Hey guys! So, this is quite a long chapter but i felt like breaking it up would have ruined the rhythm, so to speak, of the narrative. It might be a little longer than you are used to for the chapter after this one because i only have a draft of it at this point.
Also, i don't know who might be reading this... so even though the story is rated M, i should mention that there is a little violence in this chapter. To be expected when reading a Phantom of the Opera fanfic, i suppose!
Thank you again for all the support, when i get a review, a subscriber or a follower it really makes my day. :)
Phanty belongs to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Weber
I give you chapter 7! Enjoy!
Slowly, as quietly as he could Erik continued towards the light. Being able to get around unheard was one of his many skills; it had been from a young age. Not that it would have mattered; he was able to hear their gruff voices and raucous laughter long before he could see them. As Erik got closer to the mysterious light source his fears were confirmed; the mob. It was them. They were waiting for him.
They weren't making any efforts to keep quiet at all- why should they? Finally he reached them and keeping himself close to the wall so as to prevent being seen (as was his usual prerogative) he carefully peered in. Here, the cavern opened up slightly creating a small room. Just as he had remembered there was a doorway at the far side of the room but he would need to get past the mob in order to reach it.
Hopeless.
He looked around the small space.
At least ten men.
Not as many as he had thought but definitely more than he could fight off. Just as he had suspected, the gendarmerie had left. Some of the men he recognized to be stage hands, others were members of the company and there were a few whose faces he could not place. Some were sitting, some standing; it looked as if they had been waiting for a few hours at least.
"Let's just go. It's been hours. He must have escaped." One of the smaller men complained.
"No, fool. This is the only way out." Replied a large, bearded man.
"That beast... How... could he?" Muttered a third man who was sitting down behind them all, clearly more emotional than the rest.
"He is still here. It won't be long now. We must wait."
"Yes." Another added. "We must. For Piangi."
"And Buquet."Added a stage hand.
Erik looked down. He had heard enough. Buquet had deserved it; he was a fiend, a terrible excuse for a man. But Piangi... that, he did regret. At the time he had been mad with jealousy and Piangi's only crime had been being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He hadn't even thought on it until now. This night had been such a whirlwind of emotion; so much had happened. This night had been like an opera in itself, perhaps the alternate ending to the performance which Christine and he were never able to finish; the ending to Don Juan Triumphant.
No time.
He took a deep breath and peered into the room a second time. Many of them were holding torches. He looked down to see that most if not all of them had weapons in their hands; pistols on their belts.
Those are for me.
Instinctively his hand flew to his hip, searching for something that was not there.
His Punjab lasso.
He silently cursed himself as he realized where he had left it; back in his home.
What have you done?
He had left his home in such haste that he had neglected to take with him his most important item...
Second most important.
He had forgotten his mask also.
At this thought, Phantom or not, he began to feel something which had been absent from his life for almost 20 years; fear. Usually, those who saw his face did not live to speak of it but in this case he did not need to worry; either they would kill him or he would kill them all... but he did not have weapons; how was he to protect Christine?
My Christine, I have failed you again!
He moved back behind the wall and decided to head back to Christine who was probably worrying by now.
He turned around but instead of being greeted by the familiar darkness of the cavern he was hit with blinding pain as his ribs met with something hard and blunt. He keeled over. Before he had time to consider where this pain had come from his face was hit with what was probably the same object, knocking him onto his back. His nose was now gushing blood. Erik opened his eyes to see two, albeit blurred and spinning men standing above him, familiar expressions on their faces.
"Got him!" one of his assailants yelled into the small room. Groggily, Erik looked at the man who had yelled and was able to identify his weapon as some sort of a makeshift club.
That's new.
"Bring him in!"
These men must have been hiding in an alcove he had forgotten to check. Again, he cursed himself for being foolish but it was probably too late. His carelessness could be the end of him, worse; the end of Christine; the final nail in the coffin that was their future together.
Christine had seen the men come out from behind Erik and it had taken everything she had not to yell out. She had promised him. She began trying to think of a solution but the harder she thought the less hope there seemed to be. The only thing she could think to do was to go him; it could mean the end for them both but at least she would be able to see him again. She began soundlessly crying as he was dragged into the room.
Erik's world was still spinning as the men began pulling him into the illuminated room, therefore initially he did not put up much of a fight. After a few seconds everything came back into focus and he could see numerous sets of eyes glaring down at him;hateful and sadistic, almost animal-like in their thirst for blood.
"Wait..." He spoke, able to taste his own blood as he opened his mouth. "No." He realized that once he was inside the room all hope would be lost and so began to struggle despite the pain in his side.
A third man ran to assist his friends as Erik began to stand up. Turning to his side, he pushed one man away from him and punched another man in the jaw; most likely one of the men who had been holding him. Suddenly pain struck as he was hit in the jaw by someone to his right. Momentarily stunned, his face was met with another blow. A few men grabbed him and his struggles met their end as he felt a knee make contact with his stomach. He coughed and bent over, temporarily bested.
The first man raised the club he had previously used to assault Erik and in his excitement was about to bring it down on Erik's head. At the last second it was pulled out of his grasp by a bigger man.
"No. Not yet. Against the wall." He ordered to the rest of the men who immediately obeyed. He turned to the man with the club. "We all want retribution, tonight we will have it."
It took five men to grab hold of his arms and push him up against the back wall of the small area. A few of the men cheered at their accomplishment. Erik tried to struggle but it was of no use; even he could not fight off this many men without a weapon. He raised his head to see the hateful eyes of his attackers; their glares were not something he was entirely unacquainted with; it was somewhat of a loathing, fearful, disgusted look and he had seen it the eyes of many over the years.
The large man who had spoken now stood directly in front of Erik, a hateful grin upon his unshaven face.
"My god." He smirked. "The rumors were true." He moved closer to Erik and looked him in the eye, an attempt at intimidation. "You are just as ugly as they say." The rest of the mob seemed to appreciate this jeer and there was somewhat of an ovation for the man speaking.
At first Erik only smirked; insults like this had little effect on him anymore. He knew that he was ugly. He stood up as straight as he could, given the circumstances and stared back at the man through disrupted strands of copper hair; his eyes unwavering and invasive. After a few moments, he spoke.
"So then... you must be the leader? What now then leader?" He asked sarcastically. "What is it that you wish to do with me? What is your big plan?"
The leader laughed and turned away from Erik.
"Big plan..."he mused. "We haven't decided yet."
Suddenly he spun around and threw a punch at Erik's face.
"It will be a long night for you though... I'm afraid." He said, waving his hand about as if to shake off the pain Erik's jaw had caused him.
Erik spat out blood and looked up at him; a crazed look in his piercing eyes. He refused to break eye contact. He had had worse than this, much worse.
"Where is the girl?" His assailant hastily asked. At this Erik flinched. He hoped it had gone unnoticed.
"She's gone." He lied, spitting again.
Erik had not been on speaking terms with God for many years, but right now he was praying for this man to believe him.
"...Went back to her boy. Left me."
Please believe me.
The leader gave him one scrutinizing gaze before shrugging his shoulders.
"Can't say that I blame her."
A sigh of relief.
Thank god.
"So, tell me monster... Why did you kill those people?" He walked up to Erik until they were mere inches away from one another. Erik detested being this close to someone; to people, to mankind.
Yellow teeth.
"People?" Erik asked casually, feigning disinterest; purposefully antagonizing the man in front of him.
"Yes! People! Buquet!" the leader grabbed Erik's hair and forcefully jerked his head back so that he was forced to look up, moving in closer still. To this Erik grimaced but it was more a result of the proximity than the pain. "Remember, the scene shifter?! You strangled him for no good reason? Ring any bells?"
"Oh yes." Erik replied apathetically. "The stage hand."
He smiled smugly. "I do not believe I need to justify my actions to you... a man of your... intelligence could not possibly hope to comprehend. Suffice it to say that I felt he did not deserve his life; therefore I took it from him. Simple as that."
At this the rest of the mob yelled in outrage, almost begging their leader for a chance at revenge.
"Simple as that?" the leader repeated, mockingly. "'Simple as that', he says." He grabbed Erik by the shoulders and thrust his large knee into his body causing him to bend over his captor and cough deeply. That had hurt.
"Did you think that you would get away with it!?"
Erik looked up, his eyes watering but showing no signs of submission. Despite the pain he was in, he couldn't help himself, the smug smile returning to his face.
"Why, yes. I rather thought that I would."
This enraged the large man. Again, he threw a knee into Erik and stood back with a smile to watch the result.
Again, Erik coughed and doubled over, only this time he coughed for a little longer, bent a little lower.
He was tiring of this, and it was getting quite painful. He began to think. How could he get out of this without involving Christine? There were so many men, was it even possible?
A yell sounded from the back of the room. "And what of Piangi?!"
"Yes! What of Piangi?" the leader repeated, stepping up to Erik once more.
Erik looked around the room, disinterested in the conversation around him. He needed to think of a way out of this.
There must be a way. There always is.
"Didn't you hear me?!" The man yelled at Erik, the stolid expression on his face only serving to aggravate him more.
"I heard you." He replied calmly, although he was genuinely shaken out of his planning by the yell. For this he received another punch in the face.
"Piangi!" the large man yelled, bearing down on him.
Erik did regret Piangi. His kills haunted him each and every night and would do for the rest of his days, some he regretted more than others; this was one of them.
"Well... "He turned his head to the side and spat some more blood. "I simply felt extreme indifference to his living."
He was simply in the way...
What have I done?
The man looked at his cohorts, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. Of course, Erik had expected him to express his rage. He prepared himself and sure enough, the rage followed; a punch in the face followed by one in the stomach. Again, Erik was grabbed by the shoulders as a knee was sent into his body, only this time white-hot pain shot through his entire torso. His eyes widened as he felt excruciating pain in his rib cage; something had cracked, broken or fractured... he was sure of it. All he wanted to do was lie down but he could not. Several men were still holding his arms, intensifying the pain with every movement.
He couldn't yell; he didn't want to give them the satisfaction.
Now a little bit sorry for antagonizing his captor, part of him began to wonder whether he deserved this for what he had one; what he had become and the lives he had taken.
"Starting to feel it now? Are you sorry yet?"
Erik looked up, blood covering his mouth and nose.
"I've had worse than you." He rasped. "...Worse than this."
"Just kill him!" yelled one of the men holding him. Erik looked up at the man who had spoken; a menacing look, a chilling grin on his face. The man's breath caught in his chest his eyes widened but he did not loosen his grip.
"Not yet." The leader pulled a knife from his belt. "You are going to pay for your crimes tonight, murderer."
Erik looked at the knife, then at his captor. "Torture it is, then?" He asked nonchalantly.
Nothing new.
"Tell me..." The man began, purposefully ignoring Erik's rhetorical question. "What must it be like, living with a face like this?" He dug the blade of his large, dirty knife into Erik's left cheek. He closed his eyes and flinched. "Let's even it out for you." He growled.
Searing pain cut across Erik's face as the blade broke the skin. He momentarily broke his resolve and yelled at the initial pain but quickly silenced himself. Blood began to seep out as the blade moved down his cheek.
Usually when Erik found himself in a situation such as this; when he was forced to endure extreme amounts of pain he would visit another place in his mind. Since he did not have any happy memories of his own he would use his imagination; create a memory and lose himself in it. During his time with the gypsies he had spent a lot of time in one particular fabrication; his favorite as a child;
He is 9 years old and he is sitting in front of the fire in his childhood house. It is his birthday. His mother had taken him into town and no one on the street had given him a second look. They had had a great day walking hand in hand in the sunshine. He had played with the children in the town while his mother was shopping for his present. They had eaten sweets by the lake and had taken the long way home just to make the day last longer. Erik and his mother had walked back home as it was turning to dusk. The weather was perfect and he could feel a light summer breeze upon his face; he wasn'twearing a mask, he didn'thave to.
Then it was evening time. His mother reads him a story in front of the fire; Sasha, his beloved pet lying in his small lap. Now it is time for bed. His mother looks down at him with a loving smile and gives him his present; a small mirror.
"So that you may see yourself as I see you; perfect in every way." She says. He is disfigured but his mother takes no notice of it. She loves him for who he is.
"I love you, son." She says and kisses him on the cheek without a second thought. She loves him. His mother loves him. And that is all there is. That is all that matters.
That was all that this 'memory' had comprised of; a perfect day, a perfect place in time which had never happened- could never happen. He had spent hours upon hours of his childhood wrapped up in a fantasy that would have seemed nothing more than ordinary for any other child; any other person, anyone but him.
Now, he actually had a memory which he could draw upon; his time spent with Christine- her time spent willingly with him.
They were sitting there together on the cold, stone floor, wrapped in each other's warmth.
"Relax." she said as she rested her head on his shoulder.
...he tightened his grip around her
...she moved in closer still and wrapped her hands around his waist.
Soon enough Christine was asleep; her head against Erik's shoulder as if it always had been there.
Just as he had begun to enter this glorious and very real memory, the pain stopped and Erik was brought back to reality.
"Don't feel that?" A voice in front of him asked. He had forgotten the man had been there. "Let's try again."
Erik felt the same searing pain he had before, only this time on his chest. This time the pain was too much; Erik couldn't enter his memory regardless of how real it was. He tried to struggle as his captor pushed the blade in further. He closed his eyes.
Christine. Christine. Christine.
..."Relax." she said...
...she wrapped her hands around his waist...
Christine.
...and
Concentrate
...and she...
Don't lose it. Concentrate.
...She...
The blade broke the skin and as Erik audibly yelled the small crowd cheered for their leader. As the man actually began to pull it across Erik's chest he could not help but cry out and struggle to be free.
Christine had closed her eyes and was facing the wall. She did not know what to do, she was going mad! She could hear their horrible yells and laughter echoing through the caverns towards her and she knew exactly what was happening inside that room.
"Please god." She whispered as tears ran down her cheeks. "Please, please help me. I don't know what to do. Please save him..."
"This can't happen! Not now... I don't know what to do... I can't..."
A battle was waging inside of her; should she say? She couldn't possibly bear this any longer. But what should happen if she were to go to him?
Suddenly, a yell sounded from inside the small room; his yell. She looked up in alarm and began audibly crying, a sound which did not reach the ears of those she so feared; they were quite distracted...
I can't just stand here... I can't.
