Chapter 7

Erik stared down at the aged, discolored keys of his massive pipe organ. He had been sitting there for what seemed like hours, attempting to continue a composition he had been working on for weeks. He could not concentrate on the notes, and nothing seemed to sound even remotely close to what he was capable of creating. The night before played over and over in his mind. Eric dueled against his own psyche throughout the morning.

What were you thinking…have you learned nothing from all your misery? How could you have been so foolish?

But I could not just have abandoned her. She was in pain and confused, he contradicted himself. She won't remember any of it anyway. If she does, she'll think it was all a just a dream. She wasn't frightened of me; she let me hold her hand.

What about the next time, when she doesn't have a head injury? What do you think will happen then? She isn't going to come down to this pit of despair longing to spend her life in darkness with a monster.

Besides, you love Christine, Meg cannot replace her.

Christine, my love, he thought.

Erik could picture her angelic face so clearly, and he could hear her beautiful voice as if she were right there next to him. He instantly felt a twinge of guilt for allowing himself to think of anyone but her.

But Christine betrayed me, she allowed me to give her all that I had and then threw it back in my face. She left me to rot in this shadowy hell. She only cared about me when she thought that I was an angel her father had sent.

But you will never stop loving her. Meg is not your escape. There is no escape. Trying to find love and compassion again will only destroy what little is left of you. Stop these pathetic attempts to find happiness.

Is it wrong of me to want some contact with another person, to want a connection to the rest of the world!

No, but it is wrong for you think that she is any different from all the others, whose cruelty has imprisoned you in darkness. Do not create false hope, and do not repeat mistakes of the past.

Erik finally succumbed to the realization that Meg could never care for him or see him as anything but a monster, just as Christine had. He buried any hopes that had aroused in his mind about her being more than just a way to communicate with another human being.

He decided that he would still speak to Meg on the roof occasionally, and she would still comply with his requests of her. After all, he was still the Phantom of the Opera. But, that would be the extent of what their relationship would entail.

Meg was glad to finally be back at rehearsals and out of her dressing room. It had taken two full days for the swelling on the back of head to go down, not to mention for the headaches to subside. It felt good just to stretch her tight limbs, dancing would feel wonderful, she thought.

As rehearsals progressed, Meg wondered about Erik, or the Phantom. She remembered him being in her room and holding her hand till she fell asleep. She remember his deep voice, but not what he has said. She couldn't remember how he looked, but he had touched her face with such tenderness…hadn't he? She still didn't know if it was real or a dream.

It was hard for her to believe that he could be so violent, but she knew very well that he could be. She hadn't visited the roof in two days, nor had she heard anything from the Phantom.

Maybe he has grown tired of me, she thought. Meg knew logically that she should be relieved to no longer have to obey this dangerous man. But she could not help the feeling of disappointment that swept over her at the thought of never hearing from him again.

Meg was beginning to realize that the meetings on the roof that had terrified her in the beginning were now what she looked forward to all day. She had missed hearing that voice desperately for the past two days. For the first time since her mother had died, she felt cared for. She wanted to believe that he knew what was best for her.

She wanted nothing more than to please the Phantom, just as she had wanted to please her mother.

Erik, she reminded herself, he's a man, not a ghost. He is only a man.

Either way, Meg thought, she cherished their long talks on the roof. She adored his dry, snide comments about the other performers that always made her laugh. She was mesmerized by the tone of his deep, masculine voice. She liked that he asked her questions and seemed to care what the answers were. She appreciated that he was always concerned about how people treated her.

What was going on in her head? Had she really allowed herself to develop feelings for a masked man who lived in cellars and haunted the Opera like a ghost?

There was no use in denying it any longer. Meg knew it was madness and she knew it was ridiculous, but that didn't make the feelings any less real. She didn't care that he was a killer with only half a face. He had pushed his way inside her mind, and she had allowed him inside her heart.

Meg went up to the roof at midnight on her second day back at rehearsals. For the first time in weeks it was not because she had been told to, but because she wanted to. She waited in the cold, still night for at least an hour, but never heard the familiar voice.

He has grown tired of me, she thought.

She felt a sudden pain in her chest. The silence on the roof was suddenly unbearable. The thoughts that she had previously driven from her mind now washed over her.

He loves Christine, she reminded herself. He is obsessed with her. You are just his link to the theatre; he is only interested in the part you play in the success of the Opera. He could never care for anyone but her; she was his angel. Your feelings for him will never be returned.

Meg was shivering, so slowly began the long descent through the theatre back to her dressing room. As she walked and thought about the man who had made her care for him, her feelings of sadness were replaced with unfounded anger and irritation.

She decided that if the Phantom was through with her, than she was through with following all his demands. She would see whomever she pleased and go wherever she wanted from now on.

She was not going to allow this sorrow of rejection ruin her return to the Opera Populaire. She was finally where she wanted to be. She had made prima ballerina and she was going to enjoy it, with or without the Phantom.