Happy (late) Saint Patrick's day! Or for some, it's also spring break. I'm happy because I'm a little ahead of the game (at this point in time) and have a large portion of the next chapter already written.

Thank you for those who reviewed! Erik gets to have 5 hugs and kisses from you guys.

Erik: *Getting hugged and kissed individually* This is odd. . .Thank you? And ONLY kiss me on the cheek!

This chapter is named after "Dark On Me" by Starset. I've been waiting to use this song for at least a year. It's one of the main songs I've used to brainstorm for this story. There are many songs I'm wanting to use for particular chapters (and I'm struggling to squeeze them all in). I kind of wish I could use this song for a different chapter, but with as many songs as I have lined up, I'm just gonna use it for this chapter. The sound of it fits this chapter at least. The lyrics do as well, but they may make more sense further into the story.

I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, nor any music by Starset. I only own my OC's.

Enjoy!

. . .

I ended up eating the stupid sandwich he prepared for me. I felt sick to do it, and had trouble getting it down. It was cold by the time I touched it but that was the least of my concern. My biggest concern was what would happen to me after eating it. Surely it couldn't be poisoned if he was planning on me living here with him. Out of fear of it being laced with something, I locked myself away in the bathroom where I knew he could not touch me. Behind the locked door, I desperately tried to form a plan.

The shape of the key he used was burned in my mind as I remembered how it caught the light unlike the others. If I were quick, it'd only take a second to find the right one if I got my hands on the keys. . .Right? The real question was how to even get to that point. Reach right into his pocket? I shuddered at the thought of getting that close to him. Besides, how the hell was someone supposed to do that gracefully? The truth was, no one could, unless if I were to attempt to seduce him. I'd rather die than touch him. I knew he'd never be careless enough to leave them laying around - they'd stay in his pocket the entire time. My only other option was to attack him while he was leaving.

You need a weapon first! My mind growled again in irritation. His keys would serve as a good weapon. All I'd have to do is thread them in between my knuckles and aim for his eyes. While he promised not to hurt me, that didn't mean that he couldn't try to stop me from making my great escape.

I spent hours in the bathroom just like earlier before, not able to bring myself to leave in fear of him coming back. There was something about being trapped in a tiny room for hours on end that was agonizingly boring. I knew it would induce insanity if I didn't find something to occupy my mind - especially if I stayed cooped up here for even just a year or two. It was silent outside, amplifying the ringing in my ears. The bathroom was irritably cramped, and I wanted to push the walls further apart, as if the new distance would help me breathe easier. I was going to go crazy in here.

Now's not the time to be claustrophobic. I told myself. I instead sat down on the shaggy, violet bathroom mat, trying to smother my mind with a distraction. In this case, memories from my early childhood. It came with ease, for homesickness always managed to tug at my heart - now more-so than ever.

. . .

I had awoken that night screaming. I kicked off my turquoise sheets from the nightmare, and it took me a moment to realize that I was still safe and sound in my room. My nightlight was still working, projecting a pattern of flowers on the walls and ceiling. My favorite stuffed bear had fallen, and I quickly snatched him from the floor as if in fear that an arm from underneath my bed would grab my wrist if I wasn't fast enough. I clutched it close to myself, nearly panting as my body quaked in fear.

"Clare?" My father's voice was muffled behind my bedroom door before he opened it, letting himself in. "What's wrong?" His chocolatey eyes looked at me with concern.

"I had a scary dream!" Although I was still shaken up, I felt safe once I saw my dad. I simply dreaded his departure, knowing that once I was alone with my thoughts, my fears would leave me paranoid of what lurked in the dark. Even if it was merely my plain, harmless bedroom. "It was dark and I was lost. I was trying to get away but couldn't, and I couldn't breathe. And then there was a bad guy trying to get me - he had blood on his face, and I couldn't run fast enough." I was practically speaking a million miles an hour as my dad took a seat on the edge of my bed. He seemed rather relieved after hearing about my nightmare. I assumed I must've screamed loudly and woken the house. . .And by that, the only person I would've woken besides myself was my dad. My mom always slept like the dead. My dad was an extremely light sleeper, snapping awake by subtle sounds.

"It was just a bad dream, sweetie. You can go back to sleep now."

"I'm scared."

His eyes softened, and appeared dark amber when the flower pattern from my nightlight draped across his face. "There's no need for you to be." He said as he gently stroked my messy hair. "I won't let anything scary get you. I promise."

. . .

I wished I could rewind time, and escape to my past. Even if it was inevitable I should end up here in this prison. At least I would have many years before I would have to face these horrors. It would've been easy to prevent as well.

I thought of my dad's promise. While some would've tried to hold a grudge against him for failing to keep it, I couldn't. How was he supposed to know that I'd be taken by this psycho one day? He couldn't protect me forever. He couldn't watch me every moment of the day. I was simply living life, and apparently that was too risky.

The frightened child in me yearned to see my parents. I wished I was still that little 6 or 7 year old girl being tucked back into bed. I could still remember the details of my old bedroom. I wistfully recalled the smooth lavender walls and cream colored carpet. The sky blue beanbag I used to lounge in when I'd play with dolls, and an ivory colored desk I used to sit at when I would draw. Like many little girls, I used to care for my stuffed toys as if I were their mother, and try to pick cute, fitting names for them. Some of which were atrocious names, but I thought they were beautiful at the time. As I got older, posters of my favorite shows were pinned up on the walls, and I swooned over my favorite characters in books. My biggest concerns were dealing with mean kids at school or passing a tough class. Funny how I used to read to escape reality when my life was perfectly content then.

Hours passed while I waited for something to take effect - whatever might have been mixed in with the food. To my surprise, I never spontaneously lost consciousness.

Looks like the sandwich was harmless after all.

I decided that I still wasn't going to go back out there - not yet, anyways. Time felt distorted in this wretched place. Although I didn't have a window to peer out of, I could feel that it had at the very least, been a full 24 hours since I had been abducted. I knew that eventually, I would have to fall asleep. My stomach twisted by the idea of it - the idea of having to face my fiancé who was a murderer. Would I have to fight to escape from there as well? My eyes burned fiercely at the thought of that.

This is your life now. My mind whispered, and a sob shook through my whole body when I realized that was true. I would always be running.

I curled up in a tight ball on the bathroom floor rug, the smell of rubber reaching my nose. I sure as hell wasn't going to go sleep on the queen sized bed out there - even though it may have looked warm and soft. I wasn't going to risk it when I couldn't properly lock the door, unlike the bathroom I was in. I was physically and mentally tired, but I could not decide which timeline was safer for me. Stay trapped here with my crazed kidnapper, or cross over to another life where my mysterious fiancé lurked? I knew that neither I could escape from.

I would never have a normal life. Happiness was not in store for my future. I would never return home to my apartment with my friends. I would never see my mom's radiant smile, or my dad's warm brown eyes crinkle with joy again. My dad would never walk me down the aisle, and my mom would never brainstorm over baby names with me. They would simply never happen. My future was merely a hollowed out dream. A nightmare. And nothing in the entire world was going to save me from the inevitable.

. . .

My body ached horribly, and I tiredly opened my eyes. To my shock, I was still laying on the bathroom floor. I stiffly sat up, raking my mind for the memory of last night. I remembered nothing more than pathetically crying myself to sleep on the bathroom floor mat, before drifting to a seemingly dreamless sleep.

I never time traveled? I wondered to my disbelief. But I always do! This can't be! I had to have time traveled. . .I just can't remember! I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat, wanting to scream. It simply wasn't fair. When would life for once go my way? What had I done to deserve this?

I wondered if I had seen my fiancé at all last night. If I had, did he explain whether he had already approached my friends? Did we fight? Did he explain himself for his past deeds? Was I able to forgive him for his ghastly sins?

How can a murderer find redemption? How could you possibly find it in yourself to forgive him for taking the lives of others? I wondered as I mindlessly played with the ring that was strung on my necklace.

A new theory then crossed my mind. Perhaps I hadn't crossed over to 1870 Paris France in my sleep at all last night. Qualm pooled to the bottom of my stomach. If that were the case, what had prevented me?

I felt a sob wanting to well in me all over again. Although there wasn't a mirror in here, I knew that my eyes were probably puffy. Part of me ached to know why I hadn't seen Erik last night in my dreams, and yet, part of me was overwhelmed by the idea of facing him.

. . .

Hunger was what eventually drove me away from the bathroom. Just like the morning before, there was breakfast waiting for me in "my" bedroom. Although I was still wary, the smell of cinnamon drew me closer. I stared down at the desk, my eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of a plate of french toast sticks with a small cup of syrup. I couldn't hardly remember the last time I had indulged on them. To the left, in a foam bowl were raspberries mixed in with blueberries. In a clear plastic cup was a burgundy colored juice. He must've assumed that I disliked orange juice considering I didn't touch it at all the other day.

Why how considerate of that asshole. My mind sneered.

I simply stared at the breakfast he had left me, wondering if I dare touch it. There was no point in starving when the last meal hadn't been tampered with. If he had desired to hurt me, he would've done so already.

Theres no point in him waiting to hurt you when he's already in control of everything. A wave of disgust in myself washed over me by that thought. I wasn't going to let him be in control. He didn't own me.

Whether you let him control you or not, the fact is, he's in control. How else do you explain the fact that you're still trapped here? I wanted to shake my head clear of the irritating thoughts. While he may have been in control of my presence here, I wouldn't allow myself to give in mentally. I would not allow myself to willingly live here. I was trapped, but this sure as hell wouldn't be my new home. Whether I would be stuck here for a day or years, I would be fighting and plotting to break free. I always would be. Until I successfully escaped, or died.

I grimly stared down at the breakfast. I couldn't let myself die of starvation if I had a rescue team looking for me. Someone had to be looking for me by now. That is, if Erik successfully warned both Mina and Veronica. If not, then Mina still thought I was at my parents house.

I hesitantly picked up the plastic cup of juice when I realized that partially tucked underneath the napkin was another letter.

Lets see what the bastard has to say this time.

I lifted it up, while subconsciously taking a small sip of the juice he had provided. My mouth watered by the sting of it's tartness, making me realize it was cranberry juice. My eyes skimmed through the letter as the taste dwindled in my mouth.

Clare,

I apologize for raising my voice at you yesterday. I hope you'll soon come to understand that I'm only trying to do what is best for you. I also want you to be comfortable here, but I know that that will take time. However, I truly mean it when I say to make yourself at home. The shower is available for you to use, and as I'm sure you're aware of, the dressers are stocked for you. Please make yourself at home.

-Erik

My heart felt as if it plummeted. Partially from fear of having to undress and shower in this place, but also that he knew I had been snooping through the dressers.

He had to have figured that. My mind shot back. Honestly, what else would anyone do when kidnapped and dumped in an unfamiliar room? That was true, but it didn't lessen my concern of showering here.

My paranoid mind felt the need to search for hidden cameras in the bathroom. I skeptically glanced around the bedroom, looking for any. The walls and ceiling were bare. Those ideally would have been the best places to put them, unless if hidden in the furniture somehow. There certainly weren't any decor in here for cameras to lurk in. The room really was quite bland. There weren't any pictures framed on the wall, or interesting knick knacks to occupy my mind when insanely bored in this shoe box, hell-hole of a room. . .So much for "making myself at home" here.

I begrudgingly started eating the suspicious breakfast he brought me. It didn't taste as good, simply due to my knowledge of where it came from. Hell, I would've preferred it if it had been made by Veronica - and Veronica wasn't a very enthusiastic cook either.

I had already finished the french toast and was almost done with the bowl of berries when a sudden brief knock at the door startled me. I froze in the chair I sat in, my heart quickening in my chest. Not waiting for a response from me, the door swung open. In came my masked kidnapper, and he quickly locked the door behind himself before slipping his keys into his pocket, all in one fluid movement.

For the first time ever he wasn't wearing a gloomy color, but a stark white button up shirt. I had seen Erik in a white long sleeved shirt before, but it was accompanied with a dark silky vest and cravat.

His electric blue eyes gazed down at the breakfast I had mostly finished by then, looking pleased.

"I see you've eaten." No shit, really? I simply stared at him, trying to remain strong. "I hope it didn't disappoint."

My gut felt as if it wrenched in discomfort from the mere conversation. I remained silent, and slowly became more aware of the thumping in my chest. I desperately wanted to be free from this prison. I turned away from him, looking down at my empty plate, wanting to escape from his gaze and attention.

"I hope we can begin to adjust to this new living situation." Or not. "I don't want you to feel like a prisoner here. Would you like to leave the room, perhaps?"

My gaze snapped to his in bewilderment. It seemed like the absolute last thing a kidnapper would allow. This was my chance to see what was beyond the door. Maybe I would see my exit. Before I could question him, or before he could change his mind, I quickly nodded. A weak smile slightly curved the edge of his mouth. There was a strange hollowness in his topaz eyes.

"I would like that as well." His voice was surprisingly gentle and calm - a facade to cover his insanity. "It's not fair to keep you in here after our disagreement from earlier. It's time to move passed that." I stared at him, wondering if I was hallucinating at this point. Could it get anymore weird? I honestly wasn't sure whether to feel relieved by his demeanor, or even more skeptical. None of it made any sense. It wasn't normal for kidnappers to act warm and inviting. Did he view me more as a pet than a victim of his?

Regardless, I knew I had to stay on his good side if I wanted to get away. Especially if he was going to let me out of this room. I nodded as if in agreement, acting as understanding as possible. The soft smile had long faded, and his face had grown more stern in expression when his eyebrows knitted together. Nervousness crept up my spine as his intense blue eyes studied me. I felt as if he was peering directly into my soul, knowing where my true motives remained.

Before anything could be said, he broke his gaze from me, and I suddenly felt as if I could breathe. His eyes flickered down to my empty plate.

"I'll take these if you're done, while you freshen up." I was once again taken aback. I must have looked stumped when he met my gaze because he continued on. "I'm sure you're sick of being in the same clothes." Actually I like my clothes just fine. "And with as stressful as this transformation has been, a shower will help calm your nerves."

I found myself narrowing my eyes at him. I was already reluctant with peeling my clothes off here - even if I didn't have an audience. However his insisting nature on it was bizarre. Perhaps I truly did reek. Or perhaps he was just a complete creep - not that that would be a surprise, after all.

"There's plenty of spare clothes here for you." You already told me. My mind hissed, since I was too much of a coward to let the words leave my lips. He was merely repeating everything from his stupid letter at this point. He must've really wanted to get his damn point across.

He collected the paper plate and foam bowl when I made no move to stop him. "I'll show you the library once you've showered and dressed."

. . .

Oh my goodness, I hope this chapter wasn't weird. I switched paragraphs around and reworded things so much. I wrote 98% of this chapter over the course of a couple of days when I was blessed with inspiration, and luckily wasn't busy. Then midterms came around, as well as projects. On the bright side, I have a lot written for the next chapter already, and hopefully I'll be able to update soon.

In the meantime, tell me what you guys think this doppelgänger has in mind for Clare. Do you think he actually has good intentions like he keeps promising? Or do you think he's up to no-good? And why doesn't Clare remember her dreams? Or do you think she never went to Erik's time to begin with? Share your ideas through reviews!

Also, if any of you have noticed anything strange at all with my writing (ranging from using the same word over and over, to being too wordy, etc.), please let me know! I'm open to feedback. I'd like to improve as a writer, so don't be afraid to say something if you notice something odd with my writing. Whenever I look back at my first story, it's almost physically painful for me because I just loved using way too much detail for everything. What bothers me the most was how often I restated things. I still do it, but I'm working on it.

Thanks for reading!