To Erik's shock and horror, the face beneath the mask was not the travesty he had envisioned. In fact, not one blemish marred the face that stared back at him with tear-filled eyes. "Perfection". The thought came unbidden to his mind as only it could to the mind of an artist. Belatedly, he remembered his own uncovered face and with a curse under his breath, he scrambled to replace his mask.

With a sigh, Angelique turned away to replace her own mask. She had known what lay beneath Erik's mask, who in Paris didn't? This was not the way she had wanted it to be.

"I suppose for you to truly understand, I will have to tell you my whole story from the beginning and perhaps from just a little before it." Here Angelique paused to take a deep breath and Erik hat the feeling that he was about to be entrusted with something almost sacred.

"My mother," she began softly," was once a dancer in this very opera house. A promising talent, she rose quickly within the chorus and it wasn't long before she had many admirers, but she was dedicated to her art and so she turned them all away…except one; my father.

For reasons which she could never fully make me understand, she thought my father was different and soon she fell in love. I suppose he must have been very charming. News of me came shortly after and naturally my mother was forced to give up her career as a dancer. She turned to my father for help, but suddenly his love for her seemed to vanish. He called my mother a whore, and said that she could be carrying anyone's child, everyone knew how theatre people were and so on. It was the biggest disappointment in her life.

So, broken-hearted, my mother went out into the world and tried to make here way the best she could, but few places would hire an unwed mother. That's how we ended up at Le Chat Souriant, a tavern and hotel of sorts.

I know it wasn't a place mother would have chose for us if she could have afforded to be choosy. It was in the red-light distract, and it didn't take me long to discover what went on in the uninhabited rooms at night.

We lived in one of the unused rooms upstairs. My mother was a server and as soon as I was able, I became one too. As I grew older, I began to notice that some of the customers looked at me strangely. I didn't know what it meant at the time, but it made me feel uncomfortable and give me a sick sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. My mother must have noticed it too, because one night, not long after, she sat me down and gave me a box wrapped in paper.

'What is it?' I asked, excitedly. We were poor and I didn't get presents often.

'A gift, the most precious gift I think I can give you.'

She told me that it would protect me and that I wouldn't have to be afraid anymore.

By this time I had opened the package and was holding the mask in my hands. It stared back at me with hollow eyes and my excitement in my mother's gift began to fade. My mother must have sensed this because she quickly urged me to try it on and have a look in the mirror.

Somehow, with my eyes staring back at me through it, the mask seemed to become a part of me. I never removed it in public after that. My mother invented a story about a childhood illness or accident, I'm not sure which, that had left me scarred. Soon everyone who frequented the tavern had heard my story and men who had once looked at me with desire now viewed me with pity and sometimes even disgust, but it was a welcome change.

It wasn't long after that that mother died from consumption. Not knowing what else to do, I stayed at the tavern. I was young and unskilled; I couldn't imagine anyone wanting to hire me for any other position. I was happy for a time. I had my friends, both those who worked at and patronized the tavern, though only a select few had ever seen my face.

Then one night a couple of gentlemen came to le chat. It wasn't that unusual to see well dressed gentlemen in our establishment. It was a sort of refuge for them, where other members of high society were unlikely to come and so they were free to do as the pleased with no fear of anyone alerting their wives and families who would surely be scandalized.

The two men sat at the table farthest from the door. I remember one had beautiful blond hair and a sweet face; I didn't care too much for the other. He gave off a sort of dark energy, the kind that made me sick to my stomach and as I the tables around them, I caught a bit of their conversation." Here, Angelique hesitated as if reliving the moment. "I won't tell you what he said, but it made my skin crawl and I could feel my face getting hot under my mask. He was talking about me.

As I served them, I could feel his eyes always on me. It had been so long since I had someone look at me with desire that the feeling of disgust and paranoia was so overwhelming, I had to go outside for a breath of air.

I left my duties and ran to the ally behind the tavern. I couldn't believe it. Despite the mask, that man had desired me. It seems some people are naturally attracted to the macabre. I was just trying to process this, when I heard footsteps to my right.

My hand automatically reached for the stiletto concealed in my coat as I turned to return back inside.

'Where are you going in such a hurry?'

It seemed I had realized my error in judgment too late. The dark man stood in front of me blocking the way back inside and back to safety.

'Excuse me, monsieur I have to attend to my duties.' I said trying to find my way around him.

'I only want to talk to you for a bit.'

Suddenly there was another I heard another set of footsteps, It seemed his blond friend had joined us. "Henrique please, she is obviously not interested."

'What are you talking about? The girls in this part of town are always interested. Isn't that so, Mademoiselle?' he said turning back to me. His breath reeked of liquor and by the way he was swaying unsteadily on his feet I could tell he was very drunk. 'Don't worry, we can pay.' He laughed, 'Hell, you'll probably get more than you make in an entire night! Now stop acting coy, and give us a kiss.' He grabbed my arm and I instinctively drew my knife and slashed him across his middle. He didn't have a chance after that and I'm sure he bled to death. I heard his friend come over to where we were. He had been standing back before, but now he ran forward, whether to check on his friend or to attack me I'll never know.

'Don't touch me!' I screamed as I slashed blindly in his general direction. After that I ran. I ran and ran until I came here. So there you have it, I am a murderer twice over."

Erik, slumped into his chair and held his head in his hands. He had hoped it had not been true, but his once again his damnable instincts had been correct. He sighed deeply,"No, not twice over. Not yet. One of your victims is still alive, just barely."