A/N- Sorry it took me sooooo long to update...you REALLY don't want to know
my schedule...plus I was banned because of my bro...sorry if this is too short!
A/N again- Some people were questioning why Erik stabbed the person instead of Punjabed them...I will tell you right now, he is saving it for someone else...he only has one shot (Pirates of the Caribbean quote...I LOVE YOU, WILL!!!!) at Punjabing someone cause the magic is wearing out of it since it had been sitting useless for a whole year. Also, I don't know if they had fingerprint technology back then...OOPS! Thanks, Nit-picker for pointing those things out! This chappie is all in Erik's point of view (second person, not first...sorry!)...I just need to have at least ONE of those, right? Hope you like!!!!! R/R please!!!!!! I need them!!!!!!
VI. Eerie blackness, cold night, hatred from hell, scarred for life...this is how he felt. No, this is how he was. A creature formed in the pitch- blackness of the night, never to be seen by the angels, for they would cry tears to destroy the earth. He could not even bear to think of himself, let alone look at himself. He was forever cursed by the devil to roam for as long as he lived with a damned face that his own mother would not comfort.
Erik looked down into the streets below. He chuckled at the memory of his mother. She had been a beauty. The soft, creamy brown hair that framed her delicate face was curly; her face was always half covered in make-up, which made her look none the less beautiful; her bright rouge lips, her pale eyes, her high cheekbones. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever known...other than Christine.
Erik had never seen his mother happy. She always had a look of fear in her eyes, a feel of hatred in her every menacing step. She had shown every inch of her hatred in everything she did to him. He would back up against the wall and cry silent tears at her beatings and merciless torture. He remembered every cut, every bruise, every wound. He would bandage and care for his wounds which would reopen the next beating.
At night, Erik would hear his mother sulking by her window. She had always cried to herself and her God that it was not fair that she had given birth to a Devil child. She would stay up night after night after night and talk to the God who had played this evil trick on her. Erik would stay up night after night after night listening to her, crying with her though his room was farther away from hers. Every night while listening, he would wonder the same things as his cruel mother did. Why did God send him to this beautiful woman? Why must he be deformed? Was he even sent from God? Could possibly the Devil have sent him?
The day his mother left him was a rainy day. He woke up that morning with a positive attitude. He would do his best to make his mother happy that day. He did not know why that day was so special, he just felt that he should do something for her. He walked down the stairs and into the living room where he saw a black suitcase sitting in the middle of the floor. He also saw carry bags and purses strewn across the carpet. One bag was open, and he saw clothes being hastily shoved in. He strode to the bag and looked inside at the clothes. His mother had bought those not too long ago. He dropped the bag and did not look down to see the contents spill out across the floor. His mother was leaving. She walked in to see her bag right next to her son and the contents all around.
"Where are you going, Mother?", he cried.
"Don't you call me that!", she screamed to him, giving him a blow across his cheek. He tasted the blood in his mouth.
"Where are you going, Mother?", he asked again.
She never answered. He heard the slamming of the door and felt the tears pouring down his cheeks. He looked out of the rain soaked window to see a carriage pulling away from his house...away from him.
The Phantom reached up to his eye to find a tear rolling down his cheek. That horrid childhood was too much. The gypsies had been no kinder than his own mother. They had beat him in the same way. He was shoved into a cage instead of receiving a nice room or tent as did all the others. He finally ran away from the prison, but he was scarred by the memory.
He was still burdened by the fact that no one had accepted him for who he was. His mother had met an end upon her own hands because she could not bear the memory of her son plaguing her mind. The Persian empire had turned upon him, almost executing him. Christine had been the worst of them all. He gave her a beautiful voice, a home, the stage, and love. She had taken her voice and fled, sacrificing her lover's life at his wish. But, some things are not as they seem. Some things that were, are again. Something is going around all of Paris; something mysterious, beautiful, horrifying. No one knows...no one but Erik.
Erik looked down into the streets below...always looking, never being...
A/N: Very sorry for the shortness of the chappie...my muse is getting ready for the swim meet on Saturday...wish me luck (cause if I break two personal bests, I get to go see Troy!!!!! I LOVE YOU, ORLANDO!!!) !!!!!!!!! You may now review...go on, review...ugh, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! REVIEW!!!!!!!!!
PS- This will be my last chappie until next Friday cause I am going on a Youth Group Trip and won't get back till late next Thursday, so I will miss you all and review while I'm gone!!!!
A/N again- Some people were questioning why Erik stabbed the person instead of Punjabed them...I will tell you right now, he is saving it for someone else...he only has one shot (Pirates of the Caribbean quote...I LOVE YOU, WILL!!!!) at Punjabing someone cause the magic is wearing out of it since it had been sitting useless for a whole year. Also, I don't know if they had fingerprint technology back then...OOPS! Thanks, Nit-picker for pointing those things out! This chappie is all in Erik's point of view (second person, not first...sorry!)...I just need to have at least ONE of those, right? Hope you like!!!!! R/R please!!!!!! I need them!!!!!!
VI. Eerie blackness, cold night, hatred from hell, scarred for life...this is how he felt. No, this is how he was. A creature formed in the pitch- blackness of the night, never to be seen by the angels, for they would cry tears to destroy the earth. He could not even bear to think of himself, let alone look at himself. He was forever cursed by the devil to roam for as long as he lived with a damned face that his own mother would not comfort.
Erik looked down into the streets below. He chuckled at the memory of his mother. She had been a beauty. The soft, creamy brown hair that framed her delicate face was curly; her face was always half covered in make-up, which made her look none the less beautiful; her bright rouge lips, her pale eyes, her high cheekbones. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever known...other than Christine.
Erik had never seen his mother happy. She always had a look of fear in her eyes, a feel of hatred in her every menacing step. She had shown every inch of her hatred in everything she did to him. He would back up against the wall and cry silent tears at her beatings and merciless torture. He remembered every cut, every bruise, every wound. He would bandage and care for his wounds which would reopen the next beating.
At night, Erik would hear his mother sulking by her window. She had always cried to herself and her God that it was not fair that she had given birth to a Devil child. She would stay up night after night after night and talk to the God who had played this evil trick on her. Erik would stay up night after night after night listening to her, crying with her though his room was farther away from hers. Every night while listening, he would wonder the same things as his cruel mother did. Why did God send him to this beautiful woman? Why must he be deformed? Was he even sent from God? Could possibly the Devil have sent him?
The day his mother left him was a rainy day. He woke up that morning with a positive attitude. He would do his best to make his mother happy that day. He did not know why that day was so special, he just felt that he should do something for her. He walked down the stairs and into the living room where he saw a black suitcase sitting in the middle of the floor. He also saw carry bags and purses strewn across the carpet. One bag was open, and he saw clothes being hastily shoved in. He strode to the bag and looked inside at the clothes. His mother had bought those not too long ago. He dropped the bag and did not look down to see the contents spill out across the floor. His mother was leaving. She walked in to see her bag right next to her son and the contents all around.
"Where are you going, Mother?", he cried.
"Don't you call me that!", she screamed to him, giving him a blow across his cheek. He tasted the blood in his mouth.
"Where are you going, Mother?", he asked again.
She never answered. He heard the slamming of the door and felt the tears pouring down his cheeks. He looked out of the rain soaked window to see a carriage pulling away from his house...away from him.
The Phantom reached up to his eye to find a tear rolling down his cheek. That horrid childhood was too much. The gypsies had been no kinder than his own mother. They had beat him in the same way. He was shoved into a cage instead of receiving a nice room or tent as did all the others. He finally ran away from the prison, but he was scarred by the memory.
He was still burdened by the fact that no one had accepted him for who he was. His mother had met an end upon her own hands because she could not bear the memory of her son plaguing her mind. The Persian empire had turned upon him, almost executing him. Christine had been the worst of them all. He gave her a beautiful voice, a home, the stage, and love. She had taken her voice and fled, sacrificing her lover's life at his wish. But, some things are not as they seem. Some things that were, are again. Something is going around all of Paris; something mysterious, beautiful, horrifying. No one knows...no one but Erik.
Erik looked down into the streets below...always looking, never being...
A/N: Very sorry for the shortness of the chappie...my muse is getting ready for the swim meet on Saturday...wish me luck (cause if I break two personal bests, I get to go see Troy!!!!! I LOVE YOU, ORLANDO!!!) !!!!!!!!! You may now review...go on, review...ugh, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! REVIEW!!!!!!!!!
PS- This will be my last chappie until next Friday cause I am going on a Youth Group Trip and won't get back till late next Thursday, so I will miss you all and review while I'm gone!!!!