4
Five days, and Raoul cannot distinguish between his need to escape, and his longing for death. His throat burns with the air he has been sucking in, and it is still bruised with a thick purple ring that goes all the way around his neck. His hair is dirty, and limp, and for two whole days he has not seen Erik. It seems impossible, that, because the cavern they are condemned to is so small, and there should be no room to hide.
He knows Erik is not hiding, he is grieving. His pounding away at the organ, angry, sorrowful notes drowning out his heavy, heaving, panting sobs. Perhaps on anyone else, they would be pitiful, but the man in the other cave is a chained monster, and his tears are more like the roars of a wounded lion. If he thinks Raoul cannot hear him then he is truly mad. Or perhaps he does know, and Raoul is of no more worth to him than the rats that gather in the winding catacombs of his dungeons.
Raoul moans, weakly, and strains against his chains. They chafe at his moist flesh, and he is left to listen to the howls of a new Lucifer in a deep, private Hell.
