The next day was very tense, at least for me. I was just waiting for the Phantom to jump out and Punjab lasso me.

After the first rehearsal of Il Muto, Marisa pulled me into Box 9, which, luckily, the Phantom had no access to.

"Paige," she said. "You've been acting really buggy lately." Marisa paused. "Is it because of the Phantom?"

I nodded, explaining everything that happened.

"Paige! You idiot!" she exclaimed when I was done.

"You're not the only one that thinks that, I'm sure," I said, gesturing at the rafters. "I swear, he's been out to get me all day, ever since I left Christine's dressing room last night. I'm just waiting for him to kill me."

Marisa nodded, agreeing.

"You need to be really careful, Paige," she advised. "One of us has to accompany you everywhere."

"And how is that going to stop the Phantom from killing me?" I asked.

Marisa had no answer.

~0~0~0~0~0~

I awoke at midnight that night, no thanks to the frosty breeze entering from the dormitory window. I stood up, walking over to the window to close it, when a hand grabbed my shoulder.

I froze. Turning around slowly, I saw him.

The Phantom of the Opera. The man who wanted me dead, or at least gone.

Before I could scream, he clamped a gloved hand over my mouth. He pulled me out the door, and through a stone door I'd never noticed until then.

It was the same hallway I'd come to the opera from. The candelabras flared to life as I was dragged past them.

"Why have you brought me here?" I asked softly, flinching as he turned to me, forcing me against the wall with both hands. Anger flashed in his golden eyes, leaving me wishing I had shut up and not said anything.

"Why, you ask? Let me see, you first lie to my Christine about being able to see the future, might I add that it was the worst lie I'd ever heard, and I don't understand why she believed you, secondly, you take her away from me, and, thirdly, you set her up with the Viscount de Chagny," he fumed. "Is that enough of a reason?"

I nodded quickly, hoping he waited until much later to kill me. Much, much later.

He continued to trek through the dark corridors, gripping my wrist with such force that I was afraid he'd break it, which was probably the least of my worries at the moment.

He basically threw me into the gondola, stepping in after me and rowing silently and angrily. I was afraid he'd break the paddle.

"I still don't understand why I'm here," I muttered to myself. "So you hate me, probably want to kill me, but why down here? Isn't any place as good as another?"

"Who said I was going to kill you?" the Phantom spat.

I almost sighed in relief.

Almost.

"So," I said, "If you're not going to kill me, what are you going to do?"

I turned to look at him. I regretted it. His eyes were full of unspent anger and fury.

"What am I going to do?" he asked. "You tell me."

"Let me live?" I whispered timidly. "Let me go?"

The Phantom laughed darkly. "Let you go? I'll let you live, but I never let anyone go. No one escapes the Phantom of the Opera."

I wouldn't be so sure, I thought. Christine did it in the movie. You even let her.

When we reached his home, the Phantom stepped out of the gondola. He turned to me, offering his hand to help me out. I searched his eyes for the overflowing anger there was before, finding none.

I took his hand reluctantly, my uncertainty obvious.

The Opera Ghost sighed. "I'm not going to hurt you," he assured me.

He led me to his swan bed, which I recognized from the movie.

"Go ahead and make yourself comfortable," he said quietly, closing the velvet curtains and leaving me to my suspicions.

Apparantly the Phantom simply kidnapped to kidnap, and I could tell he had no intentions of hurting me. I'd see it in his eyes if he did.

Another thing I'd noticed- his emotions flickered from good to bad almost instantly. I'd have to be careful with what I said and did, to avoid his Punjab lasso.

Not even bothering to put on a nightgown from the chest of clothing he'd put inside the room, I fell to the bed, engulfed myself in the silky sheets, and fell into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Phantom POV:

I was tired. I had been playing my music from Don Juan Triumphant, my latest work of art, and it was getting late.

My eyes flickered instinctively to the grandfather clock in the corner. Midnight.

I realized then that the girl was inside, probably asleep, in my room.

I smiled to myself, unlocking one of the spare rooms and pulling the divan inside to sleep on. I was smiling at the fact that I referred to her as 'the girl'; I'd kidnapped her, scared her to death by my instant-change emotions, and I didn't even know her name.

No! What are you talking about! You hate her! She took Christine away from you, why do you care what her name is? Stop it right now, Erik!

I leaned against the divan, my thoughts as jumbled as ever, and fell asleep confused at my own mind.