A/N: Okay! Here is another chapter that sort of leads into the next one a bit. The next one is going to be a lengthy one which is why this is on the shorter side. I am currently re writing the first few chapters because they are horrible and some of the major points need clarifying. So when they are put up if you want to read them you are more than welcome to!

Thanks to my beta Anne! You are amazing and I love you so much! You have done amazing things and have taught me so much about grammar and other writing techniques!

Please enjoy and review!

Chapter 14

The air was damp, the scent of decay and mildew parading through the air, resting in the irritated noses of the preparing officers.

"I do not like the heaviness in the air, Captain. It is a sure sign of death. And that smell," the man gagged slightly, "it is wafting through the air freely--the smell of rotting flesh." Pierre shivered visibly and his voice shook as the words death and rotting hissed through his pale lips. The captain slapped him on the back reassuringly and laughed.

"The only death down here tonight is going to be the one of the supposed Crimson Phantom. He is a monster; kidnapping an innocent woman is the worst crime next to harming a child. We are about to do something great that will forever be carved in the stone of history, men!" The Captain's voice was deep, aged from years of an authoritative position, and the scalding grimy office coffee, if it could be called that.

"Make sure you are prepared for this, men; this Phantom is cleverer than any common criminal. Pierre! Jacques! Marq! Frederick!" The captain continued until each of his seventeen men were standing in attention. "All right! We have orders to search each and every cellar in this opera house. According to the managers, this monster will most likely be lurking in the lowest cellar of this grand building; the fifth cellar. Watch your footing once our journey begins, this phantom most likely has numerous amounts of traps set up."

~oOo~

She expected to wake to the sweet melody of Erik's expertise music as it slowly filtered into her mind, pulling her gently from the sub consciousness of her dreams, but instead the air was dead, still with silence. It was then that she realized one thing; the image behind her eyelids was gleaming red. Erik's lair was in the fifth cellar of the opera house; no natural light would be able to reach her. The sun was shinning across her flesh as the fuzzy memories had returned. The Crimson Phantom. She forced her eyes open, her sight blurry and dark, unfortunately neither blurry enough nor dark enough to miss the Crimson mask suspended tauntingly over her face. It was then that her stomach lurched and she sat up, glad for the bucket suddenly shoved into her arms. She heaved up everything she had digested within the last twenty four hours and once she was finished her voice was scratchy and her throat burned of an eternal flame.

"It is just a reaction to the chloroform. Your senses and body should be back to normal in a couple of hours. I am sure that you must be hungry, but seeing how rough the side effects are, I made you a bowl of lightly seasoned broth and some fruit, bread, and water." His voice was void of any form of human consciousness, no grief, no pity, no compassion; he was a droid, an alien in human form. Mollia looked into his stone eyes and down to the food. Her gaze fluttered to the bright light filtering through the double French doors leading to a large stone balcony. When had she been here, in this same spot before? She cleared her throat and looked back at the crazed monster in front of her.

"Where am I?" She coughed violently, and he waited, not moving an inch as she hacked. His voice shook her very soul, sending ice through every vein in her body.

"You were here often as a child and I thought that you might have remembered, but you must have been too young. The fates will reveal things eventually, though I prefer to stay out of it." He sighed and sat the tray next to Mollia, settling himself by her side, hoping that she would just eat and be obedient like she was as a child.

"Where is Erik? Please don't harm him." Tears sprung to her eyes at the thought of his yellowed flesh and glazed eyes, staring up at her in eternal pain and death. She would not be able to live if he were dead. The Crimson Phantom's eyes hardened if possible and he glared out at the balcony as if it had done something horrible to him.

"That man is of no concern to you. You shall never speak of any other man again! Do you understand me, my little angel?" Mollia glared at him, tears of molten hate dripping from her burning eyes. He reached out a cold hand and she pulled away sharply.

"If you will not show me Erik, then I will do nothing but sit here day after day and waste away. No food shall pass by my lips, no words shall escape my mouth, no sweet singing will reach your monstrous ears, my gaze will never land upon your horrid face again and never will you get anything from me. It will be as if I am nothing but a corpse, a living corpse, and I will be just that until I waste away and meet my true death. Death will be my only salvation as long as you keep me here and as long as it is a possibility that Erik is no longer of this world." Mollia finished her speech, her back tensed against the head board, fist clenched in her lap. The Crimson Phantom stood, taking the food tray.

"Your weakling beloved is still of this world, but for how long? I am not entirely sure how long his status will stay that way. As to wasting away, it will only be a matter of time until you are begging for nourishment and some form of company, even if it is a monster such as me." The door shut behind him and Mollia rolled over, screaming into her pillow. Then she sobbed, her heart tearing out with torturing pain. She cried for an hour or so and sat up, getting a full layout of the room. It was spacious and colorful, the walls a light shade of pink, the bed a canopy style with soft cotton blankets and feather-filled pillows. The room seemed appropriate for a young woman, but the prettiness was overshadowed by the claustrophobic air that swept over Mollia. She curled into a ball, her body producing more tears until a small epiphany befell her.

"All Erik has done is save me and help me, and here I am in his time of need, moping around like a lost little child. It is not I who is waiting for him; it is he waiting for me this time. There must be a way to get to him."

With a new ambition in mind, Mollia set to searching the room. She searched the desk drawers only to find a few pieces of parchment and nothing else. She searched the dresser and wardrobe to find enough clothes for an upper-class woman. Nowhere was there a weapon of any sort to be found. All of the pictures were hung with some sort of adhesive instead of nails or anything with a point. Then Mollia noticed the bucket that she had used earlier. It was made of a hard metal, light enough for her to carry in her weakened state and but hard enough to do someone damage. Mollia sat back on the comfortable bed and waited for her prison guard to arrive with lunch. Although she would not eat, she hoped that he would leave the food for a period of time. It was then that she would wait for him to retrieve the untouched food, and it was then that she would strike.