Erik's POV

The next morning, I woke and dressed for the day. It pained me to look at myself in the mirror, but everything was going to change today. I held onto the banister as I came down the stairs, Christine peeking out from the kitchen in her night attire. It was obvious that she just got up…

"Erik, I'm making breakfast, would you like something?"

I opened the door and shook my head. "No, Christine. I'll be back later…"

"Where are you going?" she frantically asked.

But I didn't answer her…No, I left my home and slammed the door behind me. I knew where I was headed, I was headed towards Madame Giry's apartment. Today they were going to pay for what they had done to me. They would all pay dearly…But first, I wanted to venture to the tailor to have him design me some new shirts with a higher collar. Like I usually did, I entered his small shop, the owner approaching me with his familiar smile. He was an older man, nearly in his sixties, though, for the past five years he has sewn and repaired all of my garments, including my mask.

"Ah, Mr. Erik, how can I help you today? I haven't seen you in a few months."

"I've been ill," I faltered. "But the reason I came in here today, is because I need you to design me a few new shirts."

"New shirts?" he raised a brow. "And what sort of shirts would you be requiring?"

I pressed my eyes closed and pointed to my neck. The man's eyes got glance of my scar, a look of pure disgust displaying across his wrinkled face.

"I…I need you to design me a few shirts with a high collar," I began. "Ones that can hide this hideous scar."

The man swallowed hard and shook his head. Oh, it broke my heart, for I knew that it couldn't be done.

"Mr. Erik, that is nearly impossible. You see, the scar is so close to your chin, that making a shirt with a collar that high would simply look ridiculous. Not only that, but extremely uncomfortable. Now, what I could do is give you a cravat of some sort to wrap around the area. Other than that, no shirt would ever be able to cover a scar such as that."

My world ended in those few seconds. Not only did I feel hideous, but my anger began to boil within me. So much, that I lashed out and grabbed the old man by the collar of his shirt.

"You don't have any idea how it feels to be me, monsieur…You've seen the bloodstains in the lining of my masks, seen the tears upon my shirts… You've been my tailor for the past five years. Please don't stand here and tell me that there isn't anything to be done about my neck."

But the man was telling the truth. And so, with the anger stirring within me, I left his shop and headed towards Madame Giry's home. When I arrived at Madame Giry's apartment, I knocked, the rage already building up within my body. All I had to do was think about that man slitting my throat, and my blood instantly began to boil. When the door opened, I didn't hesitate and kicked the door in, Madame Giry gasping as I did so. I wasn't sure where Meg was, but immediately grabbed Madame Giry by her throat and slammed her against the nearest wall. Oh, I was prepared…I was going to kill her!

"Erik…" she gasped. "Wh…What are you doing?"

"Don't play dumb with me, bitch! Look at me…Look at my throat!"

"Erik, I don't know what you're talking about. Let me go…"

I grabbed a knife from off of the counter and held the blade against Madame Giry's neck.

"I'm going to cut you just like you cut me… It's over Madame! Over! You took the only beautiful thing I had away from me...My voice, madame! I loved my unscathed neck, but I loved my voice more. Now, it's nothing more than a croaked whisper!"

"Erik, please…I…I didn't do anything, I swear."

"YOU LIE!"

I pressed the blade against her flesh, causing a few beads of blood to escape. The woman cried out, pleading for me to leave her alone. Her fists pounded into my chest over and over again, but I refused to let go of her neck.

"You hired someone to slash my throat," I cried, my voice being nothing more than a low whisper. "Now look at me! I'm going to kill you!"

"No, Erik, please…"

"Please nothing! You're dead…Do you hear me? Dead!"

"Mama?"

When I heard Meg's voice, my hand paused on the knife. When the girl entered the room Madame Giry and I were in, she paused, her face turning into one filled with complete horror.

"Let my mother go…"

I held the blade closer to Madame Giry's neck, causing Meg to become on edge.

"Your hired someone to slash my throat…I know you did."

"I did nothing of the sort," Meg cried. "Please, Erik…We didn't do that."

"You lie!"

Once more, the blade began to cut Madame Giry's throat, causing Meg to fly forward. I lost all grip upon Madame Giry, and now, both Meg and I were rolling around on the floor, fighting over the sharp knife. I had to hand it to the girl, for someone so small, she had a lot of fight within her. At one point, the knife met with the flesh of my stomach, causing the slightest cut. I cringed, but refused to give up the knife.

"We didn't do a damn thing!" Meg cried. "You have the wrong person. Now, give me back my knife."

Soon, Madame Giry had been caught in the fight over the knife, for she had thrown Meg aside and tackled me, gripping her hand around the handle of the knife. She may have gotten hold of it for the slightest of seconds, but I grabbed the blade of the knife, causing it to slice through the palms of my hands. It hurt terribly, but I was at my wit's end.

"Erik, enough…"

The old woman held her hand against her bleeding neck and placed the knife aside, both of my hands gushing blood.

"Erik, you're sick…" she murmured. "You've gone completely mad. We didn't hire anyone to slash your throat. We may have tried to do other things to get what we wished, but slashing your throat wasn't one of them."

Madame Giry tried to come forward and help me, but I flinched and gathered to my feet. Only then, did I stumble out the door and head back home…She was right, I had gone mad. Oh, completely and utterly mad. When I arrived home, I hurried up the stairs to my room without Christine knowing. I slammed the door closed and slumped into my chair, staring down at my hands that were stained in crusty blood. My body was sweating and my heart was racing a mile a minute as I sat there staring down at my wounds.

A few moments later, I heard my door open and Christine's voice following.

"Erik, I was worried about you. Where have you been?"

My entire body was shaking now, shaking because of what I had done. I had attacked and nearly killed two innocent people. Maybe they weren't completely innocent on a count of the horrible deed they had done nearly a month ago, but it was obvious that none of them had anything to do with what happened to my throat.

"Erik, please speak to me… You've been so distant lately. And look at you, you're still wearing your jacket."

I heard Christine's footsteps, only to be met with her horrid expression and stiff body. As soon as she got close enough to my body, she came into contact with my wounds, those wounds being my hands. She covered her mouth and backed away towards the door, fleeing my room a few moments later and coming back with a basin of water and other things needed to help me.

"Erik, your hands…" she gasped, sitting down beside me. But I was in my own little world, that world being the one filled with shock and horror over what I had done. She took each of my hands, dipping them into the hot and soapy water. Yes, it felt as though I were being stung by nearly a thousand bees, but no sound emerged from my body, no sound except a few low yelps every once in a while.

"Oh my word, Erik…" Christine gasped, looking down at my hands. "You're going to need stitches. What have you done?"

My body was shaking so much, that Christine took one of my blankets from off of my bed and wrapped it around my body. But I wasn't shivering from the cold, no, I was shivering from fear, fear of myself.

"Erik, please…"

But I didn't answer her. Christine cared for me, placing my body down on my bed and preparing herself to stitch the palms of my hands. I hardly made a sound as she did so, and when both of my hands were bandaged, Christine removed my wig and set it aside with my mask.

"Erik, you don't look well. You're pale and covered in sweat. I'm going to go downstairs and make you something to help you with that."

Later that evening, Christine returned, taking a seat at my bedside and brushing her hand through my sparse locks of hair. My shaking had stopped, but I was still in shock over everything that had taken place.

"Erik, do you need me to fetch you the doctor?"

"No," I murmured. "I'm all right."

"Erik, today when you came home, you were shaking and covered in blood. In the past, I knew what you were capable of…I knew that you murdered people."

"I…I didn't murder anyone today, Christine," I cooed. "I…I just went a little mad is all. I had a break down. You see, I went to the tailor to have him make me a few new shirts, one with high collars, but I was denied. He said that it wasn't possible due to the fact that my scar is too close to my chin. He said not only would a collar that high look ridiculous, but it would also be unbearable to wear. No, he said the only thing I could do was wrap a cravat around it. Oh, Christine, I'm going to look utterly hideous come spring. As you know, I have scars covering my entire body, but my neck was something that made me stand out…It was the only unscathed part of my body that I was willing to show off. Now, I don't wish to show off any part of my body. Oh, I'm completely hideous, Christine."

"Erik," Christine lied down beside me and smiled, her fingers brushing over my scar. "You are anything but hideous. You, Erik Mulheim, are the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on. Yes, you may bear scars, but those scars don't bother me a single bit. So, if you have a woman at home who enjoys your company, why care what others are going to think or say? Trust me on this one…"

I pressed my eyes closed, only to have Christine continue.

"But, be as it may, that still doesn't explain why you came home covered in blood, Erik… How did your hands get slashed?"

"I…I went to see Madame Giry today. I thought she and Meg had something to do with what happened to me, but I was wrong. I tore through their home like an animal, threatening to cut their throats like they had cut mine. Oh, Christine, I was angry… But in the end, I found out that they had nothing to do with what had happened to me."

"Erik, are they all right?"

"Yes, I swear….But I was a monster today, Christine. Oh, I was a monster. Madame Giry and Meg are not good women, but they didn't deserve to be threatened like they were today…"

Christine pressed a kiss to my cheek and rose from where she had been sitting.

"Get some rest, mon ange… You've had a long and tiring day."

When Christine left me, I rolled over and faced my window. My neck was still hideous, that I knew… I knew that I would never feel right again, but life would move forward, this was something that was bound to happen. When I closed my eyes, I fell into a dreamless slumber, only to wake when I heard my door opening. A few moments later, I felt a small body crawling into bed beside me, opening my eyes to find Gustave laying there.

"Gustave, what are you doing here?" I lightly groaned. "It's late."

"I've missed you, Mr. Erik…" he cried, wrapping his small arms around me. "I haven't seen you in days. When I woke a few moments ago, I wanted to see you before going back to sleep. Mama keeps me out of your room because she is afraid of what I might think of your anger. Please tell me that you're not angry at me now?"

"Never, Gustave. Though, I am dreadfully tired. Couldn't this conversation wait until the morning?"

Gustave finally nodded and pressed a small kiss to my distorted cheek.

"Mr. Erik?"

"Yes, Gustave?"

"I love you…"

I swallowed hard, for no one had ever said those words to me before. But did I love the boy back? Yes, I cared deeply for him, but love? Oh, that was a very strong word. I never loved anything but Christine, and yet, even now, this child who had come from the same blood was telling me that he loved me. Surely love had skipped a generation when it came to Christine.

"I love you too, Gustave. Now, off to bed with you. I'll be up and about in the morning."

"Mr. Erik, if you're really hungry, we could go downstairs and have a snack. Mama has some ice cream that she made and it's in the ice box."

"Ice cream?" I questioned, feeling my stomach churning with just the thought of having to eat another bowl of that horrible substance. But my Christine? Making ice cream? Oh, I would have to see this for myself come morning.

"Gustave, I'm going to sleep now. In the morning, if I'm hungry, I'll eat something. Now, off to bed with you before I call your mother up here. She'll get angry if she finds you out of bed."

The boy understood and wrapped his arms around me one final time, tightly squeezing me as if it would be our final hug.

"Goodnight, Mr. Erik."

"Goodnight, Gustave. To bed with you…"

When Gustave was finally gone, I closed my eyes again and sighed. Tomorrow would surely be a day I would remember, for it would be another day back to work. But for now, sleep sounded absolutely wonderful, and therefore, I fell into a dreamless slumber, one filled with pleasant thoughts.

Rage and fluff...Please review!