What a great response to my first chapter! Yeah!

Just a note to clarify; my Erik in this story is a dark, hurting, suicidal Erik. He will slowly become something better, but that is where he coming from.

I don't own these characters, just the backdrop in which I choose to display them.

Thank you for your reviews…keep 'em comin'!

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

CHAPTER 2

Prison

He had been beaten profusely, reminiscent of the two years he'd spent in the gypsy camp. His head was splitting and he was seeing double; he probably had a concussion. He was having difficulty breathing from the ribs he knew were cracked.

They had thrown him in the dark, damp, cell and slammed the door shut; locking it with a key attached to a ring with hundreds of other keys. He was in shackles and his clothes were in rags. The place reeked of urine and feces and he had to fight the bile that kept rising in his throat.

He had hoped that his end would come with a little more dignity than this. He was going to die a criminal's death, alone and despised; ironic actually, since that is how he had lived his life. He smirked at the absurdity of it all.

He sat down on a makeshift chair and began writing on the piece of parchment they had granted him; they expected him to write his confession…'Sure, like that's going to happen.' he thought to himself.

He would not allow fear or dread to cause him to cower from the events that loomed in the future. He would hang, of this he was certain…but he didn't have to let them see him sweat nor was he a coward…he would face his fate with every ounce of dignity he had left.

It was obvious to him now…he was not meant to have such things as love and joy in his life. He had tried to obtain them, but they had slipped through his hands. He hadn't expected Christine to love him…that would have been asking the impossible; he had merely wanted her companionship and compassion…he would not have even pressed the physical side of a relationship, he had lived this long without the touch of a woman.

But it was not to be.

For as far back as he could remember the bitterness he felt toward the human race had been building to a boiling point. He had tried walking among them, working among them, and even falling in love with one of them…but they denied him the basic courtesies and rights that even animals were granted; the right to live and have a mate.

Now he found that the bitterness rested within him like an old familiar ache, caused by a wound that would never heal. Whom was he kidding? He longed…no yearned, to be a part of their world and captivate them with his music and architecture; but his time would never come.

Every moment he spent dwelling on the pain in his heart, he grew angrier and more bitter; at himself, more than anything. How could he have been such an ignorant fool and let his heart remain exposed for the breaking? He had felt her recoil from him; he had seen the fear in her eyes and seen her shiver with disgust.

What a fool he was.

He laid his tall frame down on the meager bed and tried to find a comfortable position. Just as he had settled, Brigitte Giry showed herself, having been in the shadows watching him for a few minutes. It was the first time she had come to him in years.

"Have you come to make sure I don't escape the hangman's noose, Brigitte?" The Phantom spat in ragged breaths; it was becoming increasingly hard to breathe and the blood and sweat running down his forehead was burning his eyes.

Brigitte cringed at the harshness she heard in his voice. She supposed that she had caused that animosity in him. She had put up a wall of indifference against him when certain events began occurring in the opera house.

She knew he had been raised in a gypsy camp and had no morals or knowledge of right and wrong…he had been treated like something worse than an animal. She never wanted to know anything else about him…that was all she needed; when she found him he had been filthy, and acted like a barbarian. He wouldn't eat; in fact, food seemed a stranger to him.

He had only been in the opera house about two years, when he ran away – Brigitte never knew why he ran…she thought back on it…and thought perhaps he resented being locked away beneath an opera house and told to never show himself or talk to anyone.

He did not come back for six years; when he was nineteen…he left as a boy, and returned as a man…a very bitter, angry, dangerous man. But then, Christine had entered his life and…

Brigitte did not wish to dwell on the pain he must be feeling at the rejection and humiliation Christine had put him through…she wanted to forget that he was human… tonight he was a monster…even if his eyes said otherwise.

She had thought she knew him; but then, about three years ago, the rapes began happening. According to the victims, the culprit always wore a mask and dressed in finery; the man before her fit that description perfectly.

Among the Phantom's many abilities, was his ability to hypnotize. Normally, he used his voice or eyes, but the molested girls were certain that their attacker had never spoken to them, and they could not see him; the act was always performed in the darkest recesses of the opera house. He possessed skills, which in the hands of a normal man would be wonderful gifts to the world, but in the hands of a lunatic…

"You're not going anywhere, Erik…they will see to that." Brigitte promised, her words dripping with righteous indignation and judgment.

Hearing his given name come from her lips, made tears come to eyes. He had almost forgotten he had a real name and the loathing he heard coming from her just strengthened his resolve.

"You're getting what you deserve…I thought you were smarter than this." Brigitte was always straightforward and to the point, she needed him to know that she was disappointed in him and the path he had chosen. "I never figured you for a rapist, let alone a murderer." She spat.

Brigitte thought back twenty years ago, to when she had rescued a starving, filthy child from the gypsies. He had wrapped his rope around the neck of his master and tried to strangle the life from him, but had only succeeded in knocking him out; he had not been physically strong enough at the age of nine to kill him; but mentally was a different thing altogether.

Erik hung his head, no words came forth; his doom was already sealed. Nothing he said or did would change how people perceived him or what they thought about him; he was guilty simply because they feared the way he looked…maybe his death would bring peace.

"Why are you here Brigitte?" he asked scathingly, his voice strained, pierced, and weak; but still beautiful.

Brigitte closed her eyes at the heavenly sound of his voice, even with the fury in his tone; he still held the power to control. She saw the way he held his body and knew that he was in excruciating pain; his voice was drowning in it and his face, though mostly hidden in the shadows, portrayed it.

They had beaten him severely, and compassion swelled within her. He had suffered ailments and beatings on many occasions…and not once had he asked her to console him or bind his wounds.

She could not let her natural female compassion weaken her resolve; she resisted and put on her most stoic face. She could not bring it upon herself to forgive him for the way he had ruined his life and terrified Christine.

"You know what the ironic thing is, Erik?" She questioned him, "I was going to tell you tonight that I no longer wanted to see you…you were to find someplace else to haunt and terrorize...you saved me the trouble." She kept all emotion out of her voice, she could not let him know how much it hurt, "I will not miss you…I had thought perhaps I would…but I won't." Her words cut him, clear to the bone, "Just know that I did care…once."

Erik drew his eyes up to her and held her gaze for a moment as her last words resounded in his mind. He watched her turn from him and leave…she had washed her hands of him…not that he blamed her. She had done all she could for him and he had given her nothing but heartaches and headaches, just as he had done his mother and everyone else he had encountered in his life.

Now, he truly was alone.

And death was laughing at him.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Later that night, in the sleeping chambers of the girls

"We have to go the magistrate…we all know what needs to be done." Penny stated. The other girls nodded in reply. "We have told our story to the patrons and nothing has been done to right the wrong." Her voice was full of anger and betrayal.

Lorraine spoke up, tears rolling down her face, "I am tired of reliving those events every time I have to retell the story…" She wiped her face with her sleeve, "…but if I must tell it again to make sure the truth comes out…than I will."

"Why couldn't those we told to begin with, have done what they were supposed to do in the first place…protect us and make sure he didn't do it again?" Alice asked; she was the youngest of them and the most vulnerable.

Janice sat quietly listening to the others, but she finally spoke, "We need Isabel and Frank also, they have to tell their stories," She reminded them, "or our statements can be dismissed."

Penny, the most outspoken of the group, took charge, "Janice, you and Delia go find Isabel and Frank and tell them what we are planning; let them know to meet us across the street, at the café Romano, tomorrow morning at 7:30 so we can make this right." She looked around the room, "We need to get a good night sleep, knowing that we are doing the right thing in the morning…and we can't let the current patron know what we are up to."

Lorraine smirked, "That won't be hard…he doesn't even acknowledge our existence unless we do something wrong."

Janice and Delia acknowledged that they knew what they were to do, and left the room in search of the others.

Alice sat in her bed and wept, this whole ordeal was something she wanted to put behind her. Every night, when she closed her eyes, she saw the events of that night eight months ago, replay in her head with vivid detail; she knew she would never fully recover from the trauma her body and mind had been through that night. The knowledge that the man who had done it to her would never do it again, helped her to rest easier.

Penny came over and sat down beside her, rocking her in her arms. They were all sisters now; sisters who had suffered at the whim of a serial rapist – a man they had all known and were expected to trust…but his eyes never allowed them to. He was evil…the eyes are the windows to the soul…and his were black and bottomless.

"I don't know that we will ever forget what happened to us Alice, but I can say that we will be here for each other in every way that we can…we have to use those events to become better people and not allow them to hinder us from becoming whom we were meant to be." Penny stated, while rubbing Alice's back.

The girl had closed her eyes and drifted to sleep under the soft, easy touch of Penny's hands, and the lulling sound of her voice. The opera house had become home to all of them; and now, after recent events, they finally felt safe in their home.

TBC