing; however, Tris wasn't sure if she should call- whatever she or he was because he or she whose curvy body appeared to be split down the middle, one side female and the other male. Tris continued to scream as second figure gripped the bars of her cage with his mechanical hands, half of his body appearing to be like a regular man's body, but the other half was half machine.

"Will, make them shut the hell up before the entire Opera House hears them!" The he/she figure hissed, covering both ears to block out the noise.

"I'm trying!" The clockwork-like man turned to Tris, biting his lip with worry. "Please don't scream mademoiselle, you'll only frighten Uriah more!"

Uriah continued screaming, his cry terrifying and sharp, causing the cavern ceiling to shake.

"Uriah!" as if on cue, all the noise stopped, as a woman with burns and stitches with a limp and languid walk emerged, throwing her shroud off and immediately coming to the hunchback's side to comfort him.

"There, there. Hey, it's okay," she whispered. "It's alright, you just startled her is all, she's not terrified of you…she won't hurt you…"

Tris stared in bewilderment at the three figures that were outside her cage. A woman who looks like a living ragdoll, a hunchback, a woman who was- well half woman and half man, and a man who was almost machine and clockwork; they were all…

"Freaks," the doll woman said out loud, as if reading Tris' thoughts.

"We accept it," she sighed, finally calming Uriah down to where he curled himself up into a ball and rocked himself back and forth, staring at Tris behind the bars. Satisfied, the woman turned and did a small curtsy.

"My name is Marlene," she greeted warmly. "And this is Will and Lynn," she added, indicating the man who gave a friendly smile, and a wave with his mechanical arm, while Lynn gave a weary glance.

"And…well, you've met Uriah," Marlene said with a smile, rubbing a small hand over the hunchback's arm.

"So you can stop looking at us like we're about to attack you," Lynn rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. Marlene gave her a disapproving glare, but Lynn ignored it and looked away.

Tris was at a loss for words; she didn't know what to say! "W-w-who…h-how…"

Will cleared his throat and began to speak.

"We work for the Master, and…were told to keep watch for when you woke up," he explained.

"The Master?" Tris asked, staring at the four of them. "Do you mean…the Phantom?"

Will, Lynn, and Marlene exchanged glances.

"Well," Will muttered. "That is one name…but he prefers 'master'."

Despite the unbelievable chaos of the situation, Tris' face contorted to one of anger at the words.

"He is no master of me," she hissed, before turning her face away to hide the angry tears that threatened to show.

Marlene sighed and approached the cage with sympathy. "Please do not despair…the Master is truly good-"

"GOOD?" Tris whirled around at the words.

"Good? He imprisoned my father! He threatened to kill us! I'M IN A GODDAMN CAGE!" she shouted, rushing to the bars and beating them with her fists.

"He has a temper, but he's not all bad," Will tried to concede. "Why don't you give him a chance-"

"A chance?!" Tris screamed. "I don't want to give him a chance! I don't want anything to do with him! He's nothing more than a monster!"

The four figures stepped back and Uriah whimpered. Marlene immediately placed a calming hand on the hunchback's arm and his whimpering ceased. The girl was right; the Master behaved like a monster earlier, so how else would she think of him?

Tris stared at the figures then turned away, sitting on the rocky ground and tucking her legs up under her chin. Marlene gazed upon the girl's crumpled form, sighed, and turned to the others.

"Why don't you both go and wait for the Master to return." Lynn and Will took the hint and urged Uriah to follow.

"Goodbye gypsy girl!" Uriah said somewhat happily, before turning and leaving with Will and Lynn.

Tris turned her head slightly to watch as the trrio left. Marlene smiled softly, although her eyes were filled with utmost sympathy.

"Uriah loves the story of The Hunchback of Notre Dame…I confess, I asked Will to change the ending somewhat for him…now whenever he sees a beautiful girl, he thinks she's Esmeralda," she chuckled softly. Tris still remained frozen.

"My dear-"

"Please," Tris whispered, "Just…just leave me alone."

Marlene bit her lip. "Would you like me to bring you something hot to drink? Are you hungry? I-"

"Please just go," Tris whispered again, curling herself up into a tiny ball and hugging her legs even closer than before. Marlene sighed and lowered her head in defeat. Time was what the girl needed most.

"Here, in case you get cold," she whispered, pushing a wool blanket through the bars. Tris didn't say a word, she simply lay where she was. Marlene sighed and began to walk away. Yet she stopped, paused, and turned one more time.

"I just…I just wanted to say…that I think what you did was extremely brave. I don't think many people would have been able to do what you did…" Tris didn't respond at all. Marlene gave a soft smile, tears threatening her own eyes, before turning and leaving the girl alone in her cage of iron and despair.

For the longest time she lay there, still as a mouse, listening to her surroundings, listening for the agonizing sound of footsteps. Yet none came. She turned her head slightly, looking around her dim surroundings (a single torch illuminated the cavern, which hung near the cavern's only entrance), and satisfied that she was truly alone, sprung to her feet and frantically began to look for a way out.

Somewhere…I know there is a door here somewhere! She pushed through the layers of dusty cob-webbed covered costumes, coughing and sneezing here and there, desperately seeking the way out of her prison. And then…at last, hiding behind a large heavy black drape, she found it…the tiny door that kept her and freedom apart.

It was locked, as she suspected, but that didn't matter. She would get out, and she was quite determined! She grabbed the last hairpin she had, causing her already loose hair to fall completely down her back and shoulders, and set to work. She had to hurry, for she could hear, ever so softly, the last chorus of the opera being sung.


"HEY! GET OUT OF HERE! THIS IS NO PLACE FOR DRUNKARDS OR BEGGARS!"

Andrew gasped in pain as he felt a sharp thick boot kick him hard in his side. He glanced up, his eyes red and swollen, seeing a man in a maroon uniform glare down at him. He immediately recognized the uniform as belonging to one of the doormen of the Opera House. Why was he outside the Opera House, and why was this man kicking him and urging him to move along?

And then it all came back.

"BEATRICE!" Andrew cried, quickly rising as fast as his frail legs would allow. "My daughter! You must help me!" he wailed, gripping the lapels of the doorman's coat. "He has her! He has my daughter!"

"GET OFF!" the doorman shouted, shoving Andrew away. "And move on before I call the police!"

Police? Yes! That was exactly what he needed!

"Yes! Please! We must get the police at once! I must find my son and I need to speak with the manager Max and David, they will help me, I know it!" The doorman stopped Andrew and shoved him again, this time sending the man to the ground.

"GET OUT OF HERE YOU DRUNKEN FOOL!" he clenched his fist in a threatening manner, and Andrew suddenly realized in his panic that this man was not going to let him by. The man didn't know him, and Andrew looked at his own tattered and mud-caked clothes and knew it was a lost cause. Who would believe that he was an employee of the Paris Opera House?

"Are you deaf, man? I SAID GO!" Andrew quickly sprung to his feet before the doorman had the opportunity to kick him again with his boot.

"WAIT! STOP!" Someone called out. Andrew looked over the doorman's shoulder and saw Caleb running out of the grand front doors. He reached his father's side and tore the doorman's hand off of his shoulder. "Wait monsieur please! There's been a misunderstanding-"

"What is the meaning of this?!" The doorman sneered at the pianist. "You know this man?"

"He's my father and the administrative assistant for the Opera House!" Caleb conceded. "Please, let him pass! The managers have been looking for him!"

The doorman eyed the duo with disgusted suspicion and scoffed. "Fine! Take him! But don't' let this be a repetitive occurrence!"

Caleb and Andrew quickly scampered up the stairs and back into the Opera House, hearing the doorman's threats behind him. Once standing inside the grand lobby, Caleb turned to his father with a sigh of relief.

"Thank God you're alright. How did you escape-" He said, but noticed lack of a female presence beside his father's side. That was when he noticed his father's stricken face. "Where's Beatrice-"

"Beatrice…" Andrew panicked and gripped his son's shoulders. "He has her! She went down there and he took her! Why did you leave me?! Why did you let go on her own?"

"She's with the Phantom?!" Caleb gasped. "How did this happen?! Madame Wu sent her home! How could you let her stay with the Phantom-"

"HOW COULD I?!" Andrew bellowed, catching the attention of passing passerby of patrons and opera servants. "HOW COULD I?! HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME WITH HIM?! NOW BECAUSE YOUR SISTER RISKED HER LIFE TO GO DOWN THERE SHE'S HIS PRISONER! H-how- how could I have allowed her to stay… what kind of father am I?"

Andrew slid down to the marbled floor on his knees, sobbing and gripping his face with his hands. Caleb, guilt-stricken and knowing the entire predicament was his fault, looked at his father with a heavy heart. Looking around at the gaping audience they were receiving at the grand hall, Caleb quickly helped Andrew back onto his feet and gripped his shoulders again.

"We don't have time to decide who takes the blame. We can't lose our heads right now," Calev reasoned in an attempt to sober the man up. "Right now we need to think of a plan to get her back and find someone who can help us."

Andrew looked miserably at his son and nodded his head in agreement. He knew Caleb was right. They had to find someone else who would help them…but who? Would the police believe them? No, they needed someone of a higher station who knew them, someone who would help them find a way to get Tris back! But who? Who had such influence to help a grieving father?


"And…remember the way she paused, because there was supposed to be…that piano solo!" laughed a well-dressed gentleman, before taking another drink from his brandy glass.

A small group of men erupted with laughter, each pounding one another on the back, lighting cigars, and drinking brandy as the minutes ticked by.

"That was priceless…" another man chuckled. "Oh Tobias, you sure picked a good star! At least we all now have something to entertain us at that bloody place!"

Tobias gave a small trying smile to his friend's comment, his fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose as he inwardly dealt with his irritation. The evening was somewhat short of horrible. At least the horridness disappeared when Jeanine wasn't on stage. Unfortunately, there were only three scenes in the whole opera when she made no appearance. And despite the money he was making off her name and so-called talents, he hated feeling like a fool, which was exactly what his friends were doing.

"She reminded me of my dog," one man added. "Except I think that bitch can actually hit a proper note!" the others burst out laughing, while Tobias simply glared.

"Oh come now Tobias," a dark-haired man chuckled. "Despite the woman's less than spectacular performance, the evening was a success."

"Here, here!" the others crowed.

"Indeed!" the dark-haired man continued. "No doubt, thanks to our friend Norton," he said, lifting his glass in the direction of a gentleman who was sitting with them, "who as we all know has such a high influence with the papers, a good review will be published and more people will come to see the woman, and more money will be placed in our pockets! See? Everyone wins!"

Tobias gave a glare to his friend, but then a smile spread across his face.

"Indeed, you are right Drew," he said, raising his glass. "To Jeanine Matthews and the money she will bring to us all…was I not right to encourage you to invest with the Opera?"

The men chuckled. "Indeed, except for poor Albert, who only goes because his wife insists!"

Al gave the others a glare. "How else am I to convince her that I'm not going out every night to be with my mistress? I swear the woman has spies following me!"

"Oh who gives a damn what the woman thinks," Drew grumbled. "It's your own bloody fault that you got married in the first place!"

"I needed an heir!" Al defended.

"Don't we all?" Norton added. "Yet you don't hear the rest of us who are married complaining. Why? Because we know who is the head of our households, and it's not our bloody wives!" several other men cheered to Norton's words and lifted their glasses in a toast.

"Too true," Drew added, lighting another cigar. "Really Al, the next thing you're going to tell us that she insists that you actually give her pleasure when you're fucking her!"

"If she lets you," Norton added. The men burst out laughing while Al turned a bright red.

"Leave the man alone," Tobias interjected, although he had been laughing along with the others. "The point of a mistress is so that you don't have to sleep your wife! And Al is the only one who's future is secure with at least two heirs."

"Legitimate heirs," Al grumbled.

"Here, here," Norton chuckled.

"Speaking of mistresses," Drew commented, "How does it go with the dried up soprano?"

Tobias was sipping his brandy when he heard the words. He glared from the rim of his glass at his friend, but forced a polite smile.

"She still serves her purposes," he simply said. "And you good man? Still pursuing young male falsettos?"

Drew turned a deep shade of red while the other men burst out laughing. Tobias couldn't help but grin wickedly.

"Come now Drew," he muttered with a cigar between his lips. "We are all friends, are we not?"

Drew forced a smile at the Vicomte. "Actually, I have met a delicious ballet girl by the name of Molly. Very buxom for a dancer, and has a mouth like you wouldn't believe…not to mention a throat…"

The others were leaning in close, practically drooling at the man's words. "And she tells me Tobias, that you've been seen attempting to…seduce the new costume girl?"

The other men turned to the Vicomte with surprised looks. "A costume girl? Tobias, I distinctly remember you saying how the lowest a man could sink was with a chorus girl…but a costume girl? What has fucking Jeanine done to you?"

Before Tobias could speak, Drew continued. "Not only has he been seen attempting to lure this girl to his bed-"

"-or lounge," A; chuckled.

"But it seems that…could it be…the costume girl has spurned you?"

The others stared in horror. "Tobias…if a mere costume girl spurns you…there's no hope for the rest of us."

"She did not SPURN me!" Tobias growled, chewing on his cigar. "And I will have that girl…and if you had seen this woman, you'd understand why she's worth the pursuit! Luscious curves, full breasts, an ample bottom that's never felt anything other than the fabric of her undergarments…not to mention nimble little fingers that could grip anything hard and thick…"

Now the men were drooling at Tobias' description. Drew snorted with disgust, causing the trance to break.

"Point being that you haven't succeeded in bedding her," he grumbled. "Now, if you'll excuse me gentlemen, I am meeting the delectable Molly who is going to introduce me to one of her dear little friends, and the three of us are going to go back to my apartment for a private party, while you sorry lot sit here and smoke cigars with one another. Good evening," he said, before tipping his hand and heading towards the door.

Yet the second Drew reached it, two men, one young and one old, looking frantic, burst inside, crying the Vicomte's name.

"The Vicomte de Sevoy? We're looking for the Vicomte? Have you seen him? Anyone? Please!"

Drew looked at Tobias from across the room, and Tobias rose to his feet, locking eyes with his friend before looking at the newly unexpected arrived guests.

"Please! I have to find him! He can help us, I know it! I-MONSIEUR LE VICOMTE!" Andrew rushed to Tobias' side and practically fell to his knees with Caleb following from behind.

"Monsieur, you must help me! Please! He has her! He's taken her! WE MUST GET THE POLICE AT ONCE!"

"Who are you?" Tobias asked in disgust, moving away from the lunatic that had fallen at his feet. He glanced at the young man who appeared to be embarrassed for the both of them. "Both of you?"

Andrew glanced up, surprised by the Vicomte's words, not to mention his tone. Yet he was covered in mud and dirt, he was probably unrecognizable.

"Why it's me monsieur, Monsieur Prior? And my son, Caleb? We work for the Opera House. You once complimented my son on his playing on the piano."

"Did I?" Tobias asked, lifting an eyebrow. "I confess, I do not remember speaking to people like you…but then the Opera House is filled with many…" he looked Andrew and Caleb up and down before removing his scented handkerchief and lifting it to his nose. "Anyway, why do you come here sir, interrupting the merriment of my club in such a distressed state?"

"Monsieur le Vicomte, there's been an emergency. You must help us-" Caleb tried to intervene and explain before things got worse until his father got in the way in hysterics.

"HE HAS HER MONSIEUR! WE MUST SAVE HER! PLEASE!" Andrew was gripping the Vicomte's evening coat, holding on for dear life, praying that this man would believe him and Caleb.

The Vicomte was overwhelmed by the stench the man was in, and managed to push the feeble man off him, coughing at the smell.

"Remove him from here," he muttered to some of the staff who had come to see what the commotion was all about.

"NO! Monsieur, my daughter is Beatrice! The costume girl! You have spoken with her, on several occasions, am I not correct? Please! You must help me get her back!"

"Father stop, you're not making this any better! Monsieur, please let me explain-"

"Alright that's it! It's time for the both of you to leave!" one of the staff members grumbled, dragging the Prior men away.

Tobias rolled his eyes. "Get her back from whom?"

"THE PHANTOM! THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA!"

There was a brief moment of silence, before the whole room burst into laughter. Everyone save for the Vicomte. He hated talk about the Phantom. It was a myth that was created by drunk stagehand Edgar, but he hated how it continued to live on, and how there were those that felt it necessary to make the myth seem real by sending threats and demands, not to mention the hysteria several people at the Opera House had over the silly ghost stories.

"Get them out of here," Tobias growled, before sitting back down at his table and taking a long drink from his glass.

"NO! MONSIEUR, PLEASE! HE HAS HER! WE MUST SAVE HER!"

"Your daughter probably ran off with a stage hand to offer him her so-called virginity. I mean what can one except from a costume girl?" Tobias' offhand comment was greeted by hysterical laughter, and Andrew and Caleb stared in horror at the Vicomte as he was dragged away and thrown out onto the street.

"STAY OUT!" they shouted at him, before slamming the door in his face.

Andrew stared at the closed doors, the horrible words ringing in his ears. The one man who he thought cared for his daughter was a cad…and he and his son were truly alone. The managers had laughed them off, fired them, and wouldn't see them, no one would let them back inside the Opera House, and now its most powerful patron had abandoned them as well…not to mention had turned out to be snake.

"That's it then. There's nothing else we can do," Caleb bemoaned. "We've lost her forever."

"No we haven't! I'll go to the police myself!" Andrew said with determination. "I have to save her…I must!"


Tori had waited till the theater was practically empty, save for a few stage hands that were cleaning up. She had urged Christina to go home with several friends and explained she had some important matters to discuss with the managers. Now that she was alone, she made her way towards the secret door that she always used to gain access to the secret labyrinth of the Phantom.

Yet the door was locked. It had never been locked before, it was a secret passage that only she and Eric knew how to open! And only Erik had the power to lock it…

"Good evening madam," Eric greeted coldly as always.

Tori whirled around, staring at the shadows in front of her, before seeing the tall masked figure image from the darkness. "Eric! W-w-what are you doing up here!"

"I may feel free to move about my theater however I please," he explained, before extending an envelope to the woman. "Here is a note I wish you to give to my dear managers. It's rather thick…due to all the corrections they need to make before the next performance."

Tori stared up at Eric, his face always unreadable, mask or no mask. "Perhaps the performance would have been better if a certain pianist was present."

Eric snorted. "He arrived a few minutes late and I highly doubt it…that harpy can butcher anything, from a simple scale of notes to the most beautiful opera composed. No concert piano solo would have saved the evening."

"What about the father? Where is he Eric?" Tori asked, feeling her body shake with fury. She hated these games, he only said such things to prolong the agony, like a cat that had caught a mouse, but was merely playing with it before killing the wretched creature.

Eric had been pacing when the conversation began, yet now stood frozen, his grey eyes catching the ballet mistress'.

"You know my rules," he growled.

"Eric, please! They didn't mean you any harm, and you know it! Let Monsieur Prior, he's barely been here long enough to know anything about you! He-"

"THEN IT WAS HIGH TIME HE FOUND OUT!" the Phantom barked, retreating to the shadows, his cape billowing behind him. Yet he had not gone. Tori could still hear his breathing, could still feel his presence in the small space.

"Is he dead?" she asked, her voice heavy with weariness. How could she approach Tris and Caleb with such news? "Eric?"

"You know my rules, madam."

"DAMN YOUR RULES ERIC! IS THE MAN DEAD?" she had had enough of this nonsense.

There was a long pause, so long that Tori wasn't sure if he was still there or not. Eric had the uncanny ability to move about like…well, for lack of better words, a ghost. Unseen, unheard, yet very present. All of sudden, a hand shot out in the dark and grabbed her by the neck. With a gasping strangled cry, Tori could feel Eric roughly drag her over to the chasm and dangle in the cold open air with just his arm. He was strong, and Tori knew that Eric had the power to just snap her with just one hand or just let her go and let the fall kill her as her body hit the sharp and ragged rocky ground. She dangled her feet, hoping to reach the solid surface or anything to keep her balanced. Finally, the silence and her train of gasping for air was broken.

"You forget yourself," She could hear him hiss from the shadows. "You forget that I allow you to enter my world. You forget that you are a guest…and you forget that I have the power to control whether those booby traps that you pass so easily go off or not. I do not take orders from you…and I do not answer questions unless I wish to."

Tori saw black spots in her vision as felt a cold shiver run up and down her body and the way her throat was constricting from Eric's hold on her neck . Was he declaring her an enemy like all the others? The last thing the Opera House needed was a war, and she knew that if Eric's madness was driven beyond the point of no return, a war was what would happen. The ghastly things he was doing right now were by no means the crescendo of his fiendishness. Finally, Eric yanked her back from over the edge of chasm and just let fall on the bridge with a loud thud. He sneered as he heard coughing and gasping for air.

"Get the fuck out," Eric whispered; the harshness of his voice was somewhat less, but the coldness remained very present. "Go home and rest. The ballet has much to work on before the next opera."

Tori slowly stood up, massaging her neck. Most likely she will have to wear a high-collared dress tomorrow to hide the hand print bruises on her neck that were soon to appear. Her face tightened into one of anger as his words continue to ring in her head. How dare he tell her how to properly run a ballet company! She was a dancer, not he!

"Stick to your compositions Eric," she hissed. "I do not tell you how to write music, do not tell me how to train my dancers."

Eric found himself taken aback by her words.

"This is my theater madam, I run things here!" the rage was boiling in his voice. "You best watch yourself. And you shall deliver that note-"

"DELIVER IT YOURSELF!" she shouted, throwing the note on the bridge floor and stomping on it with her boot.

"I am done playing your messenger and spy," she hissed to the shadows. She turned on her heel then and began to stalk off, her black skirts billowing behind her.

"HOW DARE YOU-"

"NO!" she cried out, wheeling around. "How dare you! How dare you threaten an innocent man, how dare you commit heartless murders, how dare you patronize my years of extensive research and training in the art of dance!" she had never felt such fury.

"You know something Eric…I am sorry that the world turned its back on you because of your face. I'm sorry that the world spat at you, that the world denied you, that the world caged you and then laughed at you and called you names. But how you are perceived now is your own responsibility! You control the monster, not the world! The way you show no compassion for anyone or anything! The way you threaten others, the way you…you use women for whatever lusts you crave! And the way you talk…how this is your theater, how these are your rules! Do you have any fucking idea who you are sounding like?"

There was a long silence. She took a deep breath, not sure if he were still there or not, but knew she had to say it.

"I see no difference Eric…no difference whatsoever between yourself and the Vicomte de Sevoy!" With that, she turned and picked up her skirts and ran, not looking back, not once.

Eric was in the shadows, he had not gone. He had stayed that whole time, listening to her words, wanting to lash out, wanting to scream, actually throw her the chasm again and actually let her go, but he was frozen. Did he breathe? Did his heart beat? Did he have a heart?

What did she mean by that? No difference between himself and the Vicomte…there were PLENTY of differences! Erik appreciated music, all the Vicomte cared about was money! The Vicomte was this blonde Apollo figure, while Eric was more like the disfigured Hephaestus. Yes, Erik paid for women to…but he did not leave them pregnant and ruin their promising careers! He groaned and clenched his fists, damning his uncontrollable lusts for flesh, damning all that the world had done to him! He couldn't go out into the world! He had been put into a carnival freak show! His own mother had abandoned him as a child! What else could he do? He had no choice but to go into hiding, and if no one else was going to care for the Opera House, for the art of music, then he had to! He looked like a monster, but he was not like the Vicomte, he wasn't…he wasn't…he…he…

In a roar of wild rage, Eric stalked away from the chasm and headed down one of his many passageways, down to his labyrinth, down to his hell, down to his sanctuary! And while he fled, he remembered the girl, remembered the body that he found himself lusting for when he first saw her there in the cavern, her fiery spirit shining like a beacon in her wild blue grey eyes, and how he tried to shake off the feeling a familiarity towards her, and was soon returning.

And he had never been more disgusted with himself. He actually thought himself above the Vicomte, but he realized that by doing what he intended, by turning the girl into an unwilling slave for his own pleasure…

Tori was right, goddamn it! He was no different than the Vicomte!

He shouldn't go to her; he should leave her where she was and not have anything to do with her! He could release her like her father, send her away, be sure the Opera House would not take her back, get rid of her as he got rid of her father and never be plagued by her beauty again! That would make him different from the Vicomte!

Yet despite these thoughts he found himself running, flying it seemed, through the dark tunnels, through the dimly lit chambers, past rocks, past the underground lake, past deeply cut pits that he truly believed led to hell itself. He flew to the area of his world where he knew she was kept, and he did not stop till he reached the cavern.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

He listened, but he couldn't hear the sound of her breathing.

He swiftly approached the cage, not caring if she screamed, just having to see her, not sure why, but feeling the need to simply look at her face, look into her storm-colored eyes and somehow, find something in them that resembled what part of humanity he had, that did not reflect the Vicomte, but reflected his own monster, that reflected himself.

He gripped the bars, unsure what to say. What was her name? Beatrice… His mind sang to him, but he felt like that name didn't suit at all. He was certain she had a nickname He had heard the ballet girls say it often…Bea? Betty? No, no those weren't it… it was Tris… Yes! But should he reveal that he knew her name? Did it matter? An image formed in his mind suddenly of a little girl clad in grey, her eyes filled with curiosity, confusion, and kindness. The image Eric realized was a memory that he thought he had hidden away a long time ago back to a time he would rather forget; however, through that hellish time, she had been a light in a brief moment when he first laid eyes on her. 'It's not possible… She couldn't possibly…' Eric's mind ran wild at the thought. He simply wanted to look at her, not dwell on the past! Maybe, and just maybe, if he got a closer look at her, then maybe it'll confirm if he was or not ascending into madness into placing this woman into the role of the little girl that stumbled across his stage at the carnival all those years ago. Her sleeping form would suffice, anything, just…

He froze.

On the ground, inside the cage, lay a blanket and several costumes that had fallen from the hangers they had been hung on. He didn't have to peer inside to see what had happened. He already knew, for on the ground, shining dimly from the torch light lay a glistening hair pin.

And next to the pin, was an open door.


R&R! Oh! and just another word and thought! Is there anything you would like to what happens and want to see? I want this to be a story where my readers can interact and tell me what they want.