A/N: Hey everyone! I'm sorry it took so long to update, I just have no freaking idea what to write :P

I'm also doing three things in different windows at the same time O_O

Thanks to The Phan Ghost, Penkey, mcphan4eva, alexdear15 (a.k.a. writer! :D), Bella's Sister, and Fop Huntress! I love you guys! Although I don't own you or any Phantom stuff.

Izzi's POV:

From the last time I'd spied on Raoul and Christine (which was about a week ago), I had acquired a taste for it. Of course, there was now nothing to spy on them for, so I had to spy on other people. And so the story begins.

O_O—O_O

I crept behind the wall, on my way to the managers' office. Yes, I was using one of Erik's secret passageways. He would probably get mad, but…meh, whaddaya gonna do? So, anywho, I was behind the wall on the managers' office when they walked in.

"Well!" said Andre. "Carlotta is certainly in a fit."

"Yes. I guess Christine Daae isn't performing for opening night again," Firmin replied, his face red.

"I'm sorry about your lamp, Firmin." At this, he began to sniff.

I heard a dry chuckle beside me and I jumped back, saying, "What the frig?!"

I felt someone touch my face and a match was struck, flooding the passage with light. Erik's face with about six inches from mine, much to my delight and his horror. Unfortunately, the passage wasn't big enough for him to move much farther away.

"What are you doing here?!" he hissed, glaring daggers at me.

"I was spying on the managers! What are YOU doing?!" I hissed back. He rolled his eyes, taking me by the waist (which almost made me pee my pants), and dragged me down the hall.

We came into a bigger passage, and he let go of my waist. I scoffed and slipped my own arm around his waist. "How you doin'?" I asked.

He pushed me away. "Get off of me, you creepy woman!"

I pretended to look hurt. "Sor-ry!"

He crossed his arms. "So. Why were you spying on the managers?"

I rolled my eyes. "Why were you?"

"I'm supposed to! It's my job!" he replied, holding out an envelope in his handwriting, addressed to the managers.

"Well, I have an addiction to spying on people! So if you're trying to tell me something, just come out and say it man, I mean, no need to be hatin' on a brotha!" I replied, shaking my head at him.

He stared blankly for a second. "I…don't…know…what you just said…but…erm…"

I waved my hand dismissively. "Dun worry 'bout it, bra."

"What?!"

"Never mind!" I said, stalking back to the smaller passage to continue spying on the managers. I stood there behind the wall, watching them talk about Erik and Carlotta and something about Andre's cat and a motorized tie rack, which doesn't make much sense, considering it's the 1800s.

Erik slipped next to me silently, and I could feel him shifting. Suddenly his face was very close to mine and he said in my ear, "Are you honestly addicted to spying?"

"Yeah, why?" I whispered back. There was a pause.

"We'll talk about this later." And that was the end of it. We stood there for a little while, watching the managers talk about squirrels.

"What the hell?" Erik asked, when Andre said, "Do you think squirrels know about the toast scandal?"

"I…don't…know…" I said slowly. Erik silently slipped the letter through a hole in the wall, which was hidden by a picture, and it landed on their desk. They looked at each other in horror and picked it up to read it.

He chuckled and seized my wrist, leading me out of the passage and into his lair. "I'm so lucky that I don't have to use the Plume."

"Hey! I had to bribe a lot of people to build that! Plus it took me most of my francs and I'm now betrothed to the son of the Prime Minister of Algeria!" I yelled, shaking my fist.

"What? You're getting married and you're thirteen?" he peered at me.

I scoffed. "I said I was betrothed. God!"

"Okay, yeah, whatever. So, anyway, about your addiction, I was thinking that I could use it. You see, I'm working on an opera, and sometimes I don't have time to scare the shit out of people, and spy on them at the same time. So that's three things I'm doing all at once. I was wondering if you would start spying on people for me," Erik said, and looked at me hopefully.

I thought for a moment. "Okay, I guess."

He smiled and then said, "Well, carry on then. First, go spy on Christine…you may use any of the passageways you need."

I grinned and trotted out, getting into the Phlume (we had built a separate track to go back up to the surface as well). I got to the other side and walked the rest of the way up.

I snuck behind the mirror, and looked out. Christine was practicing in her nightgown, and stiffened, as if she sensed me. "Erik? I told you to never come see me here. Anywhere but here, darling."

I stifled a laugh. Darling. Hehe! Anywho, I then said, "Christine, you're making me feel so loved! This isn't Erik, B-T-W!"

Christine's eyes widened. "Who are you?! What are you doing here?!" I rolled my eyes and stepped out of the mirror. She stifled a screech, and stared at me with large eyes. "Oh my…"

"I know, I know, I'm not who you were expecting. But does it matter? He sent me here to talk to you," I waved my hands.

Christine sat at her vanity and looked into the flame on the burning candle. "What do you want?"

"Well, I'm sort of Erik's messenger. He wanted me to give you this," I said, taking a letter out. I had actually written myself many times over as a fantasy. It was originally a departing letter saying that Erik was dumping Christine for me, but I cleaned it up a bit and made it viewable.

She tried to take it, but I figured that she would see that it wasn't his handwriting or ink, so I said, "I'll read it to you. You can get the vibe better from my voice."

She shook her head, but looked up at me expectantly. "It reads:

Dearest Christine,

I must leave you. Why, I cannot say. Where I am going, you cannot know. How I will get there…err, I haven't decided yet. But one thing I can tell you, any time I hear the wind blow, it will whisper the name... Christine. And so let us part with a love that will echo through the ages.

Erik."

I looked up, to see her in tears. She was sobbing loudly, wiping her eyes with her shawl. I could hardly believe that a note I had copied off of The Simpsons and replaced the names could make someone break down like that. "H-He's l-leaving?!" she wailed, her face in her hands.

I nodded slowly. "I thought you liked Raoul…"

"But Erik is my Angel of Music! He can't leave me like this!" she cried.

"Well I'll be jiggered, you really do like him?" I put my hands on my hips. "Do you even know what you want anymore?!"

That just made her sob harder. "Of course I love him! But he's like my father…he gave me my voice, but my heart is somewhere else…" she said, looking off wistfully.

I shook with anger. "You common little two-a-penny thing!" She gasped and stared at me when I said that. "Do you know how much you're hurting him, you little slut!" I couldn't help myself. In a situation like this, a truly caring person would withdraw themselves and think of neither man as a love interest. At least, that's what I would do.

"How dare you say that!" she wailed, sobbing again.

I growled and crumpled the letter. "I wish he did leave you!" I said, and stomped back into the mirror while she wasn't looking. What a bitch!

Suddenly Erik was there, at my throat. "You!" he growled, pressing down on my windpipe. I thought for a second that this was it and that I had pushed him too far. I was gonna die right here and now.

I ripped off his mask in a desperate attempt to get him off of me, if only for a second. He ignored me, although his arm did twitch, as if to move to cover his face. I clawed at his hands, trying to make him stop. My eyes widened and realized that no matter how much he choked me, I would still love that man.

He threw me back, and I hit my head on the stone wall. My throat hurt like hell. "Bitch! You dirty, lying BITCH!" I winced at his words, but stood slowly, backing up against the wall. He continued screeching at me, and I had to turn my head to the side in order to keep his face from smashing into mine.

"My throat…" I moaned, my voice sounding and feeling like sandpaper.

"I don't give a rat's ass about your throat!" he yelled, using a phrase I believe I taught him.

"I'll never be able to sing again," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "You ruined my voice, you…" I was too tired to think of something bad to call him.

He grabbed hold on my shoulders and shook me, banging my head against the wall multiple times. "I don't care!" he yelled in my face. I thought about closing my eyes, but knew that he wouldn't receive any feeling from that. I looked him straight in the eyes, and especially at the mutilated half of his face.

"You bitch," he said finally, shoving me down the hallway. "Get out of my sight, and I never want to see you again."

I ran down the hall and out a trapdoor, dropping directly into the dorm. I threw myself on my cot and sobbed harder than I ever have before, which made my throat hurt even more. I knew Lizzy was off somewhere cleaning, and was half glad she wasn't here to comfort me.

I squeezed my eyes shut and groped for my tear-stained tank top that Erik had caused last week. I finally got a hold of it and hugged it, tears still streaming down my face; I had taken verbal and now physical abuse from that man, yet still loved him unconditionally. This was too much to handle, let alone much too mature for a thirteen-year-old to go through.

I'd gone too far in my phandom. I felt the back of my head and realized that it was bleeding a little. I groaned and pulled the covers over my head, just wanting to die. "I'm sorry," was the last thing I said, hoping Erik would hear me. I'd always hated women who took abuse unconditionally, but now I knew…now I was one of them, and I even had the power to go, but I didn't. It was like I couldn't.

I sobbed one last time and tried not to fall asleep, knowing that I probably had a concussion and didn't want to die. I sat up and looked around, taking a shot of Diet Coke I had brought with us. I felt a little better, but realized I needed to see a doctor.

I ran out of the room and to the first person I thought of: Madame Giry.