Fast update, blah blah blah, but I've been having insomnia the past few days so I had nothing else to get in my way.

Just don't kill me for this chapter!


The priest listened aptly as Erik told the beginning years of his life. From the sad start and the way his mother raised him, keeping him locked in his room until he learned how to pick the small knob, up to when he ran away to be found by a group of gypsies, lured in with the hopes that among such odd folk even he himself could find kindness in the heart of one person.

"I was horribly mistaken on that notion," Erik sighed. He'd been telling this man every detail that he could muster for three- was it four hours?

"Monsieur, I dearly would love to know more," he stopped with a glare from Erik, "I mean, well, it does fascinate the mind to hear such a tale from someone. But it grows late for me, and there are other things I must see to before the sun goes down,"

Erik turned to look at his window, already the sun casting a strange angled light into his cell. He stood up as the priest did, stretching his legs from being on the floor for so long.

"Might I ask when to expect your return?" Erik asked, handing him the skin flask he had finished draining half an hour ago.

Herne looked pensive a moment, staring at the floor, then finally looked up, "Normally the priests only go out Sundays, with the occasional trip during the week. Of course, since your case is a bit different, I would like to perhaps come in two days? If that is fitting to you, naturally,"

"I see nothing wrong in that,"

"Wonderful! I shall be back here on Tuesday then," Herne paused a moment, looking at the Bible in his hands, he then held the book out in front of the bars. Erik stared blankly at him as Herne stumbled a little on his words, "we are supposed to, that is, normally we would-"

"Give a Bible to the poor souls who are in need salvation, I suppose?" Erik finished the sentence. He did nothing for a moment, but seeing that the priest had no intent of moving until the book was out of his hands, groaned and snatched it away, "Fine, I'll take your 'book of hope' and the 'ways to the right path', but do not think I intend to read such pointless writings,"

"We shall see," Herne smiled, "I really must be off now monsieur-"

"Erik, damn it, you asked my name earlier, you can call me by it,"

"Err.. Yes, if that is what you would prefer, but I must ask you reciprocate and do the same for me,"

"If it pleases, the Opera Ghost was one of obedience… But that is for another day, leave now, I am beginning to find your presence a little too tiring,"

Erik watched as it seemed Herne wanted to respond to the bite in his words, but resisted, "Yes, good day to you, mons- my apologies, Erik."

"Good day to you, Herne." Erik replied with a curt nod of his head, and watched as far as he could as the priests robe swirled as he walked along. The familiar opening and shut of the door left him alone once again in his very dark and gloomy cell.

A fool of a Frenchmen, yet an intelligent one Erik mused as he went to sit over on his bench. At least by his Godly teachings he's bringing you food his mind retorted.

His head tilted as he once again sat down, and he found himself faced with the Bible in his hands. Such a useless thing, stories of faith and a God who in truth did not care for all His creations. But still…

Erik flipped open the book in simple curiosity, despite his words to Herne. After all, he did say he wouldn't read it, there was no foul if he merely skimmed the inane scriptures. He flicked through a few pages, skipping sections at a time. It did not take long for him to understand how the book was broken down. He had once looked in a Bible when he was very young in his home, as he told Herne, and had soon enough found himself being whipped for touching something that was apparently a family treasure.

But this time, this time there were no repercussions for how he looked through the book. He glanced over a few stories, some so implausible he could have laughed at them were he not in prison. A donkey talking, a man being swallowed by a large fish, such ridiculous things these people of God had written.

He would pause every now and then between passages, but nothing was really of much interest to him, too many teachings were all talking about light and eradicating darkness from the world.

Not all dark things have intentions of evil Erik thought bitterly. No, his intentions had been pure to the world. Had he not wanted to create a kingdom of music? To teach the world what he knew of the splendor that could be drawn forth from both the voice and instruments? Did he not design over a dozen buildings, all that would have even made the Shah's palace look like a toy house?

He threw the book over by his feet, watching with disinterest as it tumbled to the floor in shadow. It was just as well that it get tossed out of sight, the guards would no doubt pester him about having something Holy in the holding of a demon.

The sun was now falling fast, and soon comforting darkness would once again shroud his misery. Erik's ears pricked when he heard voices coming into the corridor- two, maybe three men.

"He's just down this way, hasn't eaten in a week, should serve some entertainment…"

Erik's heart started to beat a little faster, but he stayed in spot and shut his eyes, perhaps if they thought he was sleeping they'd find him less appealing. He heard the jingling of keys as another voice commented on him, "Ugly beast, isn't he? A temper to match too,"

The lock clicked and the door creaked, "Perhaps, but as I told you, he can't do much. Too weak to even try,"

Erik was scared. No, he was beyond scared, he was terrified. If his breathing didn't give away his real position, the small twitches in his face would. He heard the footsteps coming closer and closer to him.

Stay calm His mind told him repeatedly. But when he felt the first hard blow to his cheek, his instincts kicked in and he jumped to fight back.

He did not expect two other men to grab his arms and lock him in place of course, knocking him down to his knees so he was looking up at his assailant. Nor did he expect the kick following to his stomach. He coughed and gasped for air as his face fell, but a hand grasped his hair and jerked it back up to the sneering face of the guard, "We thought we'd give you a proper greeting to this place, monster,"

Erik's face contorted and he began to struggle and shout, "You damn bast-"

Another punch to his jaw stopped him as his onlooker smiled, "Be careful of your tongue, monster, we don't like rude names like that here," and he continued by kicking Erik again. This time the force was enough to churn Erik's stomach, and he gagged as he felt bile rise in his throat. It burned and he tried to swallow the acidic taste back down but was dealt with another hit. He couldn't stop it this time as his head dropped and he felt his stomach empty itself of what contents it had not yet digested.

Yet the men still held onto him and laughed as he vomited. Loathe as Erik was to admit, he was too weak to truly fight back, and there was only one other solution he could think of to end this sooner. As he did when he was kept in a cage as a boy, he closed his eyes and stopped struggling. The sooner he finished trying to defend himself, the faster they would be done.

He slumped over as they dropped him to the floor, his face inches from where he had just released what was inside him. The kicks of all three men now assaulted him. Into his stomach, his back, Erik curled up in a ball, hands over his head for little protection.

"What's the matter, monster? We heard you were something to fear! So why don't you fight!" he heard one shout, but still he did not move from his spot on the floor. Erik felt hot tears coming from his eyes and he scrunched them as tight as possible so they could not be seen. Tears and cries would only provoke them more.

The torturous beating went on another minute before they suddenly stopped. Erik trembled, but did nothing more. He felt one spit on him before the door creaked open and then shut and locked. He dared not move until he knew they were no longer in the corridor.

Shakily, he crawled across the floor, tripping once or twice on his injured arms, over to the where the Bible had fallen. He pulled it close, needing something to hold, as he cried. He fitted himself under the bench, trying to hide himself in whatever way possible, the little Bible grasped onto for life itself. Only one thought could leave his mind and come from his mouth as he quivered.

"Christine," he sobbed, "Christine…"