A/N: This chapter is rated "T" for suggestive content. Don't worry, nothing happens...yet.
And there are bound to be a few grammatical errors along with some spelling. I just did a quick spell check over this chapter. I wanted to get it to you guys as soon as possible.
8
The Demon
"So..." Amy said, her face still buried in the Phantom's muscular chest, making her words sounds muffled. In those few minutes of embarrassment, the girl had woken up, and now she was getting restless. Of course, being held by the infamous Opera Ghost was definitely an experience, to say the least. She was just tired of laying around...literally.
The young ballerina could feel him smile against her head. "So what, my dear?" She knew that he knew she wanted to get up. He was just agitating her.
A slight shiver passed over Amy's body.
Agitating her or...refusing to let her go?
Something told her the latter was the truth.
Gently, the Phantom stroked her waist with his right hand and ran his other through her jet black hair.
Amy jerked away from his touch, Sorelli's story of the "Phantom's whore" racing through her mind.
But the Opera Ghost would not be denied. He growled slightly and pulled the girl up against his rigged frame. "I did not say you could move," his voice was like venom in her ear, lips grazing the tips of her earlobe.
Now the ballerina began to struggle more fiercely, like a helpless beast cornered by the hunter.
Her efforts was futile as the Phantom's vice-like grip held firm. She began to kick with her legs, but he captured them with his own, causing even more unwanted contact.
"Let...me...go...!" she yelled, continuing to fight even though she had long lost the battle.
"You need to learn some manners, dear." The Ghost captured both her wrists in one hand and used the other to stroke her waist lightly. Amy pulled away from his touch and shivered, but he would not stop.
"I am your master. The moment you accepted a job at the Opera Populaire, you became my slave. I own you, Amy, and I will do as I please with you!"
The ballerina's eyes went wide. She kicked a screamed furiously against the monster that held her. That was trying to...
A moan of longing escaped the Phantom's lips.
For a fleeting moment Amy wonder why, until she realized that in her struggle she was thrusting up against...
A sharp bite from the Ghost on her neck broke the girl from her vulgar train of thought.
Hot tears streamed down her face as she finally came to the conclusion that she could not escape.
Hearing her broken sobs, the Phantom pushed her off of himself forcefully and jumped out of the bed. His whole body was shaking and his eyes were burning with a longing Amy had seen in many a man.
"Go..." he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking with need.
When she didn't move, he yelled angrily, "Go NOW!"
Amy scrambled to her feet and rushed out the door, leaving the specter alone in his darkness once again.
The young ballerina lay curled up in a ball in one of the many large armchairs decorating a study-like room she had found. Hours had passed - or maybe it was only minutes, since there were no clocks in this accursed underground hell - since she had fled from that monster's chambers.
That monster's so-called bedroom where only a madman could feel at home.
A madman...or a dead man.
A ghost.
With his coffin - bed - adorning the center of his dark, underground grave.
And what a magnificent grave it was!
Rich tapestries hanging from the walls, painting pictures of distant fairytale lands so very contrast to the demon's pit. Great flowering gardens of bright, cheerful colors surrounded a glimmering white castle inhabited by Prince Charming himself. The very home where this valiant young hero would whisk away the distraught damsel after slaying the horrid, murderous dragon which had held her captive for so long. How fitting, that the knight in shining armor should be wed his beautiful lover while surrounded by the very fires of hell itself.
Amy could have laughed at the irony of it all.
The thick, exotic Persian rugs strewn about the room were a little darker yet of the same refined taste. Beautiful arrays of blacks, blood reds, and creams were splattered in a chaotic order that screamed of genius and madman. Chaotic order. How interesting.
Tall bookcases surrounded a fireplace on the center wall of the room. Novels of fantasy, books on architecture, old manuscripts of other languages, mathematics, science, the arts, historical references, picture books, dictionaries; all were strewn about in no particular order on the shelves.
Well, Amy thought. He seemed to be a well-read madman.
Sighing, the girl stared off into space and became lost in her own thoughts.
Thoughts of life before the Opera House.
Of when her parents were still alive and her siblings still loved her.
When they died and things took a turn for the worse.
How her remaining family had tossed her out of the streets after declining an offer to become some street whore.
Thoughts of the Opera Populaire filled her mind.
It was the closest thing she had had to a home since her parents died.
True, she had no friends. The work was hard and the pay was little. No one even seemed to notice she was alive, and those who did despised her for some odd reason. The bed she slept in was small, and her living quarters were shared with a dozen other girls, some so young and immature they were a constant annoyance.
Amy sighed. Where exactly had she been going with this?
Well, at least she had her notebook. It wasn't just a notebook, not to her. It was her ideas, her thoughts, her life. Unlike a journal, she never addressed her notebook as if it were a person. Even though it told a story of her life, it was always based around other characters. It was her thoughts, her feelings, her pain and joy, all expressed by some trusty people who she controlled.
She could manipulate the inhabitants of her notebook to do as she pleased. They could make stupid mistakes, ruin their chances for love and life, have no friends like her, and still end up with a happy ending. But only when she allowed it, of course. And since her life had yet to have a happy ending, the people of "Notebook" wouldn't have one either.
A noise behind her caught her attention and Amy turned around to find the Phantom a few inches away from her chair.
She yipped in surprise and fell out of the seat, causing a small chuckle from the monster before her.
Her eyes slit in anger and she was about to retort with a sharp answer, but held her tongue in check.
What was she thinking, reprimanding the Opera Ghost!
The girl got up and dusted herself off, keeping a close eye on the man before her and making sure to stay a safe distance away.
But, of course, he had other plans.
The Phantom took a step forward, Amy taking a step back. This continued for a while until the girl was blocked off by a lake behind her.
He took another step forward. She didn't move, unable to because of the body of water behind her.
The Ghost was very close now. He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, but the ballerina jerked back, saying just before she jumped into the water "Get away from me!"
She swam with all her might away from the beast behind her.
Even though the darkness before her was absolute, she pressed on.
The sound of a splash behind her tripled her efforts.
Water flooded her mouth and she kept having this annoying tendency to breath it in, causing her to splutter and spit it out, which in turned slowed her down. Muscles aching, she could feel herself being pulled under the black, inky depths. Like soft, inviting arms, the caress of the lake compelled her to embrace the darkness. The soft glow of the candlelight behind her faded into nothingness as she slipped under the surface of the water and followed the lake's beckoning call.
End the pain, it seemed to say.
No more suffering. Just peace. No more feeling. Just hollowness. Emptiness is better than what you have gone through.
But another set of arms jerked her back to the surface where Amy once again began spluttering and coughing. As her mind recovered from the numbness, the first thought that formed in the girl's mind was 'Why the heck did he have to save me. I was happy in my blind stupor.' When she could once again think clearly, more pressing issues entered her mind, such as 'I'm back in his arms. Now how do I escape?'.
She was pulled towards the candlelight which, only moments ago, seemed so dim and forbidding yet now bright and painful.
Her dark, wet hair stuck to the Phantom's chest as she leaned into his solidness and comfort. "Y-you...s-saved me," she stated, shivering slightly from the cold.
He only grunted in reply as he hoisted both their bodies back onto solid land.
The pain of seeing her jump into the lake hurt him more than she could imagine. She had embraced death, wanted it, welcomed it. She would have rather died then face him. The monster, the beast, the demon! All who have seen him, all who have known him, would rather face death than his horrid face. For just to look upon his grotesque visage was hell itself. And she hadn't even seen it yet! She hadn't even looked at his deformities! She had been told, and just to hear what that looked like was enough to convince her that death was better.
The Phantom was no man, he was a monster. No, a demon. A hell-bent demon with a face that could frighten the devil himself.
Without a word, the Ghost placed his cloak around Amy's shivering form and guided her through the underground labyrinth of his domain back up to the surface.
He feared what he might do to her if she remained with him any longer.
This girl had not been a good choice.
Oh well, he would just have to try someone else...
A/N: Don't hate me for how Erik acted. He stopped himself, did he not? Oh, and the actual plot should be appearing in chapter 10. Now, REVIEW!