This is a first POTO phic, please do not totally flame it. It is about Erik, and the weeks after the fire. Christine is gone, and he's feeling a bit upset and remorseful. Disclaimer- I own nothing. So ladies and any gentlemen. La voix à l'intérieur/ The voice inside.
La voix à l'intérieur
"You fool," I thought "You begged on your knees for her to love you, yet she asked for nothing in reply? Was that not evidence she had no love at all for you? You are nothing but a hideous beast! No woman would ever love you! Especially Christine!"
These Conflicting thoughts haunted me since my angel left five weeks. She left me hiding in a destroyed opera house with nothing but a broken heart, piles of paper, and an inviting brandy bottle.
"Maybe it's for the best." Said a voice in my head. "Do fairy tales really exist for monsters?" "
She never called me a monster." I said quietly.
"Not to you one on one, but you heard her when she left with the Vicomte." The Voice said menacingly." As she fled your will, she whispered to him that you were a monster. Just because you love her can not hide that fact that she hates and fears you."
" You lie! I won't listen to you anymore!" I screamed. My voice echoed the lonely stones of the lair. I knew it was only I talking. Some regretful, bitter part of me. Perhaps it was only the brandy.
It did not matter anymore. I am alone with nothing. If I drank no one would.care. Everything is dead to me. Everyone is gone. Christine, Madame Giry, all gone. They saw what I became, what always truly was and it feared them. I looked at the brandy bottle and sighed.
" Will you drink yourself to death?" said the Voice.
" I have nothing else to do. Unless you count talking to you." I said taking a large sip of the intoxicating drink. It burned my throat. But made me feel calm.
" Do something else Erik. Go back to your music. Write a novel. Occupy yourself!" Shouted the Voice in my mind. " Stop pining over a love that never was!"
" You know nothing. You are nothing!" I hissed. " You pine over a spoiled girl and talk to a voice in your head and you say I know and am nothing. But Erik, I know this; I am a part of you. I am you Remorse and yesterday. I can never leave until you do." The Voice said full of malice.
I stared at the bottle in my right hand. Maybe I was crazy.
" Not crazy, just tired." Whispered the Voice. " But you are a fallen angel. They do not sleep. They only listen and watch for other lost souls."
"Then what will I do?" I thought. " Write your story. Publish your music. Tell the world what you experienced." urged the Voice.
I picked up the bottle and threw it as far as u could. I had no use for it anymore. Walking to my organ, I stopped and picked up the yellowing papers and a pen. I sat down and looked across to the lake. Memories of Christine flooded back. I closed my eyes and felt another tear drop.
" The hurt will go away. I promise." said the Voice gently.
"I miss her." I whispered.
" That is why you must write, to record what happened and forget mentally." Said the Voice. This time with more energy.
So I put the pen the paper and began to write. It was a story of light and darkness. Anger and obsession. Different and magical worlds. But above all things it was a story about love that never was.
A/N Okay please review all those you dared to read this bad phic. Flames are welcome, but please be considerate. I do hope you liked and for those you have seen Moulin Rouge, I had to add that!