My house of solitude has been savagely wrecked. After Christine was gone I was determined to take all of my possessions out of sight. I had even wrecked the dummy form of Christine and now I look upon it with pity. Such a beautiful piece of artwork, to be crush down after it had been needed most brought me such pain I can not even describe to you. My anger and rage had meant nothing been for nothing.

The people who came down to my lair we unusually surprised by the fact that there was a lake below their bellowed Opera House that they had quickly decided no one could have possibly been down here and that the little Giry girl had been mistaken in think that her mother had brought the Viscount down to this dreadful place. And after the destruction had taken place I watched the little Giry girl threaten to take the plunge into the water. I would have killed her if she had, but she made no attempt to dive into the almost frozen waters that channeled its' way like a road to my home.

The dismembered head that I had created in Christine's image now looked nothing like her. To the contrary it looked more like me then it did my little Angel. But she was no longer mine. She is no longer the item of my obsession. She is now the child I watched grow up before my eyes in the minutes that she spent in my home.

Angel of music,

Guide and guardian,

Grant to me your glory…

I could hear the echo of her voice, but I did not turn to find its' source. I merely dropped the head and returned to my organ where music shot like fire bolts through my fingers. When I had stopped the silence that surrounded me was deafening. I don't even know what was going on, but again that woman's voice reigned in my head.

Erik I know your lost and confused… is it not possible that I am as lost and confused as you or at least have been… I have found you and asked for your comfort but you fail to hear my cries… what have I done to earn your silence… What exactly did I do to make you shut your ears off when it comes to me… why won't you take me…why won't you save me…

My pulse quickened as once again returned to silence what I was going to do now was beyond me. Morphine was my drug because it made me happy. Aloud me to forget, but even at the height of my "happiness" I could hear the woman's voice unusually urging me to do something, but what I could not tell you.

I fell asleep again, but this time I had no nightmares, or dreams. I did not see the woman and I did not hear her voice. I saw only blackness but I know I had fallen into slumber because my pocket watch told me that over 8 hours had passed.

I went back to playing my music for what the clock said was hours, but what I felt was only minutes. Minutes where time itself and it's mysteries held no secrecy, and I was amazed at the fact that it had been 12 hours since I had heard that damn woman's voice.

The voice that I now had twisted emotions about. Where did it come from and why was it bothering me? I loved to hear the soft yet harsh tones that displayed themselves in her vocal pattern, but they filled me with such grief and a sense that all was not well in my head. For if I was imaging this woman it only proved that my insanity had been wavered. When I was in love with Christine I was in control. For my voice was what powered her will to fallow me. With this woman though I had a nagging suspicion that even though she was begging me to do something for her she and that her life depended on me… she was in complete and total control of my life.

Allowing the morphine to drip into my veins I was suddenly filled with a numbness of hope and happiness. Moving over to the organ I begun to play again. Only when I reached the climax of my twisted and demented song did I hear the scream.

If I ever forget that scream I shall be amazed with my self. It was so terrifyingly loud that I felt as though my eardrums were breaking. It filled me with terror and fear of what had to be happening to the person who was making the noise. For hours it seemed my world was filled with the scream and then… silence.