Hi guys. Sorry I haven't updated in so long. I have been on vacation and I found myself reluctant to do anything that requires movement.
I have read all of your reviews and have tried to take all suggestions into consideration. I have to say, I agree with all of you, the plots' a bit slow now, but it should pick up the pace soon. Hopefully!
Enjoy!
(Oh and I love you so much! I never dreamed I would get a hundred reviews or more!)
Chapter eleven
"Why are you being so kind to me, monsieur?" She asked honestly.
"Perhaps because I am a fugitive myself,"
Manon paused and gave him a wary look. Then the thought came to her, those three officers that had chased her…
He read her like a book and nodded.
"Are they…?"
"Dead. Yes,"
He was expecting a shocked air, a look of horror, or even a gasp of disbelief but no expression alike came. Instead a quiet and agreeable manner came over her, and she tilted her head.
"Oh," was all she uttered
The Phantom fell silent as well.
She doesn't need to know anymore, three murders is enough. He thought, shoving the remnants of years ago out of his mind.
He was pleading now, like a woman. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, and his face became a mask of terror. His nostrils flared a he gulped for air furiously in his dread. He was trembling, and shrieking for mercy with a voice of a child.
"Please, please…mercy!" he whimpered, eyes riveted on the shadow in the darkness.
"Would you have shown mercy?" whispered another voice, a younger, more womanly voice.
"Yes! But please, don't-"
A loud shot rang out like thunder, and with a thud, the man hit the floor, all fears gone. All feeling gone in fact, in an instant, unlike the slow dribbling blood from his temple.
Manon sat up gasping,
Gods, not again.
She wanted to scream and drown out the memory, and the shattering guilt that came with it. Manon clutched her head, and closed her eyes.
Please, let it go away she pleaded. The remorse and shame continued to shriek in her mind,
But the sound of her name, and a hand on her shoulder hushed the deafening sounds of her own dread.
"Manon," whispered the deep voice,
Manon opened her eyes, and her mind cleared. Suddenly she could feel the faint throbbing of her side. She looked up, and into the glowing mask, and brooding face of the Phantom.
"Bad dream?" He asked. She nodded again and lay down.
The Phantom sat down, at his usual spot, his face dark with concern.
He wore a simple loose dress shirt and a dark unbuttoned waist coat over it. Handsome but dulled boots rode over fine black trousers. Manon, distinctly tried not to notice the way his long firm legs shifted under the black fabric and how, as he sat and leaned on his knees, the way part in his shirt revealed a striking chest.
In the dim light, she could see the handsome muscles shift and her mouth went dry.
"Mademoiselle," he said,
Manon looked away in horror, hoping he did not notice her quickly beating heart and wandering eyes.
Under his stern expression, the Phantom could not help but mentally smirk. He had caught her wandering eye.
Perhaps I still have it, he sneered.
Manon only looked up when she heard the soft lapping of water in the cup the Phantom held out to her. She reached out to accept it and in the process, felt his fingers brush gently with hers. Though her face did not show it this time, she felt her heart quicken at his touch, and was confused by her own his affect on her.
She took a sip of the cold water, and felt it cool her throat and her sweaty chest. Familiar silence filled the space between them. Then without a word, he stood up to leave.
"Monsieur," He paused before entering the shadows and turned to look at her.
"Are you truly the Phantom of the Opera?"
"That is what they call me, yes." He replied. " but do you think me a ghost?"
She shook her head. He once again made to leave when her voice stop him.
"Would you have a name, good Phantom?"
A soft smile appeared at the words good phantom. But he did not answer immediately. Manon watched silently as he seemed to battle with himself for a moment. He turned his back to her, and for a moment she thought he wouldn't answer. But then he spoke,
"It is Erik," was his utterance as he so disappeared into the shadows.
O.K, I need your advice for upcoming chapters:
Which pet do you think would best suit Erik? A puppy or a kitten?
Thanks! Please review!