So, here we humbly are on Chapter three, awaiting for new mysteries. I'm sorry for the briefness of this one. I only wanted to finish this chapter before the night was over and as it draws near, I get myself to a stopping point. The next one will be longer, I hope. (reviews are loved, thanks!)

Chapter Three

Trembling, Evelyn poured out more sorrow in her tears. Attempting to wipe them away, she silently cursed the voice for leaving her in her moment of need. She wanted the unidentifiable voice to return, his tune, caressing her into a cocoon of unknown pleasure. She had proclaimed secrets to this unknown person, trustingly. Why? How had she been to foolish? In her weak state, she let the voice, venture into her displayed anguish. That downy, yet vicious melody that entered her soul, inviting. Where had it gone?

Clenching his fists and grounding his teeth, Erik paced through out his lair. If anything got in his way of walking he violently would hurl it out of his path., banging noises echoing every few minutes. How stupid was he to go? And worse, leave the poor girl in such a state of distress! Oh, what a monster he was. His fingers dug into his distorted cheek as he peeked at his figure in a long mirror that rested on a stone wall. In loathing of his appearance he thrust his hand into the mirror where his menacing face stared back, mockingly. How he hated himself! Why could he not just die in his pity? Could God not comply to one of his wishes such as this? The mirror cracked under his blow, a few fragments scattering to the floor. He ignored the seething pain surging in his knuckle, refusing to nurture his wound. A monster such as him should only be allowed to feel what he felt now, throbbing hurt. Feeling a stare piercing through him, he glanced to the floor where a candle flickered, revealing an old sketch of his past love, Christine. How he had given his soul, his music, his heart to her and she repaid him. She left him for that fop Raoul. She tore out his heart as she dissolved away in his gondola with Raoul, embracing in their love. Love, He spat with such venom. shredding the paper. As the scraps plummeted to the cool ground, he stomped away to his chamber's.

Everything in the cast lair reminded him of past memories. Haunting memories filled with distress, aches and tempting vengeance. How he craved to hang the man behind his pain, but it wasn't Raoul who had destined him into this solitude. If he hadn't deceived Christine in the very beginning maybe things would be different. But even then, how could Christine fall in love with such a rigid, horrible looking man? He had only the choice of tricking her into trust. He clutched at his aching heart, taking a seat down on his massive bed. These memories always plucked at the wrong strings. How dare this new girl mislead him into coming from his shadows. Almost he had gone into her room, but thankfully he snapped out of his state of haze and confusion. Never had a voice summoned him from the depths of the dark, except…Christine…Tears silently crept from his eyes, sending his into a fit of madness. How the thought of the one he loved and would continue to love until the awaiting day of his death. troubled him. I gave you everything. He whimpered as he took off the leather cloth to clean the sticky tears that clung to his mask. The sulking ceased as he remember what bitter end he had concluded to. She left you, fool. Stop mourning. No tears can lead her back to this dungeon of darkness. He clicked his jaw, grinding his teeth in a show of distaste. Dare I say, is their a man behind this monster anymore? He questioned himself, placing his mask back on his pained visage.

Why did I come back? What was here for me to regain? He recalled when, after the vengeful mob trashed his lair, returning, to rebuild his murky home. After the accident, no one had bothered themselves coming down here to check the where about of this demon, for they assumed he was long gone. He wished they were right, chastising himself for his imprudent homecoming. Longing for death, he lied under the sheets, sweat sticking to his thin, white shirt. He sighed in frustration, thinking once again of the angelic voice of the red head he had hurried away from. He shouldn't have uttered a word to the girl, his voice soothed her to a point of addiction to the serenity. But hadn't he known this. Was that not his intentions? Had he not come to bring her peace of mind, if only for a minute, as he had Christine? Trapped in thought, he fought his way into fits of sleep, hoping in the night, the reaper would visit.

Evelyn, refusing to let her eyes shut for fear of slumber, waited for the voice. She knew, deep down, it would not return, at least for now, but she couldn't help but linger to the hope of another visit. Pain crashed down on her as if they were violent waves, thrashing against her heart. See what you done now? A little voice in her head chimed. Someone else you scared away. At least they had no knowledge of your blindness. For then the voice would have only pitied you. What a hollow shell you have become… She ridiculed herself at her own bitter taste of words. Do not deny the truth. Her mind echoed. Digging her head into the soft pillow, she felt like screaming. I just want to be me again. Can I not at least pretend? Her mind shook with laughter at her childish fantasies. She could only pretend as she lay dreaming.

Evelyn conjured up a past memory, when she was content, unaware of how precious things were.

"Grams?" She questioned, sauntering into the drawing room on her light feet. Her grandmother peered up with her radiant face, smiling at the child before her who seemed to have just woken from a dream. Rubbing the sleep dust away from her eyes, little Evelyn sat next to grandmother, her head resting on her shoulders. Evelyn examined the new creations that lay in front of her, her grandmother's works of art, pouring over the desk. In her late age, she had taken a fancy to this way of art and imagination. Though, Evelyn didn't know, they really were all from past experiences.

"What is it would you like, my child?" Her warm, motherly voice whispered in her child sized ear.

"I had a nightmare." She uttered in shame, digging her head into the crook of her grandmother's neck, enveloping Evelyn in a sweet fragrance. "Please sing to me."

Her grandmother smiled at the youngster before her, caressing the girl's small cheeks in her long, slender fingers. "Alright, darling." Softly the song came from her throat, swathing the child into a dream like state. The young child, now nineteen lay in her bed, the lyrics forming on her lips, mutely.

Come to me, angel.

Let music caress your soul.

Let me take you to a world,

Which you have never known.

Bring forth the darkness and the night,

Do not be frightened, my child.

The shadows can not touch you.

Close your eyes and be in peace for a while.

The light I hold shall guide you.

Into fit less slumber.

At the last line, Evelyn would fall asleep in her grandmother's arms as she intended the young child to do. In her whispering voice as she carried her granddaughter back to bed, she spoke once more:

I must save her.

Erik, do not let me corrupt her.

She must never know,

Of the Angel of Music that was deep down below.

Deep down below, She echoed, remembering how the Phantom haunted her in the Opera House as she was only a mere ballet girl. Her end was coming, she knew it. She could feel death beckon to her. She had already deceived death once, but twice could not be possible. Only a few years did this soul have to live and she would cherish them every waking moment and even as she slept. This old women refused the morbid subject to dampen her spirit as she covered the innocent girl. Evelyn's red, wavy locks spread across the pearl sheets and pillows, her childish features plastered with a face of warmth and purity. Smiling to herself, her grandmother blew out the candle on her bedside table, feeling relief and comfort.