Chapter One:
Erik flew madly at his organ and attacked each key in its turn playing the most hateful melody ever composed within his mind. "She will be mine!" He screamed at the world, though no one could hear him. He began to appear more as an animal than a human and he crawled around on all fours screaming hateful nothings into the air.
"Mine…mine…oh Christine…mine"
Earlier that night, Erik had been watching Christine through the wall in her dressing room and was about to leave when he heard a light tapping on her door. He watched her get up anxiously and answer whoever was calling for her. Her face had seemed to brighten when the Vicomte de Chagny caught her in a zealous embrace. Raoul had tried to speak but Christine shushed him,
"No Raoul, not here." She had said, "He could see us here. We must go higher, away from the trapdoors!"
Erik had been so hurt by Christine's wanting to get away from him. The Vicomte did not protest and Erik followed the pair as they made their way to the rooftop of the Garnier Opera House. He listened all the while as they made plans to run away together the next night after Christine was to star, once more, in 'Faust'. He, sitting on the top of Apollo's lyre, watched furiously as the two were locked into a passionate kiss and once they parted he went down, fuming, into his lair to plan his revenge.
"Christine, no…no!"
Only days earlier Christine had stayed with Erik for a fortnight and she had promised to come back, she had promised but now he knew she had lied. He had been so blissful and now he felt as if Christine had torn out his heart and spat on it. He trod around on all fours until exhaustion took him over and he collapsed sobbing over and over again,
"Christine…Christine…I need you…Oh god Christine…"
He'd been lying there for almost the entire night, half asleep, when he heard the sound of a boat crossing his cursed lake. Instinctively he grabbed his Pun-jab lasso and prepared himself for a chase. However, all his preparations were in vain when he saw the face of his friend Nadir. He watched furiously as Nadir rowed his boat up to the shore, got out, and proceeded to walk towards Erik.
"Daroga," Erik fumed, "I've half a mind to Pun-jab you now. You know better than to come here uninvited."
The look of pure casualty on Daroga's face only upset Erik more.
"Damn you! Get the hell out of here."
Unfazed Nadir continued walking towards Erik and he sat down next to him.
"Erik, you mustn't continue to see Christine Daae. It will only end badly. "
Before Nadir knew what was happening, Erik had thrown his lasso and it was now tightly, though not tight enough to asphyxiate him, around Nadir's thin neck. Erik looked straight into his eyes and his face twisted with pain, anguish, and anger.
"I said leave me Daroga. Do not try my patience for it wears thin with you."
Nadir gulped loudly and nodded his head. Slowly Erik retrieved his lasso and motioned towards the lake. Nadir got the signal and he stepped back into his boat and left Erik's lair. Only the demonic thoughts running through Erik's head quenched the dead silence of his cold, dismal abode. He resumed his position on the shore of his lake but, soon tiring of this, made his way to his organ. Ah, his organ. It was the only thing that could maintain his sanity all this time underground. He sat down on the bench, intending to compose but is efforts were futile for his tortured mind could comprehend nothing but the incredible pain that Christine had inflicted upon him. She was his muse, his very purpose for breathing and now she had abandoned him. He felt a single cold tear run down his aging face and he looked up to the ceiling, and whatever God was watching him.
"Curse you! Curse you for giving me this abhorrent face! Why do you taunt me like this? Why do you dangle the only thing I want right in front of me only to snatch it away again? Why, God, Why?"
He'd been depressed before. He'd been angry before, but never such as this. Never before had he contemplated his own demise. He'd looked at his lasso so many times before but never had he thought about putting it around his own neck and ending his miserable life. Now, the only thoughts that consumed him were those of misery, hate, and revenge. He would retrieve his dignity; he was the Opera Ghost for pity's sake. No one treated him like this and lived to see the outcome. For all the moments he'd thought of Christine lovingly, now he could not fathom forgiving her. She had betrayed him and she would pay.
A/N This is my first story on Please review and constructive criticism is always appreciated!
