You've been so good to me, 50 reviews in a rather short period of time…here is the beginning of Erik's story.

Mini Nicka – to answer your question. At the beginning of Chapter 1, I explained that for the purpose of my story, Madam Giry never married; and therefore, Meg does not exist. I hope this helps.

OperaLover – I wanted to portray Erik's mother as a broken and contrite woman. She has no idea that Christine and Brigitte betrayed Erik almost as terribly as she did.

Gerardphantomhot – Oh no, my young one…there are at least 20 more chapters already written…so breathe easy.

Enjoy…

THE DAWN THROUGH THE NIGHT

Part II – Making Life out of Nothing at All – Chapters 8 - 10

June 2, 1872- February 27, 1879

Erik

CHAPTER 8

The horse and rider moved, like the wind, through the countryside of France for what seemed like weeks. They stopped only to sleep, usually against a tree, hidden deep in the forest.

The haunted man atop the horse fought the elements to escape himself and the horror he had made of his life; but everywhere he turned, he was faced with the cold hard facts…he belonged nowhere and had no one; maybe death would finally have him.

The rain pounded his back and drenched the cape that shrouded him. The wounds on his back were festered and agonizing, and he knew the infection was spreading. It had been a few days since he left Paris, but the weariness in his bones, the pain in his chest, and the cold flow of his blood, pronounced the years he had spent buried beneath its hoard of humanity.

He would not give any of them the satisfaction of finding his body or spreading the news of his death. It would happen this night, when he desired it, and no one he loved would know - not that they would care anyway. He did not wish for his fate to reach the ears of those who waited with baited breath for news of his death.

They stopped and sought refuge in a barn, off the road about one-half of a mile. The old house looked to be abandoned; the lawn was grown over with weeds, and there wasn't any sign of life. Erik tied Nemesis and relaxed on the floor of the barn. It was well past midnight, probably closer to three or four o'clock in the morning.

He had been riding for hours, and those hours had turned into days. He was ragged and cold, hungry and dirty…his, already, too slender frame had lost a great deal of weight over the passing days. He hadn't eaten anything since fleeing Paris, and he drank water from various streams he had encountered.

Erik sat, surveying his surroundings. He didn't figure on anyone finding him for days, but he didn't want to leave a blood pool for someone to clean up…his mother had taught him to always be clean. He pulled the vile and syringe from his leather satchel, and studied them for a few minutes; it would be painful…at first; but then, pain had always been with him. The pain would pass and then he would simply sleep.

Death…the one thing that seemed to call his name; what purpose was there in remaining on this earth…he had no family, no friends, no future. He had known, the night he left Paris, that he would die by his own hand…he had attempted it before, but this time…there would be no one to pull his sorry carcass back from the grip of death.

He knew that suicide was frowned upon by the church, but Erik had been told, over and over again, that creatures like him had no soul…animals had no place in heaven; so he was doing the world a favor; just one less soulless animal to deal with.

The needle felt as cold as ice at it slid into his vein. The liquid stung as it entered his system…just as it did the last time he attempted this. Morphine had once gripped his mind…but he rid himself of its affects years ago. This dose was the last of the stored supply he had…it was well over the dosage that should kill him.

The entire vile poured into his bloodstream. The euphoria hit immediately, causing his mind to hallucinate images and sounds. Eventually, the pain crept into his body…it would take awhile…but he had nothing but time…

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Desiree Lambert had come to France as the daughter of Baptist missionaries. She had come at the age of five and studied the culture and the language, hoping to follow in her parents footsteps in the years to come.

She had not planned on falling in love with a journalist and loosing her parents both in the same year; but life has a way of throwing curves at us.

Her parents were killed in a hostile raid at the prison camp they were ministering to. They died doing the Lord's work, but it still left Desiree alone and vulnerable at the age of eighteen.

Javier Monét waltzed into her life and swept her off her feet, not two months after her parents died. He was suave, handsome, and French…she was his from the first joining of their eyes.

He had enjoyed a couple of great years after they married. His journalism skills were unsurpassed. But then, six years after they married, he contacted a strange, unknown sickness that devastated his body and mind.

Every bit of money that he had put aside for their life together was depleted in a matter of months; between doctors and medicine…there was nothing left. Now, Desiree was destitute, widowed, and pregnant. Javier had died two weeks before she found out she was carrying their first, long-awaited child; that had been five months ago.

This ragged house and the overgrown property on which it sat, had belonged to an old man who had passed away a few months ago. He had no family and no friends, so Desiree moved in.

The house was dark and dank, but it was free. Desiree had no oil for the lamps and no wood to cook with. She had been surviving on bread and water, and the occasional slab of meat that the doctor would bring when he came.

She needed to go down to the stream and carry up a bucket of water for washing. She had left the bucket in the barn the last time, so she put on her shoes and walked out to the barn.

She knew she shouldn't be carrying a bucket of water in her condition, but how else was she going to get the water…the doctor wasn't due to come for two days, and she needed it now.

The barn was as run down as the rest of the property, which really didn't matter, considering she had no livestock or horses to house in it. But this morning, Desiree noticed a horse moving about inside.

"Whose are you?" She gasped, approaching the beautiful steed.

She advanced on the horse gingerly, not sure if it was tame or wild; but as she came closer, the beautiful black stallion lowered his head and neighed.

"What a beautiful creature you are." Desiree cooed. "What is it boy…what are you trying to show me?"

The horse was stamping about, not dangerously, but determinedly. He seemed to be trying to get her to do something.

"You sure are wound up about something, aren't you…" she began.

About that time, she turned in the direction of the horses eyes, and saw a man lying in the dirty straw. She startled for a moment, not sure if he was asleep or dead.

She crept up to him and noticed that his breathing was shallow and he was not moving. She went to his side, thinking that if the horse was concerned for his master, that he must not be too bad. He was bloody, dirty, and his face was contorted in a painful grimace.

"Mister?" She asked, "Hey mister…wake up." She said forcefully, while poking him in the arm. He was terribly slender and looked sickly.

He did not budge. Then she averted her eyes from his handsome but ragged appearance, and spied the vile and syringe lying by his side. This man had injected an entire vile of some clear liquid.

Desiree picked up the vile and sniffed…she had no idea what it was, but the circumstances did not look good. She smoothed the stranger's hair back from his face, noticing the mask, but not being too concerned with it.

He was burning up; she needed to get the doctor here, quickly. She mounted the horse, being an excellent rider, with no difficulty, even though she was seven months pregnant.

She hoped and prayed that the horse would not throw her, it would mean sure death for her unborn child. But the stallion seemed to sense that she was doing this for his master, and allowed her ride him, fast and furious, toward the doctor's house.

Dr. Thibaud Bateaux took only his bag and a few necessary things to determine what the stranger had taken. Desiree had not been able to identify the substance, but he had an idea of what it was.

"I hope we get there in time." Was all he said as he followed her to her house.

Total travel time was an hour, so by the time they got back to the slumbering man; he had been in this state for four hours.

The doctor knelt by the man's side and picked up the vile; he put it to his nose and sniffed the contents. He dropped his eyes and shook his head.

"He's taken an overdose of Morphine…probably wanting to commit suicide." Dr. Bateaux mumbled, not understanding the need of anyone to take such drastic measures.

"Why would anyone do such a thing?" Desiree asked herself.

"Do you mind if he stays in your house, I need to get him out of these unsanitary conditions?" The doctor asked, ignoring her question.

Desiree nodded, knowing that she could not leave him out in the filthy hay and dirt, he was a stranger in need…and many times, the Bible tells us, we entertain angels unaware. Perhaps, this stranger was an angel coming to test her faith.

The horse came over and lovingly nudged the sleeping man, neighing at him softly and nibbling on his clothes, but the man did not stir. The doctor rigged a device with allowed the horse to pull the stranger to the house, and the doctor pulled him the rest of the way in.

"I have him stabilized, he took a great deal of the drug." He said, "But thankfully, it has been discovered that it takes a great deal more than what he injected to cause death, especially for a man of his size."

The doctor could not lift the man into the bed, so he left him on the floor with a blanket and a pillow.

"I will return in about an hour with help. We will get him onto the bed so that he can recuperate." Dr. Bateaux reported. "He will be very sick, he has whip marks on his back that are infected; and I doubt he will be pleased when he awakes." He said lightly, trying to calm Desiree's nerves. "I will be here to help you." He promised.

The good doctor rode off to find the neighbor to come and help move Erik to the bedroom.

While he was gone, Desiree retrieved some water and began washing the man's face, arms and chest. His clothes were expensively designed and tailored, but filthy. He must have been traveling for some time.

His features, when cleaned up, were very handsome on the left side. She had thought her Javier was handsome, but this man was even more so. His hair was black, long and wavy, and his lips were full and uniquely shaped; they were stunning. He had a sculptured cheekbone and long lashes; along with a dimpled chin…he left her breathless.

She removed the mask and was startled to see the marred flesh that it covered. He must have been in a terrible accident, or maybe scarred from birth. She had seen many such deformities over the years. Her parents had taken her to some of the most remote places on earth, and she had seen some horrible things.

Surely, this could not be the cause of this man's suicide attempt. It covered, not even, a third of his face; and the rest of his features were flawless. She pulled the tattered and torn shirt from him and blushed at finding his chest powerfully built and defined…and further visual assessment found his arms and legs as equally breathtaking.

She grimaced at the wounds on his body. He had been beaten profusely and recently. He had a large, nasty bruise on his rib cage…the doctor had mentioned that it looked like he had a broken rib or two. His breathing was ragged and shallow, giving Desiree reason to be concerned. She remained by his side and voiced a prayer for his quick and easy recovery; of mind, body, and soul.

What would possess a man of obvious wealth to attempt suicide? He was terribly malnourished, and he had an aura of darkness surrounding him; but he was attractive and young…surely he had much to live for.

She placed the mask on the dresser, giving it a menacing glare. "There will be no hiding behind masks in my house Mr. Adonis…no hiding at all." She would make sure he knew the rules when he awakened.

And awaken he did, three days later.

TBC