I nearly screamed as a bullet just passed my head. To my surprise, the Phantom grabbed me by the arm and ran swiftly, not looking back once. I barely knew what was going on. All I heard were gunshots firing. I tried to keep up as hard as I could without having him pull my arm out of its socket. Before I knew it, I was wrapped in his black cape, allowing me to pick my feet up to refrain from running as he held it tightly around me.

"You're too slow!" he complained in annoyance. I ignored his rude remark. Soon, I felt a strong arm under my thighs and another one under my back as he carried me off, my head bolting around in horror.

The gunshots kept firing at us, but I couldn't hear them anymore. I felt as if I were flying at the pace and swiftness he was running. I nearly lost my balance, grasping his shoulders to keep myself up. He seemed not to notice, for he didn't move his head from looking forward.

He made many turns and went up many stairs. I was amazed at how much energy and strength he had, for it seemed he wasn't the least bit tired.

The police, it seemed, had finally given up their search, because I didn't hear anymore guns being fired for several minutes. The phantom came to a sharp stop after turning a corner in the hall. He set me down hastily, and then casually began to walk off as if nothing happened.

I followed him in confusion; taking off my long coat for it seemed it was no more use disguising myself, revealing a white long sleeved shirt and baggy black trousers. "Hey! Wait a minute!" I called, running after him. I hesitated before saying anymore as he slowed his pace. He was, after all, the Phantom of the Opera; the opera ghost who was held guilty for numerous murders and thefts.

Finally catching up, I walked anxiously by his side. His pace quickened again. Obviously he wanted to be alone and I noticed, but nevertheless followed him. "Back there, why did you do that?"

He turned around after coming to a complete stop, looking in my eyes for a few seconds. I almost lost myself in his warm emerald eyes. I've never been looked at that way; his eyes seemed to see right through my skin, hitting my heart. I snapped out of it, mentally kicking myself for my thoughts. I didn't really enjoy the mushy love stuff, it always made me sick.

"Oh, and I don't get a thank you?" he remarked sarcastically, his voice full of disgust. He began walking again as I stopped for a moment. Then I began to follow him again.

"No, I'm very grateful that you saved me, but I never thought you would be the one to do it."

I bit my tongue at the statement I made. He kept walking as if I never said anything. I caught up to him again, not knowing why or what I was saying. "I mean, with all of the crimes you've committed, and murders and such-well, at least that's what they say." I came to a conclusion. I felt like a 5 year old begging for candy at the grocery store.

He stopped and looked down at me. "How interesting these words are coming from a young mademoiselle running from the police?" I stared down at the floor as he looked at me with question and interest.