Chapter 3: Into the Light
The darkness had always been his ally. The cool pathways underneath the opera never frightened or hindered him. Now that the Phantom was dead, it was Erik who lived. His cat-like eyes adjusted beautifully to the dark; he knew where the corridor led, that frightened him more than the dark. The light loomed ahead and his heart raced in anticipation. After immuring himself within these walls, he had died and been reborn. A new life waited for him at the end. No more Phantom; he kept thinking it as he raced faster.
He opened a grate from underneath the opera house and stepped into the arms of the night. The moon glistened on the black ground but it could not cause him fear. He enveloped his cloak around him and savored the sweet smells of the outside. Perhaps not pleasant smells but the aroma of fresh air filled his lungs and the wind blew across his naked face, reminding him of his vulnerability. He had to find a place to stay until he could determine his next move. He decided to go to one of the more questionable parts of Paris. No one there would question his identity.
The smell of the air seemed to decay as he neared one of the dark alleys of downtown Paris. The woman became most scantily dressed and began making advance towards him in an effort to secure their meals for the following morning. Although in his vulnerable disposition, he avoided their offers of meaningless sex. His appeared hauteur seemed to aggravate them further since he refused to pull down his hood. His heart was frozen in a cold lock.
His aberrant walk turned a couple heads but he looked threatening enough that most stayed at a comfortable distance from him. Erik finally saw what he was looking for: Le Chat Bleu. (Not to be confused with Le Chat Noir.) This hotel was appropriate enough for his needs at the moment.
Erik walked through the doors and up to the concierge. She was a thin woman with severe lips and wispy, uncombed gray hair. Her face might have encouraged him to let down his hood had their not been other people around.
"I require a room Madame, if you'd be so kind." She looked at him strangely, obviously not accustomed to being addressed in such a formal manner. She took the francs he dumped on the counter and handed him a key.
"Second floor, dearie, third door on your left." Erik thanked her and walked up the two flights to his room. Unlocking the door, he peered into it suspiciously. Just what he needed; the room made him nauseous. After living so comfortably in his home at the Opera, he grimaced at his new home.
He quickly closed and locked the door behind him, removed his cloak, and sat on the bed. He sighed and laid down in exhaustion. He lifted one hand and pressed it delicately against his deformed cheek. The rough scars and malformations of his cheek were an odd sensation against his hand. He screwed up his face in pain, not believing that a beautiful girl like Christine had touched his face when she kissed him. Her hands had run along the side of his face and he almost flinched at the memory. That kiss had been the pinnacle of his life, the thought of her hands caressing him made him shudder. He had to block her out; he had to forget that life.