I opened my eyes and shot up, all sleep had washed out of my consciousness. I shook the nightmare from my head as I rested my head on my knees, refusing to go back to sleep and let the nightmare get me again. I checked my watch, it was only five thirty. I rubbed my eyes and got up to do my morning routine, it was a nice Wednesday morning in February and next Monday Faust was going to open, since this was the play/movie version of Phantom I wasn't worried that Christine was going to be taken by Erik. Soon the Phantom as I knew it was going to start and I knew there was no way I could convince Erik not to put on Don Juan. Part of me wanted to blame Raoul for the fate of the Opera but I knew it wasn't his fault, in all likelihood Erik had gone into a jealous fit and done the only thing he knew how to do: attack.
I shook the thought out of my head as I walked down to the bathroom. Since I'd gotten up an hour early no one was in a mad dash for the bathroom. I filled the tub and slid under the hot water, trying to chase away the chill of the nightmare. I scrubbed my hair with my conditioner, breathing in the scent of baby powder. I let the hot water take away all my worries.
ERIK
"Erik, what are you hiding underneath that mask?" Danielle had come down to my home to talk with me. The conversation was idle and she'd turned it around to ask about my face.
"I am hiding my shame, this face is not worthy to be seen by anyone." I turned away from her and began to compose again.
"Come on, it can't be that bad." I turned to answer her when she ripped my mask off. Her eyes, once filled with laughter filled with disgust and horror as her pretty eyes were laid upon my face. Her body went rigid as she backed away from me, screaming "Monster. You're a monster! A demon!" She flattened her body against the wall and would not listen when I tried to get her to quiet. I slung my lasso around her neck and listened as she gasped for breath, clawing at the rope. Her legs grew weak as her strength left her, finally she was dead. As the red mist of anger lifted from my mind I looked in horror at my work. Good God, what have I done?
I woke with a start from the nightmare that had shredded, at least temporarily, my last strand of sanity. I could still see Danielle dead at my feet, horror forever frozen onto her innocent face. I shook my head, trying to dispel the image, but it would not leave. I left my home to check the ballet dormitories, I had to be sure that what I saw was a dream and nothing more.
I walked the tunnel that connected to the passageway into the dormitories and looked in. Danielle was there, thank God, in what looked like a troubled sleep. Her brow creased and her breathing was rapid. Her eyes flew open and she sat up, looking around to make sure that she was still safe. She sat for a while and checked her watch, she'd never get up this early but I knew that, just like me, she wanted to escape the horror of her nightmare. I followed her down the hall to see she was going into the bathroom. I wondered what had caused her nightmares; I know what caused mine.
When I was four my mother sold me to gypsies and turned away when I called for her. My father pulled her into a carriage and were gone.
"You're ours now boy." The gypsy man cawed at me before he shoved me into a cage like an animal and taking off as my screams for help melted into the cold London night. I'd never seen my parents again. As I grew I was hardly let out from that prison of a cage, not even to use the bathroom or take a turn about the woods we hid in when the police were hot on our trail for stealing something of value from one of the people who came to gawk at me. The Devil's Child. The freak. They would laugh and jeer as the horrible gypsy man would beat my little body with all he had in him.
The first night they put me on display I'd begged the people as they came in to help me but they had laughed at me pleas. The gypsy man came into the cage, kicked me in the ribs and pulled my mask off to show the crowd. Fifty men, women and children. Fifty faces filled with disgust and loathing. Again and again he ripped my mask off to reveal this abomination on my face and again and again people would laugh, scream or throw things at me. Most of the time all the above.
The gypsy man would beat me until I was black and blue all over before he left me to cry myself to sleep. In between towns The bruises would heal enough to not show so the gypsy man fixed that by whipping me mercilessly. Before the age of six I knew the horrors of this world better than any adult. I was given hardly anything to eat in those four years in the gypsy carnival, and what little I was was stale. Some of the kinder gypsies taught me little things about herbs and medicine, one kindly old woman taught me to read. I picked up many languages, soon speaking all of them fluently for the day I would make my escape. The only thing that kept me from losing every bit of my humanity was the knowledge I was gaining and the music the gypsies danced to around their campfires.
I had always loved music, since I could remember I had wanted to play instruments like the piano my parents had kept in the parlour. I did not know when I started playing but it seemed like reading music came before I could speak and the melodies I created haunted the mansion of my aristocratic parents. The few maids and butlers were sworn to secrecy of me, I was sure of it. My high fashion family could not stand it if the other aristocrats knew that their 'stillborn' son still walked the Earth. When they sold me I had no more piano.
When we were wondering somewhere in Greece the gypsy man brought in a crowd of finely dressed aristocrats. I was six and had grown out of my first mask and the gypsy had given me a burlap sack with eye holes that hardly allowed me to see out of them. This crowd pressed against the bars of my cage, taller men craned their necks to watch the gypsy man rip off the sack and pulled me by the hair Faces jeered back at me in expressions I was used to seeing; disgust, anger loathing.
"Beat the devil out of him!" A man in the crowd yelled. The gypsy man pulled the whip from his waist, the crowd laughed as he whipped me until my skin was a bloody mess. I looked at the faces again, way in the back I saw a woman and an older man. The woman had her hand clamped over her mouth and tears streaming down she cheeks. She was looking at me. Was she taking pity on me? Was she crying for me? The crowd left the tent, handing a small sack of money to the gypsy man.
"I'd like to have a private viewing of the child, if you don't mind." Came the soft voice of a woman. I managed to lift my head enough to see that it was the woman from the back and the man she was with.
"Isn't much left to look at." Came the voice of my slaver. How I hated him.
"I'm sure I could amuse myself for... ten minutes?" I saw her hand him a heavy looking sack of money. The gypsy man grinned, grabbing the money.
"Ten minutes of gawking at the Devil's Child privately, just for the two of you." He exited the room. The woman turned to me and slowly walked forward. I moved to the far end of my cage, scared she would hurt me too. She got on her knees and began to weep again.
"You poor boy, you poor sweet boy." She pulled food out of her bag and placed it in my cage, there was enough for a few decent meals, fruits, bread and dried meats. "No one should be treated like this. Come here." She reached her hands through the bars and I crawled towards her. She caressed my hair softly and I began to cry. It had been so long since I knew a kind touch. "Turn this way, I'll see if I can clean your back." I turned my back to her and she wiped a wet cloth against it. "This may sting." She applied some ointment to the cuts and I winced. "I wish I could help you more. You don't deserve this."
"Then why is this happening to me?" I rubbed the tears out of my eyes.
"Because there are horrible, horrible people on this Earth." The bitterness in her voice surprised me.
"We have to go now." The man spoke for the first time. I grasped her hand.
"Don't leave me." I begged her. Again she caressed the twisted skin of my face with a sweet smile.
"You'll see me again darling." I didn't let go of her hand. She hummed a tune softly to me and held me as best she could through the iron bars, I relaxed against her beating heart, thinking there was no music more beautiful. I blinked and she was gone. I spent months for her to come back but each day her face became fuzzier and fuzzier until I couldn't remember what she looked like at all. She must've been an angel, some goddess of mercy taking pity on me. Six months later we were in Paris. I had sewed some scraps of cloth into a little monkey, the only toy I had to amuse myself. I heard the gypsy man's living monkey screeching on the top of my prison, announcing the new crowd come to gawk at the freak. I ignored them and put some old finger symbols that one of the gypsy dancers had discarded on the hands of my little friend and chimed them together.
The cage door opened and my friend was kicked from my hands and the gypsy man knocked me over. I raised my hands in a weak effort to defend myself as he beat me with a wooden stick. I looked out at the crowd, hoping to recognize the woman's face, but it was filled with little ballerinas my age. The way their pretty faces contorted in laughter at my pain was disgusting.
I felt my strength leave me as the gypsy man again pulled off my mask to the horrified ballerinas. He forced my head up as all could see my shame. I tried to keep the tears from falling as they laughed at me. One girl, who held onto the bars of my cage looked at me with pity. Finally someone pitied me. It only made it worse that she was standing there watching the horrors that my life was. I cursed this abominable face for gifting me with the terrible life I was to suffer. Finally the gypsy man let me go to collect the coins tossed by the onlookers. I grabbed my mask and pulled it on as they left me alone with my tormentor.
No. Anger welled in me. I would not take this anymore! I undid a rope hanging from a bar of my cage. I crept up behind the greedy gypsy and threw the rope over his neck. He tried desperately to pull it off but I refused to let go. It was time I walked free. I picked up my monkey and looked up only to meet the eyes of the girl who had looked at me with pity. Would she call for the police? Quickly she opened the cage and ushered me out.
"Come with me quick." I wanted to ask why she was helping me when a shout rang up from outside the tent.
"Murderer!" We looked to the tent flap where another gypsy stood. She pulled me away to the back exit and we ran through the dark streets of Paris. Behind us came noises of pursuit, which had faded a bit as we came to the corner of a great building. She pushed me through a small passageway and told me to wait for her. I climbed down and went through a small passageway into a little chapel. I looked around and quickly found a door. The girl met up with me.
"This way!" She said as she pulled me down into a dark tunnel, I could hardly see in front of me.
"Where are we going?" I asked. Wherever it was it had to be better that with the gypsies. When we stopped running we were at the top of a long stairway that spiraled down into a darkness that looked deep as hell. All my emotions caught up with me and I burst into tears. "Thank you. Thank you." I let the sack covering my head to absorb my tears.
"Don't cry. I had to get you away from that horrible place, you can stay is the Opera Populaire, I'm a dancer here. My name is Antoinette Delaurier, what is yours?" I could hardly remember myself.
"Erik Destler. How can I stay here? Won't someone find me?" I looked down the stairs, not knowing what was at the end.
"You could hide in the tunnels underneath the Opera. I found this tunnel when I was exploring a while ago and at the end of this staircase there is a boat, I'm sure that there's a land mass that you can convert into a home for yourself. I'll try to get you food and clothing and some materials for you to create your home." I was amazed that this girl was willing to help me with so much when she hardly knew me.
"Thank you," I said again for lack of anything to say.
"Wait here while get something for you to eat and wear." She turned to go but I grabbed her dress, hating to look of the clean white under my grubby hands.
"Don't leave me here." I begged her. She pulled her dress from my grip.
"You can't come with me, the cooks will suspect something and I don't think we could walk down the halls without being noticed. I will be back soon. Here, you can come with me until the hall, but you have to wait there with the light." I nodded and followed her until the hall where she broke off. "I'll only be ten minutes." I hid the light behind the corner and waited for her in the shadows. It seemed like hours until she returned. She handed me me some of her bundle and threw a thick blanket over my shoulders before picking up the light and starting down the long stairway.
We got to the end and there was a small, old wooden boat. "I know it does not look very sturdy and that's why no one will come check here. You could build traps to stop them from finding you and live here." She Tied a long piece of twine to the top of a pillar on the dock, "It's best to be safe than sorry." And used the long pole to push off from the dock. We glided through the water for a while as I let the twine unravel behind us. Antoinette told me that these caverns were created during the revolutionary war in 1792.
"Up there!" I pointed to a land mass that was perfect. It must've been used to hide weapons or people, there was a stone stair that led up to a small area that I could convert into a bedroom.
"If you could get the material you could build yourself a home down here. I'll help you of course, but I'm not sure where we could get wood." She docked the boat and we stumbled out. "They are constantly getting rid of furniture upstairs, I'm sure we could bring some down here." She pulled the bundle out of the boat and set out the objects inside. She'd brought me new clothes, though they did look used it was better than what I had on some more blankets, candles and food. At the sight of it my mouth watered. How long had it been since I'd last eaten? "Here, you look like you need a bath and this lake is pretty clean." She handed me a bar of soap, I was embarrassed at my filth.
"Thank you." I went into the lake and rubbed the bar against my skin until some of the dirt came off.
"Why do you wash with that sack on your face?" I turned to face Antoinette.
"I don't want you to see my face. I can't look at myself." I shook my head. She couldn't understand, I thought.
"I have already seen your face, it wouldn't matter if I saw it again." She took off her cloak and stockings and tied up she skirts. "Come here and let me help you." She looked so sincere I obeyed her. She gently pulled off my mask as I stood before her squeezing my eyes shut. "Sit down so I can wash your hair." I looked up at her. She showed no change in emotion as she looked into my face. I sat in front of her and let her wash me clean; I thanked whatever God had sent her to my aid. "There, now you're all clean," she said. She took me to the bank and helped me dry. I put on the clothes and felt like I could go to a night at the opera.
"Thank you, I haven't been treated like I was part of the human race since... never. Not even my parents could treat me with love because of this face." I held my hand over the right side of my face, hiding the mark that had ruined my life. I hated humans. Every last one of them. Except Antoinette and the woman that had taken pity of me. I had to face the very real fact that I'd never see her again and she would only become a memory of a memory.
"You are welcome but I must go back, it's been too long since I disappeared, they'll begin to worry." She put her stockings back on and climbed into the boat again.
"When will you come back?" I asked her.
"Tomorrow. I'll try to bring more candles and clothes, maybe some furniture. We could use the wood to create a bed for you." She pushed off and went through the tunnels again. I was left alone. I almost felt a bit bit better that I could sit and gather my thoughts. Yes, I knew how to build things, I'd seen the gypsies do it millions of times when they had to fix the cages. I could build my home in this place. I arranged the blankets into that of a bed and fell into a deep sleep that was dominated by nightmares.
Antoinette came back the next day as she promised, thought I had no idea of the time that passed. The boat was loaded with pieces of wood and building tools along with several pieces of clothing, I suspected them to be cast offs from previous plays. Antoinette had a big smile on her face. "You'll never guess what the Opera is getting rid of!"
"What?" I said bewildered.
"A wonderful, beautiful bed from a performance of La Lujuria Secreto. It is iron in the shape of a swan with red velvet pillows. They said that they were reviewed badly that play and they'll never put it on again and to prove it they are throwing out the most expensive prop. You could help me take it apart and bring it down here. I already have the cushions," she waved towards the scarlet pillows underneath the wood, "it would not be easy but I'm sure you will like it." I helped her unload and got into the boat and pushed off. It was not easy taking the swan apart. First the wings then the neck and for the body I had to leave Antoinette at the bank and come back for her.
"If the swan was going to be my bed then what is the wood for?" I asked. I hardly spoke to her, after so long without someone to speak to it was a hard habit to adopt.
"I thought you could use a desk encase you wanted somewhere to set candles. you will need a lot to fill this room." She was right, it was dark as Hell in here. "Do you need anything?" Antoinette said as she helped me reattach the second wing to the side of the swan.
"Could you get me some paper and ink?" I wanted to work on my writing and reading skills along with writing down the melodies that had been stuck in my head since I was deprived of my piano. "And music sheets?" She looked at me with surprise.
"You play an instrument? You must let me listen to you play sometime." Soon the bed was in one piece and Antoinette put the pillows and blankets on. It was indeed a beautiful bed and I was grateful Antoinette had thought to salvage it for me.
"My parents sold me to the gypsies when I was four and they used to let me play the piano in their parlor for hours." She looked horrified at the actions of the people who were responsible for bringing me into this world that had rejected me.
"That is the worst thing I could ever imagine to do to a person. I'm so sorry." Her strong french accent became heavier as the sorrow in her voice leaked through. Then a smile crossed her lips.
"In a few days the new performance will begin. During those three days after the last show ends and the new one begins everyone goes home or goes to a friends home for a break. You could play one of the pianos the the orchestra keeps for the shows and to help the actors learn their songs." I could hardly wait to play again. It seemed like years before she led me through the hallways of the Opera and sat me again at the instrument that I loved most. My hands flew across the keys and I lost track of the time. Too soon was Antoinette telling me I had to go back.
As the months grew on the orchestra was able to buy new instruments and I salvaged a cello, violin, harp and flute. They would not need a new piano but they did give me the makings of an organ. Antoinette helped me assemble this and soon it sat beautifully in my home. Every drawer was filled with music, some of my own and some Antoinette gave me from her productions. As I grew older I acquired a porcelain mask that covered my face and tried to attend every show. I had inside knowledge of the Opera House, I'd memorized every nook and cranny, every secret passageway in the tunnels below. It was as if I had become a ghost; a phantom that haunted the Opera House. It was after my fourteenth birthday, six years after I'd come to the Opera Populaire, when I found out that the financial manager of the Opera was stealing money from the Opera each month. I pulled him from his office one night and hung him from the rafters.
"Who are you?" He asked as I was about to push him over the edge, sending him to his death.
"I am the Phantom of the Opera." I sent him over and smiled with grim satisfaction when I heard his neck snap. I left a note telling the manager of what he had done and signed it 'The Phantom'. Antoinette wasn't happy I had killed him and told me that I could have told her what he was doing and had her tell the manager. "He would not have listened to you, you are still only a dancer." Not long after Antoinette began getting courted by a young man named Fredric Giry. He was fairly well off as his father was a lawyer and was soon to take up the practice. Antoinette had explained that he was a 'fair man' who took cases for the less fortunate. I'd bet that he'd come to laugh at me when I was still caged.
"You are leaving me," I said as Antoinette told me of her impending marriage. I couldn't stop the hurt from welling within me.
"No, no! I will still be here helping Madame Landri with the dancers. Erik I wouldn't leave you, you are my friend and you mean the world to me." I felt my heart fill a little bit. "My marriage only means that my world will expand to include my husband as well. I'd like for you to come to my wedding but I don't think you'd like to be around all those people." I felt relief that she knew I'd like to be there but couldn't Antoinette was really a kind woman and good friend. I began sending notes to the manager demanding he keep box 5 empty for me so I could watch Antoinette's creations come to life and then demanded a salary to keep the cast 'safe'. The manager was only too happy to comply. Antoinette soon became 'Madame Giry' to the girls after Madame Landri passed and I could have not been happier for her.
"Erik, wonderful news!" She burst into my home when I was seventeen looking like nothing could ever have been better. I guessed she took the passage directly to my home, I hadn't been listening, only Antoinette knew of that passage. The main one I had rigged with traps for intruders and I informed Antoinette with each new one.
"What?" I hadn't the foggiest idea as to what could make her so elated. "I am going to have a child Erik! I'm going to be a mother!" I congratulated her, knowing that she would be a wonderful mother to the child, even if it was born as deformed as I. And so came into the world little Marguerite Giry or Meg as her mother called her. I understood she had her fathers eyes. "I'd like you to be the god father Erik." I was honored and accepted, though I'd never be known to the child. After only five years of marriage Antoinette's husband died in an accident. I'd never seen her so sad in my life. I did everything I could to help her through her hard time, trying to repay her for when she helped me and pulled her out of her despair by telling her that she needed to care for her daughter as her only parent left. A day later Antoinette held herself together and did her job. I was impressed she could heal, at least part way, so quickly. I got another little surprise later that day when my little Meg visited me with a fistful of daisies.
She toddled up to me and said "Tank you for fixing mommy." I brought her back to her worried mother and thanked her for the flowers. I kept them dried between two statues I'd acquired here and there. Years later I sat in box 5 and watched little Meg and Christine become friends as Gustav and Monsieur Lefèvre worked out the days he would play his violin after he witnessed the triumph the was Hannibal. It was spectacular and it pained me to find he died only a few months later, leaving young Christine orphaned. As she prayed for her father night after night I finally took pity on her enough to speak to her. I became her Angel of Music and grew to love her as she matured. Never had I ever thought by Antoinette saving me I'd find the woman I loved. I had plans for her to shine in the next production. Hannibal. Christine would be Elissa if Lefèvre knew what was good for this Opera.
Long chapter! Sorry it was late, but I do have a life Character belong to their creators. Did I freak you out with the beginning? Erik would never kill Danielle! Sorry if I scared you! Review! Hope you enjoyed! Everyone belongs to their respective people!