THANK YOU REVIEWERS! Moonjava, LadyJaye, Nameless Waif, Arabella Minerva, paulinecampbelljones, and alicia, you guys always make my day! Sorry if this chapter isn't all that great. I kinda threw it together, but I hope it's okay. Just to warn you, I do have a general sense of where this thing will be going, but a little bit of the stuff in the middle is still being decided, but I think I know what I'm doing so don't worry, but do feel free to leave me ideas incase I getwriter's block.

I keep forgetting these: DISCLAIMER:don't own Phantom.

2. Track Down this Murderer

Something was kicking me in the back. "Come on Camille, just a few more minutes," I moaned, expecting to find her bugging me. As someone stirred me from a very uncomfortable sleep, I realized that I was not in my usual bed, or in any bed for that matter. It was the same hard, cold stone floor from last night. I stirred and instantly my entire body ached. I almost wished that I was lying in a man's bed.

"Oh, you're alive," a sardonic, cold voice said. I had heard that voice before, rumbling like thunder on the memorable night of Carlotta's "co-ack". Was it really him? I frantically rolled over, finding a tall, thin man in black dress clothes and a white mask covering half of his face. That mask! It was an exact replica of the one I had found, that I still had in my possession. The opera ghost! I scrambled to my feet, standing before the man I loathed so well. I felt sheer, burning hatred coursing through my body. I was ready to kill.

"You!" I growled. Never before had I felt such a lust for spilling blood. Perhaps this was what the man before me had felt before he killed Buquet and Piangi. Such a thought shook me for a moment. Was I really going to lower myself to his level?

"Well, well, I never would have imagined that innocent Little Meg would lower herself this far. Your mother certainly wouldn't have approved," he mocked.

A new wave of hatred surged through me. I didn't care about killing anymore. He had no right to mock me for the position he put me in. "How DARE you say that! DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER, YOU BASTARD!" I lunged for him, slapping his unmasked cheek, feeling victorious as I heard the sound of the impact echo through the labyrinth. I feebly punched his chest and stomach before my hands sough for his neck. I wanted to squeeze the life out of him and feel him squirm beneath my grasp. But before I even made contact with his throat he grabbed my wrists and instantly a noose went around my neck. I pulled at it, trying to keep it from cutting off my air supply. I kept completely still while my heart threatened to beat itself out of my ribcage. My life was in his hands and I knew that there was nothing I could do about it.

"I could easily return you to the whorehouse you came from you, little harlot. Is that what you want?" he hissed. Oh God, no! I couldn't go back, I could never go back! My entire body froze with fear and my blood went cold. I would have to submit my will to him. How I hated the man who had such control over me. He must have sensed my fear for the noose was removed. I turned to face him, the devil incarnate.

"Go burn in hell," I spat.

"Don't remind me," he replied casually. God I HATED him. I couldn't even give a good insult to him; they just rolled off like water. Suddenly he grabbed my wrist and dragged me into a little boat waiting at the shore of the lake. His cold hands burned into my skin.

"What are you doing?"

"Well I can't let a little whore like you go off and tell you that the opera ghost has returned, can I?"

Great! Absolutely wonderful! Now I'm prisoner to my greatest enemy! Could my life possibly get any worse? I sat obediently in the boat while I was seething in anger. I would defy this man somehow; I would get away. And I knew that the first thing I would do would be to rid him of this earth.

The jolt from the boat hitting the shore brought me out of my faults. As much as I hated this man, I had to admit, the place he lived in had a certain dark charm to it. He pushed me onto the shore and I looked back at him, scowling at his rudeness. I'm sure that this cold-blooded murderer was quite a gentleman when Christine was around. But of course, I was just a common prostitute. Why should I matter?

"Your room is the alcove on the right. Make yourself at home." Home! He honestly thought that I would call this place home? "Oh, and I wouldn't even think of leaving, unless, that is, you would prefer the magical lasso? Remember, the angel sees, the angel knows." Oh I HATED him. I wanted to wring his scrawny neck so badly. This man was sickening. Not only had he killed my mother, then made me a whore, and then made me his prisoner. The list of ways that he could make my life miserable never ceased to grow. What could I expect next; him to make me… oh God, he didn't expect me to be his mistress, did he?

"And little Giry, I almost forgot. You know, with all of those salaries from the managers, I am a wealthy man. I'm sure that you wouldn't mind making some good money by providing your services would you."

I wheeled around and looked at him, absolutely appalled by his offer. I would much rather take the first fat drunkard that walked in than him! Or would I? That last customer had scared me enough as it was. At least the Phantom was a bit more easy on the eyes. WAIT A MINUTE, WHAT WAS I THINKING! I would never lie with that damned murderer even if he paid me more money than the Vicomte de Chagney owned!

"I may be a whore and your prisoner, but I will NEVER be your whore!" I spat. I couldn't take anymore of this man. He was making me sick. I stormed off to my room, finding that only a semi-transparent curtain was all that kept me away from him. Well, at least the room looked nice. I sat down on the bed surrendering my mind to the jumble of thoughts that had been plaguing my thoughts. Why did everything have to come crashing down on me like this? I let my head fall into my hands and silently wept, letting my pain trickle down with every tear. Perhaps I should try to escape. Maybe death would be better than this nightmarish existance called life.

Wait a minute, perhaps not all was lost. I would not be able to kill him now, but I would free myself from his tyranny one way or another. I'll just have to bide my time. I will track down this murderer, even if it means spilling his cold blood on my hands.

Sorry if Erik seems a bit OOC, I was trying to make him dark. Don't forget to review!