Hello again readers! I'm sorry it's been a few days since I've posted, I've had a little bit of writer's block trying to fill in Erik's Point of View but fear not! The next few chapters will leave you wondering; does she live? What will happen to her family? And what about Foss and DuPont, will they be caught? For now, enjoy this softer chapter of The Phantom and the Stagehand, before things blow your mind (insert appropriate meme here). Please leave reviews! I really would love some feedback from you guys. I remain your obedient servant,
~The Southern Rose~

I burst into the manager's office, the two nitwits actually doing their assigned jobs of managing the money and not sticking their noses in MY art. The two bolt upright, one of them swearing under his breath.
"Monsieur Please! A knock would…" Leroux started to whine. I slammed my fist on the table
"She's back!" I shout. Their pens fall to the table, ink blotting the parchment. They gave each other stupid, dumbfounded looks; looking more like codfish than men.
"When did she return? And how did she escape?" Badeaux inquired
"Where is the girl Monsieur?!" Leroux begged.
"I know not how she escaped, but I do know that she is safe and so help me if anyone tries to harm her…" my fists ball around a loose pencil on the desk. 'SNAP', the sound echoing through the now dead silence. I do try to keep my composure, but the image of her frail, weak, thin body caused my blood to boil. A small knock breaks the tension in the room.
"It's only me monsieur." One of the managers bid the voice come in, my attention still on the now broken pencil.
"Mamselle, how nice of you to visit. What can I do for you?"
"Madame sent me with suggestions for the next performance." I see Leroux gesture to the girl
"Thank you Mamselle, just sent them on the desk. Anything else Madame needs for the performance?" there was no response, just the rustle of fabric. I hear the patter of feet start to cross the room, the sound slowly growing before stopping.
"I don't think we have met monsieur…" her voice purring. I remain still, ignoring her attempt to entice me.
"And I would like to keep it that way…" I hear the rat huff and puff like a horse before turning and walking out.
"Mamselle! Before you leave, tell Madame that the stagehand girl has returned and I would like to see her as soon as possible."
"That's impossible!" she cried out. Her voice was on edge, nearly in a state of panic. I turn my head, making sure to keep my mask hidden. Her thick raven hair was unruly atop her head, a curly mess as untamed as a rat's next. Both managers looked up from their work, curious at the girl's response.
"Care to elaborate on that statement…." I let out a growl.
"Yes Mamselle Foss, do elaborate on your statement. How is it impossible for the girl to be back?" The girl began to mumble and stutter like a child caught in a lie. She slowly began to back away, her eyes locked on me.
"Answer you managers' girl, and answer the owner of this opera house…" I turned full view, seeing her skin pale and eyes go wide made me smile.
"You…You… the phantom…." I slowly nodded my head as I gave the girl a twisted grin. She quickly bolted out the door, throwing it open and letting it slam against the wall. I disappear from the office, half tempted to follow the girl. I walk back toward Belle's room, the sounds of busying people getting ready for Christmas. The smell of pine trees float over the air as the grand hall is transformed. Garland is hung from the staircase, silver tinsel glimmering in the flood of daylight through the windows. At each post, a large red bow is elegantly tied. At the entrance of the staircase are two logs, both tied with red ribbons. Servants, maids, stagehands and ballerinas alike pass by the logs, putting their hands to the Yule Log for a brief moment before leaving with a smile.
"Not yet! You don't set out the Créche until 3 days before Christmas!" One elderly gentleman barked. My attention is drawn to the young stagehands holding a wax figure of the Virgin Mary, her head covering dragging on the ground.
"But the managers said to put it out now for the ballet recital tonight." The elderly man rolled his eyes, taking his monocle and cleaning it on his shirt.
"Alright fine, but it certainly isn't tradition. And I better not see a Christmas tree in here until next week!" He promptly set his eye glass in his right eye before turning to other decorators and barking more orders at them to add tinsel until the ballroom glistens like the stars. The whole room was to be as gaudy as the streets of Paris. People buying things left and right to appease expectations and have something bigger and better than their neighbor. I walk along the wall, keeping out of sight. The sound of breaking glass and swearing catches my attention.
"Watch where you're going!" a maid cries out as she is covered in wine. The girl doesn't even look back, but grabs her suitcase and bolts out the door. I continue along the wall and through the stagehand's quiet dorm. Most of them are either out with a ballet rat or at least trying to. Their dorm wreaks to high heavens, like they are less men and more animals living in their own filth. Though you may be men, have a little decency to clean up around here! A rag never hurt anyone. I kick bottle after bottle of numerous variations of liquor. I cover my nose with my sleeve to try and muffle the screaming stench. I dare not think of the things that go on in these dorms; booze, many men missing the pot and hitting the wall instead, and heaven forbid they bring one of those scarlet women back here for a night. At least when I reach the exit, the air is fresh and clean. My mind begins to drift back to Belle, who is probably still asleep in my bed. Her dirty auburn hair spilling over my crimson pillow, her body barely making a dent in my plush mattress and her face, so filthy and shallow, almost like a different person. I make my way to her room, occasionally having to slip into the shadows to avoid people. I could feel the effects of the sleepless nights starting to take hold; my eyes were burning like fire and my body ached like that of a 60-year-old man. When I reached her room, I hardly recognized the man staring back at me in the mirror. My eyes were dull, their icy color now melted away with anxiety and worry and had bags that weighed heavily from guilt. I was a walking apparition, my mask now darker than my skin. I pushed the ghost aside and stepped through the mirror, making my way back to my bed and back to Belle. The walk down the steps seemed longer than usual, my feet practically pounding into the stone steps. Once I finally crossed the lake, I dragged myself to my bedroom, using the door as a crutch.
"Erik mon douce…" a small voice whispered. I bolt upright, my body suddenly full of energy and life.
"Belle!" Her smile, her precious smile melted away my anxiety and worry. Her hair flowed to one side and pooled on the sheets as he rested her head on her knee. Flying across the room, I embrace her with all I can muster. "I will never let you go, I promise mon amour…" her hair was no longer silky, but still felt wonderful in my hands. It was all I could do not to squeeze the life out of her.
"Ah!" she stifled. I let go, sitting next to her on the bed. She had a long fire red scar on her cheek, purple marks on her neck.
"What did he do to you…?" If that monster laid one finger on her I will kill him, slowly…
"It's nothing really…" her voice defeated and quiet.
"These bruises are not nothing mon ange…" She looked away from me, her eyes focused on the abyss as her hands idly fiddled with the scarlet sheets. I slide the sheets from her hands, making sure to keep her calm and still. I could hardly believe what I saw; legs that were once strong were now covered in scrapes and bruises. I could see her on the verge of tears. I put a hand to her back, only to have her flinch at my touch. My mind began to race, imagining what that man did to my girl. My eyes burned with the question I couldn't bring myself to ask.
"I don't wanna talk about it. I want them to go away and never surface." She whimpered.
"Belle please, I can, wait…them…?" She slowly nodded her head as she pulled her dress over her head, turning her back to me. Her back was now a canvas of purple and blue, like the late dusky sunset. The blotches of color reached around her sides, hugging her ribcage.
"No…" my hollow voice whispered. Her back remained to me as she covered it with the dress. My eyes darted around like flies. He had an accomplice, that monster AND his filthy accomplice did this to MY girl! My little angel… They say no fury hath that than a woman scorn, but they have yet to see the fury of the Phantom of the Opera! My fury shall put God Himself to shame. "I'LL KILL THEM BOTH!" I cried out, committing my last breath to their demise as I pound my fist on the table, nearly breaking the oak nightstand. I pace about the room, rage and wrath being my source of energy. They will RUE the day they touched my Belle! I will have their heads as lampshades and use their bones for kindling! The image of Belle being helpless in their grasp flooding my mind. Their hands on her body, using and abusing her like a whore…
"DAMN YOU ALL!" I screamed, taking all of my anger out on my solid wood door.
"NO PLEASE! DON'T HURT ME!" a helpless and pitiful cry ringing through. My mind snaps to the sound; I see Belle curled in a ball toward the head of the bed, a weak hand raised in defense. Oh my sweet… returning to her side, I hang my head and take her hand in mine, kissing it softly. How could I let this happen? A small hand turns my face, meek eyes meeting mine. I swear I will protect you my love, and I will never let this happen again. I take her other hand and place a kiss upon it.
"Stay here and I will get something for that." I leave and return with a bottle of alcohol and a rag. As I clean up the cut on her cheek and other smaller ones across her forehead, the sight in my bed made me smile. It was almost as if I had found a wandering child in the street. Her face was now striped with clean and dirt, bringing a smile to both of our faces.
"I think someone could use a bath; I don't want you dirtying my bed any more than you already have."
"Well! I see you care more for your sheets than me!" and promptly crosses her arms, turning her back to me. At least they did not break all of her…
"Mon beau ange cheri! You know that isn't so!" I playfully pleaded. I moved closer to her, softly wrapping my arms around her boney waist as I cooed softly to her "Would a hot bath and a beautiful song please mon amant le plus mangifuque…?" Her body melted to mine as I purred in her ear.
"I really need to clean up, I am tired of being a mess. Plus, some beautiful music and handsome company would make everything so much better…" her words dripping from her lips. Dear Lord above woman… I kiss her cheek and scoop her in my arms.
"You are such the devilish woman; you know that?" She gave me a grin that made me shake my head and sigh. I set her down next to the tub, pulling the screen across to give her privacy. One day I won't have to… I left her to the bath while I flew to my piano grand and began to play the piece I wrote the first night she wandered upon my hiding. The more I played, the smaller my anxieties became and the more I began to think of having a future with Belle. One day I did want to leave the opera house, maybe have a small cottage in Paris; hell maybe buy the opera house out right and run it with her at my side. My full mask that hides all of my deformity has worked before; no one thought me any different from them. Just a tall, handsome man out for a walk among the crowds and venders before the opening of the opera house. Only Antoinette and Meg know the sound of my voice beside the managers, everyone else would be oblivious. I would be as gentle as a lamb once we married… the thought of marriage to Belle made my heart leap for joy, the music following it.
"Bon sang!" I stop mid measure and rush to the sound. Belle is on her knees in the nightdress, her head leaned against the wall with one hand trying to hold it together. I pick her up and pull her close to me, her pitiful whimpering breaking my heart. "Erik…please…hold me…" I softly kiss her temple as I lay in her in the bed. I change into my nightshirt, letting the fabric fall loosely to my shins. I wrap her in my arms, the soft smell of lavender and mint filling my nose.
"Take that silly thing off…" her voice gruff like a man.
"I will frighten you even more…I am nothing but" a pair of chapped lips meet mine, sending my world spinning. I let her remove the mask, freeing me of a crushing weight. She pulls back, a pair of tired, warm blue eyes meeting mine.
"I want to love all of you, not just part…" I pull her to my chest, placing a long and tender kiss to her forehead. I begin to softly sing, running my finger through her now glossy hair. I look down to see my little angel fast asleep, her body was still and her hands were wrapped around my arm like a child clutching a stuffed animal.
"One day my sweet, I will be wed to you…" she remains still, the subtle rise and fall of her chest the only sign of life. "I love you Belle…forever and always…" I place another soft kiss to her forehead before pulling her into my chest and drifting off to sleep.