A/N: Yeah, so this is a rather short chapter! I really couldn't find a way to effectively blend the next 2 chapters together, so I split them up to add to the drama! And I just know that you all cant resist a good cliffhanger! LoL! As always, please R&R!

I collapsed into puddle on the floor, my arms wrapped protectively around me knees, my head buried into them. I knew, as soon as the mask thudded upon the cold, concrete floor, that I had made a mistake. A grave mistake.

I only wanted Him to know that His deformity made no difference to me, I loved Him for who He was. Love? No, I didn't love Him. I could never love anyone. I admired Him, His aura of mystery, His intoxicatingly seductive voice. I was drawn to Him, like a month thoughtlessly meandering towards a flame. There was no logic to describe my attraction to Erik, I doubt there are even words that could accurately depict my feelings for Him. I only knew what I felt, trusted what my heart relentlessly screamed to my head.

I felt His hand grip my shoulder, and He yanked me upwards. His eyes glowed with a feral capacity I had not seen before, they seemed to burn holes through my body. I looked away but He seized my cheeks, painfully pinching them together as He forced my head to meet His own.

"You promised you would never deceive me! Lies! All lies!" He spat at me, His lustrous white teeth gleaming in a scowl, His grip tightened and I could almost hear my bone crunching underneath His clutch. I whimpered in pain, hoping He would release me.

"You wanted to see Le Fantôme d'Opéra?" His hand clasped tighter, "Well, Mademoiselle…" Even tighter! "You…will get…your…wish!" and with a final squeeze, I felt my jaw lock. I could barely speak for as words came out of my mouth, they were nearly undistinguishable. The pain that emanated from my throbbing chin was so intense, so overwhelming, still it did not deter me from trying to make Him understand.

"Erik, please, I only wanted to-"

"Silence!" He erupted, His body shaking from expelling the thunderous word. His hand left my face and seized hold of my wrists, pushing them behind me, up against the wall.

This time, I did not stifle my discomfort. I let out a dreadful cry of pain, my voice wailing as my mangled hands smacked against the solid stone.

All that I had hoped of, all that I had dreamed of was now gone. Disappearing before my eyes. This was not the man that tenderly wrapped my bloodied fingers, soothing me with His gentle stroke upon my wrists. This was not the man who had saved me from a demented stagehand, helping to smooth my skirts back into place. This was the monster whom everyone else had warned me of. This was the notoriously deranged O.G., who tormented the cast of the Opera House, who kidnapped and murdered innocent people. This was the Phantom of the Opera.

And I had just committed the worst of sins.

For the first time I had known of Him, I truly was frightened for my life. Of course Charlotte, the cast, everyone at L'Opera Populaire had warned me that He was indeed a murderer, that He had killed for seemingly no reason time after time. Why did I think I was so different?

He was hovering above me, mocking me with His body's sheer audacity. I was small, just barely reaching above five feet, and He had much more than several inches on me. His broad chest heaved against my lesser bosom, digging the whale bone of my corset deeper into the skin with every breath. During any other circumstance I would have appreciated, even admired His masculine physique. Now it was an obstacle that I could not overcome, it was merely a tool that He employed to weaken me, make me feel inferior.

His eyes now took on an angry shade of yellow, the softer green receding into the depths of His pupils. I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could utter any words, any cries for help, another voice emerged from the shadows.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" the voice was shaky, but definitely distinguishable as a man's. It was probably one of the dancers returning to their dormitory, I hoped he had heard my struggle and would send for help.

Almost knowing what my reaction would be, Erik clasped His hand over my mouth, muffling my pleas. The footsteps approached, the soft tap of his shoes growing louder with every passing second. I looked at Erik who was now searching about the hallway, no doubt devising some plan for escape. I prayed that He would leave, return home to His dark cave and never bestow His awful presence on me again. Or did I?

Before I could answer my own thought, Erik hoisted me over His shoulder and darted quickly into my room, the door clicking softly shut behind Him. I struggled, I kicked and punched into His back, the cape ruffling with my futile attempts. He strode over to the mirror and tapped the floor with His foot, the mirror sliding open seconds later. He walked through the threshold, me still tightly bound in His clutches.

Oh God! Oh horror! He wished to take me with Him! Down there, into the depths of the Opera House! Into the Hell in which He resided!