A/N: Some of you have been mentioning that Erik is being 'too mean' in this story. I just want to adress this; I'm writing him as I perceive what his character would be like after Christine left him. So, he has tons of reason to be angry at everyone and everything. But, I also put in elements of the other side of Erik, the passionate, caring side. I want to effectively mix both to create a fully dimensional character, one with flaws as well as strengths.

Trust. It's a very odd thing. It can be lost as easily as it is gained, and as I would come to find out, nearly impossible to re-create once its feeble walls have been torn down. As completely ludicrous as it sounds, on some level, I actually did trust Erik. I could only assume that some miniscule amount of trust was placed in me if only to keep His secret. He had to have trusted me. Trusted me enough to let me touch Him, if only for a fleeting moment. Trusted me enough to allow me to sleep in that sacred room, that sanctified shrine dedicated to His deepest obsession.

And I, in turn, had believed in Him. I believed that He would never hurt me, that this cursed angel was not the abhorrent monster that He seemed. It was true that I had doubted Him, when He carried me off like some prisoner down to His home, but still faith remained, against my better judgment. When He threw me in that horrendous forest, everything changed. My trust was shattered. I truly thought that I would die down there, that this fantasy I had been dreaming up had turned into a macabre nightmare. It was then that I realized how utterly foolish I had been. I had entrusted Him with my safety, my life, but most of all my heart.

Then, the most curious thing happened. For He actually released me from that desert prison, laying me upon a bed. He cared for me, tended to my needs, even sang me to sleep. Perhaps, He felt remorse for how He had treated me. Maybe even a little bit of regret for His actions.

I, of course, had been sure to destroy that. The minute that viral notion crept into my mind, the moment I decided to abuse what little trust He had given me, I unintentionally doomed myself. Could I really blame Him for being so angry? The stalemate we found ourselves in was both of our doings. Each of us, no more or less guilty than the other.

All my life I had shielded myself from others. Constructed bridges only to burn them down in the end. But with Him, it was different. It was if I had no choice in the matter. He fascinated me and frightened me at the same time, a lethal combination. I had experienced feelings I never knew existed before.

I fell. Hard and fast. And He knew it all too well.

Everything was different now.

'You must suffer the consequences.'

I had no doubt that I would. I would get the repercussions I deserved for trusting in a ghost. For actually believing He was a good man, misunderstood, but nevertheless a good man. How wrong I had been! Those deceiving moments of tenderness, of displaying false affection, had all been an act. Each move premeditated and planned, luring me ever closer to His trap. Erik was a predator, and I had become His willing prey.

Here I stood, mere inches away from Him, my dream. My nightmare.

Everything would be different now.

I decided that if indeed Erik did intend to keep me down here, which I had no doubt of His intentions, I would not play the wilting damsel in distress.

Still, He stood, imposing His presence on me, His mouth set into a devilish smirk. If I did not know any better, I would say He seemed rather pleased with my betrayal. As if it gave Him raison d'être, an excuse for His actions.

Taking a few small steps back, I straightened my spine, elongating my frame to it's maximum potential. Though it was not much, it did boost my waning confidence.

"And what, monsieur, would those consequences be?" I tried to add as much bravado and resonance to my voice as I could.

"Surely," He scoffed, "if you have heard about her, than I trust those little ballet rats have divulged the many other tales of the Opera Ghost to you. Would I be correct in my assumption?"

I found it difficult not to add even more distance between us as Erik casually slid forward. My bare feet kept retreating as I pushed a lump down in my throat. I had, of course, heard all there was to hear about the horrendous accounts the compagnie de ballet swore were true. I could only now presume that they did not mislead me, for I truly understood now what Erik was, and was not capable of.

"Yes," I breathed, my steps being halted by a wall. Erik seized this opportunity to employ His seductively daunting nature on me. He made sure His body stood just far enough away from me so there was no physical contact, but He was so close I could feel the heat emanating from His chest. His breath whispered on my neck with a mocking gentleness that contrasted to the bruised flesh. A finger slowly slid down my shoulder, outlining the curves of my arm. I closed my eyes, preparing myself for another physical punishment. All courage that I displayed earlier was gone, now cunningly manipulated away. His touch did not entice me anymore. No longer did it hold that intriguing sense of electricity that seemed to send shivers up and down my spine. Now it was cold, unfeeling, and strangely uncomfortable. It felt like death.

"Please…please, Erik. Stop," my voice was barely above a whisper, "stop."

With a childish whimper of pleading, the hands ceased their movement. I could hear Him sigh, the faint clicking of His boots retreating away from my shaking form. I slowly opened my eyes. At first, I stole a glimpse of Erik, His back turned to me, hands casually clasped behind Him, but when He turned toward me once again, my sight faltered. I had to look away. I cringed as I heard Him advance, would He punish me for sniveling like an imprudent child? Before I could answer my own question, I saw Him shift His weight to one leg out of the corner of my eyes, as if waiting for some form of acknowledgement. It slightly amused me, and I relished that I had found Him, the ever aloof ghost, to have very little patience. One would think that spending so much time alone would only increase the level of tolerance. One would be wrong in that assumption.

I lifted my head to meet His gaze. My waves were tangled, sticking about my face in various places. One very large lock hung profoundly over my left brow, drooping down the length of my face, completely obscuring my vision. I lifted my hand to push it away, but stopped myself before I could, as Erik had already risen to the occasion. The leather was cool on my overheated skin as He gently brushed my hair aside. I would have taken more pleasure in His peculiar touch, and His odd sense of timing, but I reminded myself that He was different now. He was not the same man I had taken interest in weeks ago. He was violent, temperamental, and yet, so perplexing. The fact pulsed in my head, repeating itself over and over again Now, I found it necessary to continually remind myself when Erik lingered so close to me, displaying veiled sentiments or affection. False affection, I reminded myself.

I licked my dry lips, willing them to open and speak. "What do you intend to do with me?" I could have slapped myself for my ignorance. He coiled away at the words, slipping into that ominous dark side of His personality. Why must I always ruin the moment with my constant babbling?

"Follow me."

And with an elaborate swish of His hand, He willed me to pursue. I timidly shadowed His large steps, having to nearly run to keep up with His rapid pace. Impatient, indeed! He stopped in front of a door, very near to the location of Christine's former boudoir. I nearly fainted at the prospect of another torture chamber, but was relieved when I found nothing more than a simple room behind the door. I shot Erik a questioning look, and was answered with an arrogant smirk as He ushered me inside the room. It was not nearly as elaborate as Christine's, but it was charming in it's simplicity. A bed, small wardrobe, and mirror-less vanity were compiled into the room, cluttering what little space that existed. I stepped further inside, all the while looking back at Erik who leaned against the door frame, arms folded in a rather brash manner.

"The bath is through that door there," He pointed across the room. I noticed His eyebrows arc in amusement, His mouth threatening to break into a sinister grin.

"I am confused, Erik," I admitted sheepishly, searching His eyes for any kind of answer.

It was no use. A malevolent, sickening smile spread over His face, I swore I could hear Him chuckle under His breath. "I hope you will enjoy your stay here, Alessandra. I am told that my abode can be rather…accommodating," He motioned to the furnishings.

My heart skipped a beat. Fear, immense and heavy, beat down on my lungs, crushing all the air out through my mouth. Erik had just confirmed what I had secretly dreaded, but always knew. He intended to keep me down here, as a prisoner. He would keep me until I was dead, until He had inflicted all the numerous, unspeakable punishments that glinted behind those fatal hazel eyes.

"You are keeping me down here?"

"Why, yes of course, mademoiselle," He retorted mockingly, "Since you find yourself so knowledgeable of the Opera Ghost's proceedings, surely you must know that no one has ever seen behind the mask and lived to tell about it."

I shook my head in disbelief. Stinging, salty tears threatened to flood over my eyelashes. "That's not true!" I yelled, "What about her, what about Christine?"

"Do not speak her name!" He screamed, stepping towards me. I backed away, retreating behind the bed frame, clutching the wrought iron for protection.

I wailed through my tears. "Erik, please, I meant no harm! I only wanted to see because…" I could not bring myself to reveal the truth. He would have never believed my affection to be true, not now. Not after everything else.

My sallow eyes turned to His, their russet depths swimming with tacit secrets waiting to rise. They silently begged for forgiveness, for understanding.

"See? You lie! Everything is a deception with you, Alessandra! Do not mock me with your pathetic attempts for pardon!"

"People will look for me Erik! Or have you forgotten that Charlotte knows of our correspondence? You cannot keep me down here forever!" I panicked, threatening Him seemed fitting in lieu of the situation.

"We'll see about that."

I could think of nothing else to do, nothing else to say. I gave into Him and let the tears fall freely. I sobbed and choked through my cries, my throat turning raw from the strain. I threw all manner and dignity aside. How could I possibly act properly in such a situation? I flung myself on the bed in the heat of my tantrum, inwardly I hoped He would grow agitated with my weakness and release me out of pity.

Remaining down here, with Him, forever, was too much to handle. I fell apart, all resolve to appear strong and confidant dissipating with the tears.

I saw Erik, through my blurry eyes, begin to pace around the room. He raked His hands through His hair once more, as I had seen Him do in the great room earlier. Now it was at a more frantic pace, His eyes narrowing, wincing in pain. Before I could react, Erik ran over to me, steadying me by placing His hands on my shoulders. It was not painful, but He applied just enough strength to keep me from escaping. He started shaking me, my teeth rattling against each other, I cried out for Him to stop. He did not.

His eyes were somewhere far away from here, though they stared directly into my own. I could tell that He was not fully aware of His acts, not fully in control of Himself.

"Please, Christine! Stop…stop screaming Christine!" He pleaded.

I snapped my mouth shut. I was rather shocked at this sudden outburst and relented, softly hiccupping as I regained some composure.

Suddenly, He was brought back into reality. Staring down at me, He gasped and released me. His mouth opened, but nothing came out except unintelligible stutter. His visible flesh on His face flushed a dangerous scarlet, and He backed away from me, staring like I had suddenly transformed into a frightening monster.

"Alessandra," He reassured Himself, "Alessandra, stop," He whispered, burying His face in the leather of His gloves. He appeared so miserable, so heartbroken, it would have been inhuman not to feel a pang of sympathy for Him. What had I done to Him? I thought, at that moment, I must have reminded Him of Christine. Begging for mercy, wailing for forgiveness. I knew it must have hurt Him terribly to realize the similarity of the situations. I imagined this notion would have empowered me, had I not felt so horrible for bringing such pain to Him. Though He inflicted physical force on me, I knew all too well the emotional damage was far more excruciating. Even if He despised me and tormented me, I was not the type of person to be malicious simply for spite. I would not hurt Erik that way.

I sniffled and wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand. Erik lifted His head, but refused to look at me. "You are more than welcome to leave anytime you wish, but I highly doubt you will be able to navigate your way out of this labyrinth alive." With a gesture of finality He turned to leave, stopping at the threshold of the door.

I seized the opportunity, for I did not know when I would get another chance to speak with Him. I utilized the only strength over Him I possessed, and whimpered in my most distressed voice, "Do not do this Erik. I am not her, please don't do this."

Instead of scolding me for mentioning Christine, He simply hung His head, a droopy arm clasping the handle of the door.

"No, you are not."