(By the Way thank you all so much for your criticism and comments...I really do appreciate it! I am striving to be a writer as a career so it means a lot to me:)

The old man stood on the street corner, adjacent to the Vicmonte's house. He shuddered thinking about the things that he had witnessed. He himself was homeless and sat most evenings on the corner playing a small instrument for a few francs. Just enough to get a warm drink or a small pastry. He wouldn't dare tell anyone what he witnessed, he would surely be locked up for peeping.

His heart grew sad thinking of the lovely young lady in the flat..how she looked so angelic while she stood by her window and sang, then it was such a shame to see the blonde man, rip her away from the window shouting at her to stop singing, as his palm met her cheek. The man just shook his head and whispered low, "god have mercy on the man who lives there, he has no right hitting a lady" he caught himself in mid sentence and hoped no one had heard him. He turned and made his way to the next corner.

Anger and worry boiled up inside Erik as he made his way back towards the Opera House. The Vicmonte had not been treating Christine as lovingly as he should, and there was something wrong with the man's outlook on life.

Erik froze as he remembered a slight discoloring in Christine's cheek. Perhaps he had not been the cause for the nightmares. Perhaps...

Cursing himself for his stupidity, Erik whirled and hurried back toward's the Vicmonte's flat. How could he have been so blind? Christine was in danger, and he hadn't been smart enough to see it.

That swine, I wonder where he is...that is if he still lives..How can I ask a question a sort of that? No doubt of it, he lives. He lives everywhere. In the Opera House, in my memories...in her. The Vicmonte tightened his fist, reading to make a thrust at whatever he sees next. Secretly hoping it was nightmare of his life just walking in the shadows watching his lover. He could just feel the blackness of the cape, the yellow of his piercing eyes in the darkness, the dull beat of his heart, the hot breath of a disturbed soul. He was coming closer...closer.

"YOU!"

"I KNOW YOU'RE HERE!"

"COME OUT! FACE ME YOU COWARD! HAS NOT ONLY THE SHADOWS RECEIVE YOUR PRESENCE!"

"I CAN BE JUST AS A PREY AS MY WIFE, SEDUCE ME YOUR INNOCENT VICTIM!"

Erik stopped and stared at the Vicmonte, who was bellowing at an empty alleyway. The man had definitely lost his grip on reality. Erik would have to intervene again, but this time it was for Christine's protection. He would not force her hand this time; merely protect her from the madman that had stolen her away from him the first time.
Erik smirked to himself. Ironic, truly, that he should be protecting someone from a madman. Fight fire with fire, madness with madness. Poor Christine; surrounded by demented men who claim to love you. Erik's cloak swirled about him, and he dissolved into blackness.