14

Since he saw the completed portrait four days ago, only one thing has plagued the Vicomte's thoughts. After almost two months alone, trapped like an animal, a fly to the spider, Raoul finds he can think rationally late at night. Erik does not sleep in his bed, or anywhere near that Raoul can find, so Raoul has taken it upon himself to use it. He thinks of the painting. Decides. Obsesses.

She is no longer what she used to be to him, love, his heart. Raoul has starved. He has been left naked in the cold. He has been chained with no room to sit up or raise his head. He has dwelt in misery. She is a symbol of what was, and being the last image he saw of the world above, back when there was no pain to fear, she is a symbol of what could be. His freedom.

Raoul has spent weeks studying the exits and entrances of the Phantom. Long after Erik has tried, he crawls from the bed and attempts escape. It is hopeless from the moment it begins, and Raoul only meets an enraged Phantom. He manages to strike out first, an open-palmed cuff on the deformed side of his face, but Erik, when his howl of pain ceases has already gained on him. He is beaten, rightfully. Erik shows no mercy, as he plucks Raoul's mewling form from the rocky floor and drags him with gritted teeth to the bank of the lake. Raoul does not want to go back into the water, and his fingers scrabble helplessly along the crevices of stone as Erik pulls him in.

It is cold, and Raoul cries out as he goes rigid, struggling. Erik wraps him in chains, and the water splashes violently all about him, cold. Erik hits him, once, twice, hard across the face.

"Never touch me again," he growls, turning to leave. Raoul's head hangs limp from his neck. He does not think he will live to.