Chapter 9- Broken

A/N: okay. I can see that a lot of you didn't like Erik's little addiction. anyway, i hadn't planned to have him have a LONG TERM issue- it was just kind of a one-time conflict. (and i really don't like to imagine erik as a druggie either. i really don't.) But anyway- please stick with this story- i promise you, it will get better!

to respond to some of my reviews:

Eilianu- heh- i love your "make up and make out" thing. Who knows... maybe they will...

rio- hey- a million thank yous for all the reviews you left me for my other story! i loved them all! in answer to your question: erik wasn't trying to commit suicide, but he did take more morphine than usual, but it wasn't intentional. and don't worry- erik will be off the morphine by the end of this story, i promise!

Meg didn't remain in her room for long. Presently she became bored, and decided to venture out into the house. After the time spent in her room, Meg decided that she really wasn't as frightened of Erik as she thought she had been. The fear she had felt earlier had been the result of adrenaline and emotion. But now that she dwelt on it, seeing Erik at the height of his addiction had actually lessened her fear. She didn't know why this was so- maybe because she now had living proof that Erik was only human; having the same weaknesses and addictions as any other human being would be tempted to give in to. Whatever it was, Meg was suddenly feeling bold. She opened her door and stepped out into the drafty hallway. A deafening silence met her ears, which she thought, was quite uncommon. If Erik wasn't playing the organ, he was always tinkering with something. She had never heard the house this quiet, and the tomb-like atmosphere was beginning to tug at her nerves.

What if Erik had... killed himself? She thought with a sinking heart. Lord knew there was enough morphine there for him to kill himself twice over, if he had the mind to. Her heart sped up as she swept silently down the hall to his room.

His door was still ajar, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him seated at his desk, back to her, scribbling away at something.

Satisfied, Meg stepped back into the shadows, continuing down the hall. She had never been down this far before- always staying between her room and the main room. But now that she had the chance, she saw that the house was actually much larger than she had perceived it to be. The cavernous tunnels seemed to extend on and on. Meg suddenly wished for a candle, and decided that it would be in the interest of safety to take one. So she turned back, creeping past Erik's door so as not to disturb him. She took one of the black candles from next to the organ, and returned to the rear of the house, intent on exploring.

Most of the rooms were empty, or filled with simple pieces of furniture. Meg pushed open the door to another room, and was surprised to discover that it was filled with costumes, from flouncy stage ball gowns to slave costumes, all in varying sizes. They were old, but lightly used. As she held up one of the long, flowing ballet skirts, she thought about how long it had been since she had danced. Not since the night of the chandelier crash, she recalled. She realized, with a sigh, that she had probably fallen out of shape already. It had been at least two weeks since it had happened- and two weeks of no practicing would certainly not bode well for her. How often had she heard that it was important to practice every day, so her muscles would stay toned and in shape? On impulse, she bent her legs in a simple stretch, holding the position before she felt her muscles start to tense and ache. Disgusted with herself, she stood upright again. She wasn't terribly out of shape, but if she didn't practice soon, she knew she would be. Meg ran her fingers over the sheer material of the skirt. Maybe, she thought, she would practice here. The room was large enough, and there was bound to be a pair of toe shoes around here... A little more rummaging on Meg's part produced exactly what she had been looking for. Checking once more to make sure she was alone, Meg slipped out of her black dress and put on the costume. The skirt was long and flowing, extending down to her ankles. The top was a cutoff, leaving a few inches of her stomach bare, covered only by the elaborate fringe of the costume. This didn't bother Meg; she had danced on stage in costumes even more scant than this before.

She began to stretch her limbs out, twisting herself into strange positions, pulling on muscles most people would never know they had, loosening everything up. Then she started working on a simple practice routine that the dancers had always done- a simple set of transition steps. Gradually, she worked in more elaborate elements, performing perfect leaps and spins, body twirling gracefully around the room. She didn't notice the phantom standing in the doorway, silently admiring her skill. She seemed to be lost in the dance, he thought; as he grew lost in his music. Meg began to hum softly to herself- a rich, exotic melody that seemed to capture the essence of her dance perfectly. Erik watched her, transfixed, until finally, she spun to a stop, and sank to the floor.

Strangely, Meg found herself close to tears. Dancing had brought back to her memories of her old life, a life that she was beginning to think she might never get back. As she dropped on her knees to the cold stone floor, her vision became blurred. Her thoughts seemed to be a mess of the dreams she had once had, all the things she had wanted to do in life. Now it all seemed so hopeless... She drew her knees up to her chest and started crying quietly.

From where he stood in the shadows, Erik was taken aback by her sudden change in mood. Just a second ago, Meg had had the euphoric look of being lost in the beauty of her work, something that he was sure brought her happiness, and now she had completely broken down. He watched her for several more moments, before he saw her picking herself up off the ground. Feeling that he'd stayed long enough, he turned and left her alone, going back to the sanctuary that his room offered.

He was off of the morphine now- his senses had returned to him a short while ago, though as the morphine wore painfully off, it made him wish more than ever that he were dead. He stooped down to pick up the papers that had fallen to the floor in the wake of his raging temper. All of his sketches of Christine; Meg had seen them all, he thought. As he thumbed through them, sitting down at his desk as he did so, a sudden, breath-taking cold rushed over Erik. Seeing Christine's beautiful face before him, while realizing that she was gone forever made him freeze over with agony. It was as though his heart had left his body, leaving him a shell; empty and cold. Angry tears began to fall involuntarily from his blazing green eyes, some falling on the paper, staining it and causing the charcoal to run. He pushed them away quickly. The images were all he had left- he wouldn't ruin them with his own foolish tears.

Christine was gone- she would never come back to him. She was off somewhere, happily married to the fop, probably blissfully happy, all memory of her poor Erik forgotten.

The thought of Christine without him filled him with emptiness like he had never known before.

She was about to agree... to stay with you... if you hadn't have cracked... if you would have kept to your plan... if you hadn't been compassionate... Christine would be here with you...

'But not happily,' he thought sadly.

Perhaps not. But she might have been. You never know. You'll never know, now. She was close... so close to being yours... for ever and always yours. But you let her go. You gave into her, just like she knew you would. She knew, phantom. She knew that if she begged hard enough, if she cried enough... she knew how to exploit your weakness. She is a good actress, you see. And she tricked you, phantom. Admit it. You were tricked.

"Christine would never do that to me," he said quietly, in his own defense. 'She wouldn't,' he assured himself. 'She loved me. She said she did. She kissed me- that was no trick..."

The voices laughed mockingly.

Fool, they called him. Stop trying to lie to yourself. Stop painting that beautiful illusion that Christine did it out of love for you. You know she didn't. She did it to save herself- to save herself from you!

Erik laid his head down on the desk in despair. They were right. They were always right. Christine had tricked him. She had lied to him. She had betrayed him. And yet, his desire for her was still as strong as it had been since he had first known her. A wave of fatigue washed over him, and he found himself suddenly very tired. As he fell asleep, he cursed the effects of morphine.

He woke up hours later, having no idea what time it was. He shook himself groggily, and ventured out into the hallway. Meg was sitting in the main room, reading, though she wasn't really concentrating. Erik could see that by the way her eyes didn't move deliberately; she just stared at the page idly.

She looked up when she heard him enter the room, meeting his eyes with an icy stare.

"Are you sober right now?" she asked, with the same level of malevolence.

The words stung.

Erik scowled defensively. "What if I'm not?" he retorted.

Meg shrugged indifferently. "Don't think I care. I was just asking by way of conversation." Her eyes returned to her book, but he could tell that her concentration was still on him.

His temper flared. "Polite conversation topic, Mademoiselle," he said sarcastically. "Did your mother teach you any manners at all?"

"My mother taught me to use my head! She taught me how to look out for my own safety. If that compromises manners, then so be it, but I refuse to stay in this room with one who is influenced by drugs." She slammed her book shut to punctuate her point. "Now if you'll excuse me, Monsieur." She stood up, meaning to head off to her room.

Erik didn't move. His muscular frame blocked the door, and his eyes were cold.

"You're not going anywhere," he said silkily.

Meg narrowed her eyes. She brought her face very close to his. "Fine!" she hissed. "If you want to keep me prisoner out here instead of my room, far be it from me to stop you!" She stalked back to the chair she had been sitting in and sat down, arms crossing over her chest.

Erik wasn't sure what to do next. Meg was staring at him angrily, watching his every move. He sat down at the organ, and though his back was facing Meg, he could feel her watching him.

The minutes slipped by in uncomfortable silence, until, frustrated, Meg decided to stir things up a bit.

"So how long have you been an addict Erik?" she asked spitefully. "How long have you been numbing yourself with the morphine?"

She saw him straighten rigidly.

"That is none of your concern," he said, exercising as much self-restraint as he possessed.

"Oh, it's plenty of concern to me," she said casually, with the air of one discussing the weather. "Because I have to live with you down here. So I think it's within my rights to know what I'm dealing with."

Her tone made Erik writhe with the desire to hit her. She was so inadvertently condescending and cold...

His voice took on its normal cold contempt. "My dear," he said sarcastically. "You have yet to discover what you're dealing with down here. I can be anything I want to be, you see. I can be your worst nightmare, if I wish. I can be your deepest desire, or your greatest fear..."
Goosebumps erupted all over Meg's arms. She was becoming lost in Erik's voice- his evil, seductive voice. It was everywhere; surrounding the air around her, stifling her. It was in her mind.

"I can be in your mind," his voice taunted in her mind.

"Or beside you," it whispered over her left shoulder.

"Or right in front of you," Erik said, the words returning to his mouth. "My words can torture you into losing your very sanity..." He was all around her now; she felt lightheaded and faint. All she could hear was Erik's voice- twisting her soul, making her imagine things, terrible and beautiful at the same time...

She fell to her knees. "Erik- stop, please!" she begged. "Oh god- please make it stop!" Meg knew she was crying like a small child, but she didn't care. The voice was so terrible- so horrible to listen to. She covered her ears in terror and pain, but couldn't block them from her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could die. And then there was silence.

Meg opened her eyes, finding herself very much alone in the room. Erik was nowhere to be seen.

She picked herself up off the floor, dazed and confused. Still feeling lightheaded, she staggered down the hall to her room, shutting the door and this time, locking it.

A/N: dang nabbit- looks like i've made erik go off a little psycho again. wasn't really my intention, but oh well. i needed a little more animosity between these two. Next chapter, you'll see more of their human sides. IT WILL GET BETTER, I PROMISE! So review my darlings, cause i love you all!