"NO," a scream echoed through the tunnels beneatht he Paris opera house.
Please don't do this.," more screams followed by sobs, then the pleas
started again. This time quieter, "Papa, please don't leave me here."
"Yer not my daughter," the words were slurred togehter. The man was drunk. "You've caused 'nough trouble." He dragged the girl behind him.
The opera ghost watched from the mask of his shadows. He watched the girl struggle fiercly. She flung her small fist into his side and broke free. She started to run but the man was still quick, even through his drunkeness. He pulled the girl close to him and she tried to hit him again. He slapped her across the face and threw her to the ground. The phantom watched him kick her again and again. The small body jerked and cried out with each blow. The man began to grunt with the effort. He stopped and looked down at the small figure lying on the ground. It struggled to get up, but the man kicke dit once more. This time it moved no more. The phantom watched the man stumble away and then turned his eyes upon the small body. Should he help her? The thought briefly crossed his mind, but he did no such thing.
After several minutes, the girl struggled to her hands and knees, in obvous pain. She groped around in the dark until she found a wall. She used it to steady herself as she got to her feet. She began to feel her way about in the dark. The phantom, satisfied that she would find her way out, fled.
It might have been a barely audible footfall, or a small draft from the large cape he wore, but something caused the girl to call out. "Hello, who is there?" no answer. The girl realized that whoever had been there, was there no more. She moved on, feeling her way through the dark.
The girl was slowly, but surely, making her way towards his home, though she did not yet know it. The opera ghost was becomong anxious. There had been no one here since Christine. He now wished to be left in peace. He now decided to help her out of here and began to move towards her. Somithing in his head told him to stop and he studied the girl more closely. She looked to be around 18, with long starwberry blond hair that fell to her waist in lose curls. He then knew what was different about her. Although there was enough light to see, the girl still groped around as if it was pitch black. It then struck him. She must be blind. He hadn't noticed here strangly pale eyes. Blind. That meant she couldn't see him. She would never know what he looked like. Could he possibly find a friend in this lost girl. No, never. He could not bear to have another here. He could not survive his heart being torn asunder again. He needed to help this girl out, she would never know who he was.
He approached quietly, but she somehow knew he was there. "Hello, is anyone there? I need help, I-I've hurt my wrist, it mught be broken."
"I bleive i can be of assistance to you." He tried a smile, but then remembered she could not see it. "My name is Erik."
The girl breathed in sharply, fear shown clearly on her face. Erik regretted what he had just said. She had heard of him, knew his name.
"I can help you out of this tomb," he said and reached for her wrist. She flinched but did not pull away. "come this way," he began to lead her back the way she had come.
"No" it was only a whisper. Erik looked back. The fear on her face now greater that when she had first discovered his identity. "No." This time louder. "Don't make me go back there. I can't go back that way, please." She struggled against his iron grip. The girl was hysterical. She twisted and thrashed until the phantom let her got for fear of injury.
"Wait," he called after her, but she was already running away from him.
"Yer not my daughter," the words were slurred togehter. The man was drunk. "You've caused 'nough trouble." He dragged the girl behind him.
The opera ghost watched from the mask of his shadows. He watched the girl struggle fiercly. She flung her small fist into his side and broke free. She started to run but the man was still quick, even through his drunkeness. He pulled the girl close to him and she tried to hit him again. He slapped her across the face and threw her to the ground. The phantom watched him kick her again and again. The small body jerked and cried out with each blow. The man began to grunt with the effort. He stopped and looked down at the small figure lying on the ground. It struggled to get up, but the man kicke dit once more. This time it moved no more. The phantom watched the man stumble away and then turned his eyes upon the small body. Should he help her? The thought briefly crossed his mind, but he did no such thing.
After several minutes, the girl struggled to her hands and knees, in obvous pain. She groped around in the dark until she found a wall. She used it to steady herself as she got to her feet. She began to feel her way about in the dark. The phantom, satisfied that she would find her way out, fled.
It might have been a barely audible footfall, or a small draft from the large cape he wore, but something caused the girl to call out. "Hello, who is there?" no answer. The girl realized that whoever had been there, was there no more. She moved on, feeling her way through the dark.
The girl was slowly, but surely, making her way towards his home, though she did not yet know it. The opera ghost was becomong anxious. There had been no one here since Christine. He now wished to be left in peace. He now decided to help her out of here and began to move towards her. Somithing in his head told him to stop and he studied the girl more closely. She looked to be around 18, with long starwberry blond hair that fell to her waist in lose curls. He then knew what was different about her. Although there was enough light to see, the girl still groped around as if it was pitch black. It then struck him. She must be blind. He hadn't noticed here strangly pale eyes. Blind. That meant she couldn't see him. She would never know what he looked like. Could he possibly find a friend in this lost girl. No, never. He could not bear to have another here. He could not survive his heart being torn asunder again. He needed to help this girl out, she would never know who he was.
He approached quietly, but she somehow knew he was there. "Hello, is anyone there? I need help, I-I've hurt my wrist, it mught be broken."
"I bleive i can be of assistance to you." He tried a smile, but then remembered she could not see it. "My name is Erik."
The girl breathed in sharply, fear shown clearly on her face. Erik regretted what he had just said. She had heard of him, knew his name.
"I can help you out of this tomb," he said and reached for her wrist. She flinched but did not pull away. "come this way," he began to lead her back the way she had come.
"No" it was only a whisper. Erik looked back. The fear on her face now greater that when she had first discovered his identity. "No." This time louder. "Don't make me go back there. I can't go back that way, please." She struggled against his iron grip. The girl was hysterical. She twisted and thrashed until the phantom let her got for fear of injury.
"Wait," he called after her, but she was already running away from him.