:Author's Note: Yup, you can actually stop pulling knifes out of your socks to kill me for not having updated for such a long time. I am speaking honestly when I say that I had a huge writer's block for this piece of fiction, and the fact that I started writing other fiction, e.g. "Face Transplant" or "Je t'aime", doesn't really help it. But I do owe you something, and quite an idea has just washed my mind into a clear-white state instead of the usual gray shade party, so take a breath and read. I loved all of your reviews, and I hope you will enjoy my future writing as well. And if you don't, well, what are there review-buttons for?

:Disclaimer: I most certainly do not own "The Phantom of the Opera", nor would I want to, otherwise I'd probably not leave a room full of mirrors in a lifetime.

:Claimer: I don't think you honestly want to steal something, but go ahead. It's your life you're ruining with it, not mine!

:Thanks to: Sukari, Armwarmer and for this chapter, special thanks to Anrion!

"Murder is born of love, and love attains the greatest intensity in murder" Octave Mirbeau

: The Empty Cage :

: Chapter Eight : The End :

"So, Monsieur, I believe we have quite a chat ahead of us." Jacques sat down on a wooden stool behind the iron stacks that seperated him from Erik and made very clear that Erik would not leave the place until death. "You may begin to talk." Silence. "If there is anything you'd like to say."

In the darkness, Jacques could barely make out Erik's face, but he saw that he was leaning against the wall. When he still hadn't moved, Jacques sighed loudly and shook his head. "No, really, I have some questions, so you better speak. I believe it will not get you out of here," he looked around and frowned, "but at least I could arrange it to be a little more comfortable, especially for such a rich man like you are."

Time passed by and Erik still didn't speak. Jacques knew what he was doing; it had been his job for many years. But this time, it was different. This time, it was a murderer who had killed two people and not even cared about leaving the scene. "Erik. Please."

A loud sigh – this time, it was Erik's – indicated that he was now ready to talk. Jacques felt his back muscles stiffen… he had waited for this moment for a long time. This murder had been a mystery to him ever since he had stepped a foot into that cursed house, and of course he would find out why Erik had done it someday – how many days had he spent down here, in this rotten place? Hours and hours of silence, and Erik had not moved an inch. But now… now…

"You wouldn't understand."

He had spoken. Jacques scratched his forehead. "Well, let us try. You never know."

"I loved the look on her face when I killed her… what was your name again?"

"Jacques."

"I loved it, Jacques… I loved it… she had me waiting for that moment for ages, and then all my dreams came true. Tortured! Oh, poor Mademoiselle… Antoinette! But I guess I was too intelligent to let you live."

"Monsieur, would you explain to me where you got to know Monsieur Giry?"

"She would always scream and I would always have to hit her. What a shame! She could have been so passionate about it…"

"So I believe you got invited. When did you arrive?"

"I loved her screams… I had truly missed them… Oh, how satisfied I was, seeing that face… scared to death… death… yes, that was what she deserved!"

"Would you please –"

"Ah, and that Giry guy had to go eventually. He was in my way. Even tried to protect her, that wimp. Barely left her side until I knocked him down …"

It finally dawned to Jacques that he wouldn't come very far this way, so he moved on. "Why did you kill him?"

"Ugh," Erik sighed again as if to say that the answer was even more than only self-evident, "he would have tried to get her back. The way he spoke about her… of course it was getting on his nerves that she would constantly call him Erik when he slept with her…," he spoke on while Jacques blushed in the darkness, "but eventually, he had to go. They all had to go. He touched my Antoinette! He had to go."

"You are aware of the fact that…"

"Shut up. It's my turn to talk, or I'll have you killed, too." Something about the situation told Jacques to really keep his words to himself, and so, Erik went on. "Actually, you should go, too…" The last memory Jacques had was that suddenly, Erik's hand had rushed to him between the iron stacks and grabbed his throat, squeezing it so hard he barely got out his last words. "Erik…"

"I loved her!"