Authors Note: I do not own the Phantom. To be frank, I have no Idea how long it will be. I will go through Erik's entire life though. Lets see, and actually this was supposed to be called Memoirs of a Mad Man until I found out that there is a classic novel already in print and it made me cut myself a little.

July 1889

My parents had never truly loved me for the monster I was, for which I cannot blame them, but every fiber of my being wishes to. My mind through enormous emotional flips and turns, goes from blaming her to not blaming her, to blaming me. I do not think I can control it's assumptions and conclusions anymore. I have begun to question every act of kindness and unkindness from everyone that I ever knew, wondering the origin of their actions.

When I was a child, my family was my world and their unkindness was a great blow to me. I was the only child that I have ever known who's mother not once looked on me with love in her eyes. A mother's love is supposed to be unconditional. She never loved me.

As I became more distant from my family, I stopped eating for days on end, just so that I would not have to associate with them at the dinner table. Finally after a few days, someone would bring me food and shut the door quickly after the delivery. I did not mind because I did not have to see them or talk to them to get food. After a few days, they'd forget to bring food and my fast would begin again. While I remained alone, my anger grew as a boiled about the same misdeeds that my family had done to me.

When I decided that I could no longer remain in the house, I went to open the attic door and realized with surprise and overwhelming hurt, that this entire time, I had been locked in my room against my will. I could not come and go as I thought I had been able to. This pushed me over the edge. I do not remember much of the rampage that hit me. I know that I did not hurt anyone. My attic was destroyed. Walls were broken in and furniture unturned. After the mind blank, I awoke in the wreck of a room where my family now stood.

I was breathing quickly, and bleeding heavily. The latter was probably with regards from the shattered window and glass mirrors. I looked up through my matted brown hair to meet my mother's eyes. She was difficult to see through my red vision attributed to either the blood or to the anger that still clouded my vision. I grabbed onto a piece of glass and squeezed the sharp edges into my skin. My father stepped in front of my mother, keeping her close behind him.

Then suddenly, my anger and hatred were all washed away. All that I saw through my child's eyes now was my mother, father, and little brother. I was frightened, not knowing where my mind had been. I was frightened that I was not able to control myself and I fell to my knees and cried as a child does.

My dad screamed at my brother to leave the room and then his anger was turned back on me. I was beaten as I yelled out in pain from his kicks and hits. When my mother and father left me, I remained on the floor, unblinking. The tears had stopped and hardened.

That night I jumped out the window onto the nearby tree. I never saw that house again. But I remained in contact with my brother. Being four, his memory of the event was non-existent in his later years and for a while, he thought of me as a normal sane person. In fact he hardly knew me from the few years we were siblings in the nest. His view of me was more beautiful than I actually was. He believed me to be an ugly son who my parents loved but noone gave me a chance just because of my face. To him, I was a normal child with an abnormal countenance. Too bad I had to destroy his mislead memories, we could have remained brothers.

I was gone and noone ever came looking for me.

That first night was the hardest. I was caked in blood and did not have much strength from the beating that I had received. I fell asleep, I think. Either that or I fainted. I was then awakened by some children who, as soon as I lifted my face, fled in all directions.

Surprisingly, the children did not affect me. Getting up from the grass, I began to walk. I had no place in particular that I was heading, but I kept going. During this grand adventure of mine, I would sleep in barns or under trees and eat anything that I could find or steal. Then one day, the only abode that was remotely nearby when I could walk no more was that of a church. One of the windows had been left carelessly cracked open by a church member. Pushing open the remainder of the window, I lifted myself into the church. This had to be a sin I knew and that gave me even more reason to break into that church.

Dear me, losing track of time as I do, forgot that the next day was the Sabbath. The priest arrived early as luck would have it and caught me asleep on one of the pews. Since then I have learned to be aware of my surroundings even as I sleep. Nevertheless, ignorant of how to go unnoticed, I was caught.

He was obviously disgusted of my appearance. Yet, he treated me with kindness. Seeing the poor condition of my clothes and my own well being, he took me into his care. I will not say that I liked that white neck but I did appreciate the generosity that he showed to me at that time. Under his care, I received my own comfortably furnished room, three square meals, and a warm bed.

Of course, being the "savior of souls", the priest did all he could to try and convert me, even going as far as to give me a bible. I read the book admittedly. I wished that I could believe in a superior being but the concept did not fill me inside as the priest had said it should. When I read the so called holy book, I felt nothing but anger. The bible had said to love one another as yourself yet, I was not treated just as everyone else by my family nor neighborhood children. Even their parents who should have been more mature threatened me if I should ever come near their children again. At that time, I was not as violent as I am now.

The priest became annoying in insisting that I should get baptized so that I would be saved. I tried to explain to him that I was no mere being and that I was already cursed to Hell from my birth. I would let him drone his sermons into my ears and I would quite simply ignore them. The subject did not interest me and eternal life mattered not.

Obviously, finding the priest's religion and it's practitioners contradictory, I left within a few days in a happily demonic mood.

And that reminds me! Her name is Christine. I don't have interest in her though. It is just nice to put a name to a face. It will be her birthday, I think I will leave her a gift. Yes, that should please her. Erik just wants to make her happy.