A/N: I'm glad that all of you seemed to like the way that I portrayed Erik through his letter. I'm fairly certain that he won't be making an appearance in this chapter! But I promise you that he will be in the next chapter!

This story is being beta'd by my good friend and writer Cyber-Eyes! She's the person that corrects all of my horrible grammar errors!

Also please note that I am making references to the Broadway production of Phantom. I liked the play's ending better…the movie was just too boring!


Chapter 3

My God, Who Is This Man?

I stood, staring in shock down at the note clasped tightly in my hand. "My God, who is this man?" I thought frantically to myself. What did he want with me? How had he gotten inside of my room – when it had been locked all along!

I reread the letter, my eyes grazing over the sprawling handwriting. There was one thing, apart from the outright demand of completing his tasks was the name he had called me:

Cara

That was the name that most of the men who had used me gave me. I shuddered at the very thought of those men, as they had leaned over me, their large, greasy bodies touching my own bare one. The look of hunger in their eyes as they ran dirty hands through my hair, they reminded my of a hungry jackal and it's prey.

Though how had this man, that I presumably didn't know, find out the name that I been called for so long? Though, a thought suddenly struck through my mind, perhaps that this letter was a threat – from that man – that man who had brought me here. He perhaps it was he who had sent this demanding letter! That had to be it, who else would know that name!

Though the letter had been signed by a certain O.G, what could those initials stands for? I sat back down on the bed, in silent exhaustion; my midnight oil was burning away. I turned over in bed, snuggling under the covers, relieved that I was not sharing the bed with anyone. I figured that this mysterious letter would have to wait until morning.


Dawn at the Opera Populaire brought about much work, so much work, that it pushed all of the thoughts of the letter out of my mind. Madame Giry had me running to all parts of the large Opera House on various errands. From notifying some dancers who were purposely skipping practice to picking up the train of the leading soprano, Carlotta's, dress.

Though by midmorning I was exhausted, I had fell asleep very late the night before, and my midnight oil had been well burned. I leaned heavily against a set piece for an upcoming production, my eyes drifting down…and I wished that I could fall asleep right then and there.

There was an almost eerie silence around me, as most of the dancers had retired to their chambers after the morning's practice had ended. I had told Madame Giry that I wished to return to my room for a brief time, though, once again I had somehow gotten lost in the labyrinth of passages that was the Opera House.

I didn't know exactly where I was, I had thought that I had been following the right corridor back to my room, but when I had descended down countless flights of stairs, turned several sharp corners, I had found myself in this room.

It was a large room, with high ceilings. There were various set pieces all around me, some large, like the giant elephant that I was leaning against; to small pieces, such as an unlit lamp nearby. I figured that I would have to be leaving soon, go back out in the hallway and attempt to find my room again. Though right now, I was taking a quick rest.

Suddenly, there was the sound of footsteps in the room. I stood up instantly, and listened, my ears straining for those sounds. Surely enough, they came again, this time closer to where I was standing! They were precise, light footsteps as if the person didn't wish to be found. I found this intoxicating – here I was – trapped in one of the opera's many cellars with someone hunting me down!

Panic engulfed my body, as I wondered who was in here with me. "Who is there?" I asked, my voice high and squeaky, laced with fear.

There came no reply, except for the silence of the room. I decided to move, small steps at first, growing into larger ones as I looked for who was in the room with me. Then I saw the slightest movement, a swirl of black upon the diminishing light of the room. I moved quickly, trying to catch up with however was in front of me. I was so close, the opposite wall was nearing, this mysterious figure would have no where to go!

I was so close…when…

"Carolina?" Meg's girlish voice rose over the room. I could see her lantern light from here.

"Meg!" I called, relieved. "I am here!" I yelled again, as the light slowly began making its way toward me.

In a moment Meg appeared her face white in the lantern light. "What are you doing down here?" She whispered, and I saw for a split second panic cross over her face.

"I got lost," I said helplessly, shrugging my shoulders.

"It is not a good thing to get lost in the cellars of the opera, Carolina, for this is the ghost's domain," Meg said, leading me up a flight of stairs into a well lit hallway.

"The ghost?" I questioned again, my eyebrows arching quizzically.

Meg shook her head once and continued walking down the hallway. "Meg," I pleaded running up and grabbing her by her shoulders, forcing her to turn towards me. "Tell me about this ghost."

The petite ballet girl nodded once, weakly, in understanding and led me through a door into my own room. I sat down on the bed, and Meg followed suit, sitting beside me. "The ghost…?" I began for her.

Meg swallowed before saying, softly at first, "I suppose that you have heard about the strange affair between Christine Daae, the Viscountess, and the Phantom of the Opera?" Meg asked me as I shook my head yes. The strange events that had gone on in the Opera House had ravaged all of Paris, even lowlifes, such as myself, had heard of what had happened.

"It began long before; the Phantom had been giving Christine singing lessons ever since she had first been brought to the Opera as a little girl. Christine thought that he was her Angel of Music, a legend that her father had promised her on his deathbed. Though as she grew older the Phantom's passion for her intensified greatly: he began blackmailing Andre and Firmin, who were the new managers at that time. He was so desperate for her – he killed for her – he sent the chandelier falling down at a performance of Il Muto.'

'Though it did not end there, the chandelier event was only the beginning. Though after it fell, he disappeared for the longest time, six months, to be exact. In that time period we received no notes, we heard nothing of him. Then on the night of the Bal Masque he returned, clothed as Red Death. He frightened the managers with a sword, threatened all who were there before disappearing again.'

'He had given the managers an opera that they were to perform. It was called Don Juan Triumphant, a rather bizarre piece, but the managers were so intimidated by his presence that they complied. It was then that Raoul, the Vicomte de Changy, came up with a plan. They were going to ensnare the Phantom in his own trap.'

'The night of Don Juan the managers and Raoul brought in several Bobbies, they stationed them all around the opera house, ensuing that the Phantom would not escape. Though they were all blind to the Phantom's plan, for the Phantom killed Piangi, the leading baritone for many seasons, and came on stage, disguised. No one knew, no one even gave the slightest thought that he would do this.'

'Though his plan was ruined when Christine ripped off his mask, in front of the full opera house. He then took Christine down to his cellar, Raoul, Christine's lover, went after her. I followed in pursuit, bringing the mob of stage hands and angry opera goers with me. '

'By the time we finally reached the cellars, Christine and Raoul had gone; apparently the Phantom had let them go. He lifted up the gate so that we could come in, so for what we thought would be the capture. Though as he sat in his chair, he pulled a curtain overtop of him. By the time we had gotten there, he was gone – all that remained what the white mask that he wore. We have heard nothing of him since," Meg explained to me, her voice low and sullen.

"What happened to him?" I questioned eager to find out.

"Dead, I suppose, we have had no notes demanding anything, no threats, no strange events for the past year," Meg replied, before standing up. "And for that I am glad," she admitted, "That this Angel of Music, the Phantom of the Opera, O.G, whatever his name may be, is gone."

Then with those final words she bade me good afternoon, saying that she had practice with the corps de ballet in several minutes and she did not want to be late.

As I sat in the now empty room, my eyes traveled over to the letter, still lying unfolded on my nightstand. Then a sudden thought struck me…

The letter had been signed by anO.G!


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Erik in the next chapter!