Forever Yours
"Remember, love never dies…"
-Christine, Love Never Dies
Monica sat before her men, head low as her black hair covered her face and prevented any of them from seeing her expression. Her hands were clenched around the large Victorian chair at the front of the meeting table. Her legs were stretched out in front of her, she made no move to say or do anything else.
"The Jackals are calling in their charter from Russia, what do you want us to do, boss?" Greed asked pulling his jacket around himself in order to hide the bloodstains that Kiri had left behind. Several more questions were thrown out before the meeting erupted with chaos, shouts and complaints were made loudly across the table.
Monica rose her gaze to look at the commotion that her men were causing, the room in which they argued in called for respect not total disorder. She sat in the chair that had once been held by her father, she would not have his memory insulted in such a manner.
She stood and instantly the room silenced, she walked around the large table as bikers sat down when she passed by. Her face still shielded from their view as she stopped and turned to look at the patch that hung on the wall.
"I do not care who they call in, you will show respect when you imbeciles are in here," she snarled, her back to them as they settled down with shamed expressions. "I will not have you barking orders at each other like dogs, you disgrace the patch you all have on your backs," she snapped before turning to face them.
Logan stared at her and felt a shiver run up his spine, her eyes held no life in them. Her jaw was set tightly as she continued to walk around the members at the table before her. The expression on her face was one that couldn't have been blanker.
Something had been broken, Logan knew that by now. She was beyond repair; her harsh words only confirmed it.
"Call the Spaniard, I want my father's charter here," she ordered coldly as several men pulled out their cellphone and stopped when they looked around and finally let one of them call.
"Are you sure you want to drag Spain into this?" Beelzebub asked wearily, he knew the reputation their father's men had. They were ruthless when it came to confrontations; they were the very heart of the Bastards.
"I already have Germany here, I want those pigs to suffer for what they have done," she barked slamming her fist upon the black wooden surface of the table causing several bikers to jump back in surprise and shock.
Beelzebub glanced around and nodded, he could see the bottom rockers of several men, sure enough the words 'Germany' stared back at him. She had called in the worst of the gang, there would be blood tonight.
She took a seat in the president's chair once more before taking her revolver from her waist and running a hand over the cool metal. She checked the number of bullets that she had, she smirked, a lone bullet met her gaze.
Several men watched as her finger brushed over the trigger of the gun, while others started to move out of the way in case she decided to let loose a stream of bullets. It had happened before with other leaders before her.
She laughed when she glanced up to see the panicked faces of her men. Greed stared at her in concern when he noted the emptiness in her one joy filled laughter; this wasn't the leader he knew. He shot his gaze over to Beelzebub who stared back and shook his head, his sister was gone.
The woman in her place wanted blood, blood for the family she had lost to the rival gang.
"You're all going to die," she laughed when her men stared back in confusion, "you don't even trust me anymore," she added pointing her gun at the man she had to her right and pulling the trigger. The biker shot out of his seat and fell backwards before realizing that he was still alive. That proved her point; she smiled to herself in dismay.
"That troubles me, how can you concentrate on anything other than the fact of not knowing when your own are going to turn on you?" she asked once more standing and walking over to the biker that remained frozen on the floor. "It was empty the whole time," she whispered to him before stepping over his body.
"Felix wouldn't have done that to get his point across," the president from Germany, Vlad, pointed out helping his second in command who remained on the floor in shock. Monica's head snapped over to him in rage, Beelzebub only stared at her with sadness in his eyes. The woman he knew was gone; she had been replaced by someone he didn't know. Jekyll had died permanently, Hyde was here to stay, of that he was sure.
"Do not speak my father's name," she hissed taking him by the collar of his leather jacket and slamming him up against the table. She held him in place by the back of his neck as he struggled beneath her iron grip. "You did nothing when the bastards gunned him down, you have no right," she spoke softly into his ear. He stared at her with slight fear; from his limited eye sight upon being face down on the table he could see he had pushed the wrong button with her.
"If my father was still alive…the city would be nothing but ashes by now," Monica yelled at them as several men nodded in understanding. Felix had been rather unpleasant when someone crossed him; he had once blown up an entire charter's bar to prove a point.
She let go of the man beneath her as he rose his body slowly and turned his head cautiously to see her standing behind him.
"The charter from Spain is on its way, no more than thirty minutes," Greed pointed out as Monica's eyes shot to his. She nodded before walking away from the biker that she had slammed down on the table. "They were already on their way when they heard of…" Greed trailed off afraid of saying Kirimi's name not wanting to find out what Monica's reaction would be.
She stared out of the window for the briefest of seconds, her eyes narrowing as if she were remembering something from long ago. She turned away and faced the bikers in the room once more.
"I am not immortal," she started as they all turned to face her, "and I am sure that none of you are either," she added with a sneer. "I will not have you walk into this against your will…I can guarantee that you will not come back alive," she told them as she saw the patch on the wall once more.
"I know several of you have families to take care of, children to protect," she continued, turning away from the grinning skull, "I will understand if you wish to remain here, do not make the same mistake as I did and leave them unprotected," she warned her men as several shifted in their seats.
A silence settled over them before Beelzebub stepped in.
"I know we don't belong here, we're Wolves, I understand that," he told her as Vlad turned to look at him with interest. "But I speak for all of us when I say that I want Jackal blood for what they did," he snarled stepping closer to the table of bikers who stared at the young leader with interest.
"They killed Felix, gunned him down knowing that he had his defenses down," he told the men in the room as several clenched their teeth while others growled at the memory of finding their leader dead with bullet wounds all over his chest. "They killed Mercedes, one of the most beautiful women I ever met…she had 30 wounds on her chest, all made by a knife," he added as Monica's eyes locked with his own.
He had never spoken of her mother; it wasn't until now that Monica realized that he had never hated her, he had a deep respect for Mercedes despite him not being one of her own children.
"They killed my brother Micah and his wife Luna, both of them were only twenty years old…" he added with venom in his voice while other men rolled their shoulders and started to crack their knuckles.
"Kirimi…my angel," he added choking slightly when the memory of her death resurfaced in his mind. He would never forget that night, "they shot her, they shot a child!" he yelled as the bikers around the table snarled and stood from their chairs in outrage upon being reminded of the monstrous crime that the Jackals had committed.
"I'll take as many as I can down to hell with me!" Beelzebub barked as all of the men agreed and started to check their guns before the door to the meeting room flew open.
"You called?" a deep voice rumbled as Monica turned her calculative gaze over to the doorway. Before she knew it she was already in the arms of the man that had arrived.
"Sin," she whispered shakily wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly as the biker buried his face in her black hair. It seemed like it had been ages since they had seen each other, in fact the last time that their paths had crossed it had been at her father's funeral.
The biker before her was one of the few men that she could trust with anything, no matter how bad things got she knew he would always be beside her.
"I am so sorry," Sin told her as he held her to him before she pulled away, her eyes failing to hide the deep pain and sorrow that her very soul felt.
"The cavalry has arrived," Beelzebub commented hugging Sin as well as both of them stood beside Monica when she turned towards her men once more, perhaps for the last time.
"This is how it's going to play out," she began as they all listened intently.
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
Monica drove up the Jackal's bar, her hands shaking with rage as she gripped the handles of her biker harder. Her knuckles turning white as she parked her bike and stepped off with ease, the bikers at the front door staring at her in amazement.
"Well, if it isn't Hyde," one of them laughed noticing that she was the only one there. The rest of the Bastards were nowhere in sight. "You should have brought your dogs to play, it seems you're the only one who's going to die tonight," he added before he pulled his hand back and swung at her face.
She welcomed the hit as her head snapped to the side, her broken nose oozing out blood as another punch landed on her stomach. She coughed and doubled over in pain before the pair of bikers took her by the arms and led her in to the bar leaving the entry unguarded.
Monica looked up with a smile on her lips before the door slammed shut, she dropped her expression and switched it over to one of immense pain as her body was dragged across the bar. Several men taking a swing at her as she winced and cried in pain, she would have her revenge soon enough.
"It's just like you said, Stryker," one of the men commented as they reached the back room, "she came by herself," he finalized hurling her into the room as she landed facedown and gave a pitiful whimper of pain.
"As expected, you let your anger get the better of you," Stryker murmured crouching down to remove her hair from her face to see the bruise that resided on her left cheek, he smiled at the blood that ran down her cut lip.
"Tell the rest of the men to relax, the Bastards won't be here until morning when they discover she's dead," Stryker ordered as one of the bikers left while the other stayed put near the door. "You can leave," he told the biker as the other man stared at his boss and then at the broken woman on the floor.
"Are you sure?" he asked as Stryker let loose a chuckle before standing.
"She's just a woman," he laughed, "what could she possibly do?"
The other biker nodded before closing the door behind him, Monica's eyes flew open upon hearing the click of the door. Her hand instantly wrapped around the knife in her pocket before she swung at Stryker's leg.
He cried out in pain before losing his balance and falling back. She picked herself up with difficulty before walking over to him as he held his leg in pain, his outraged expression meeting her disgusted one.
"That's all I ever was to you," she told him crouching next to him, "that's why my plan worked so well," she added as he stared at her in confusion. Monica twirled the knife in her hands before looking at him once more.
"As I speak my men are out there massacring your Jackals, just like you killed my men…without a warning," she added in rage kicking him as he grunted and held his stomach in pain. "You told them to relax, remember?" she commented as Stryker's eyes flew to her own.
"You bitch," he spat at her as she smiled back, "you knew I'd let my guard down when you showed up alone," he hissed reaching for her ankle as she stepped on his hand earning herself a cry from the biker beneath her.
"Now you'll know what it feels like to lose family and be betrayed," she told him as her words echoed in his mind. He realized he had written the same thing down just before he shot her child, the damn whore had tricked him and he was paying dearly for it now.
"This is for Voodoo," she told him applying pressure on his hand as his bones started to break. He howled in pain before she kicked him and he remained still. She wasn't enjoying what she was doing in the least but she knew she had to avenge her family for what he had done to them.
"This is for Joker," she whispered in anger as she crouched and placed the blade in his mouth. His eyes widened in fear as they stared at her own cold pair. He pleaded with her before she tugged harshly causing the blade to carve the left side of his face, the gash going upwards into a smile.
"For Luna," she growled breaking his other hand as he sobbed uncontrollably while blood gushed down his cheek, the pain from the broken bones intensifying his torture and pain as he regretted wronging the woman before him.
"For Micah," she choked as tears fell from her face as she plunged the knife into his knee causing his body to convulse beneath her. She didn't feel satisfaction upon seeing the man responsible for all of her misery suffer, the memory of what he had done however wouldn't leave her tormented mind.
"For Felix and Mercedes," she cried stabbing his chest as he screamed in agony. She twisted the blade and drove it further in before she left it there and stood before standing over him reaching for her revolver deciding to end it there, she couldn't bear to hear him scream one more time.
"This…this is for Kirimi," she told him calmly pulling back the hammer once more as she aimed and fired. He choked on his own blood as he felt the bulled pierce through his heart, the memory of the child he had killed swam through his mind.
He found it ironic, he had brought his own death upon him the moment he shot the small girl and left the note behind for her to read. He didn't regret any of it, however, once he saw the tormented look on Monica's face as she looked down at the blood on her hands.
His lips turned upwards into a smirk despite the burning sensation the cut was causing him before his head dropped back and he closed his eyes. Monica stared at him in shock, she had just killed Stryker.
She dropped her head into her hands and tried to shake off the guilt that settled over her before checking her revolver once more, there were no more bullets in it. She turned Stryker over and removed his jacket before standing once more. She hid the gun with her jacket as she walked out of the room with a grimace and pulled the door open.
Bullets whizzed by as she ducked behind the bar and pulled out her black handgun from the back of her belt. She fired blindly as she inched towards the door knowing her job was far from done, before she could reach it, however, Stryker's brother blocked her path. His blazing eyes eyeing the bloodied jacket in her hands.
"Raoul, move," she growled as a bullet narrowly missed her head. The biker in front of her refused as he pulled out his own knife and drove it into her stomach; she didn't stop him or try to dodge the swing merely because she knew she deserved it.
He yanked the knife out before a bullet hit his neck, Monica turned to look at Vlad who smirked upon hitting his target. She nodded back at him thankful for the help before she realized that every man in the bar was dead, except for one.
She stopped Beelzebub from killing him before she walked over the frightened prospect who sat in the far corner of the bar holding an unused gun close to his chest. She tilted her head at the man, she knew he had been on the verge of becoming a full Jackal, but he wasn't one just yet.
She thrust the jacket in her hands onto his chest as he looked down at it with wide eyes.
"You've been promoted," she told him hissing when she felt the wound on her stomach burn. Her hand covered the gash as she looked at the man in front of her. "If any of your men ever cross the line again, I will come back and finish what I started," she threatened before she stood with a grunt and walked towards the door.
She slipped through unnoticed due to all of her men cheering upon obtaining victory as she descended the stairs and stumbled over to her bike. The snow beneath her boots turning crimson as the blood from her stomach dripped down from her hand.
She bit her lip and turned the motorcycle on before heading over to the Opera Populair, she couldn't die yet. She had some things to finish before death took her, she couldn't afford to give up now.
She noticed the amount of people that exited the Opera Populair with pleased looks on their expressions talking of the superb musical they had just seen as Monica slipped through the crowd staining several women's animal pelts when she bumped into them.
She shook her head to get rid of her blurred vision as her breathing grew ragged. She managed to make her way to the stage where singers and ballet dancers were celebrating upon having a successful gala. A figure in white however called her attention as she moved forward and stopped in front of Lucy.
"Meet me on the roof, we have to talk," Monica growled over to the blond who was dressed as Christine in the white wedding dress. The diva stared at Monica amazed upon seeing her alive before she nodded, she too had a few things to settle with her 'friend'. Talking on the roof would ensure that the people around her knew nothing of what happened to Monica in case things went south.
Monica walked ahead ascending the stairs as her chest heaved trying to get more air into her lungs as she panted and continued forward, she shook her head trying to focus on the stairs.
"Come on, not yet," she whispered to herself pushing her body to its limits as she tossed open the door leading to the roof of the Opera House. She wished she would have picked another spot upon seeing the figure leaning up against one of the statues.
"Phantom?" she called with difficulty as the man in question turned to look at her. He had been preparing to scold her and lecture her over leaving like she had before his eyes landed on the blood covered hand that she held over her side.
Her clouded eyes locked with his horrified blue orbs as she walked over to him, "I'm sorry," she whispered reaching out to touch him before a voice caused her hand to freeze.
"Don't touch him, unless you'd both like to die tonight," Jack warned pointing his gun at the pair as Monica panted harder and leaned forward before regaining her balance. She turned to face the ex-biker as the snow grew to a dark shade of crimson beneath her.
The Phantom couldn't help but reach out for his muse, the mere sight of her like that caused his heart to ache deeply. A deep frown settled upon his face when he noted the blond who stepped forward from behind Jack. He restrained himself knowing that one wrong move could cost him losing her; he wouldn't be able to live with himself if she died because of him.
"Monica, you don't look too good," Lucy pointed out as Monica moved away from the Phantom; Jack's gun followed her just as she had planned as she looked briefly at the Opera Ghost hoping he would catch on.
"What do you want…Lucy," Monica murmured swaying in her spot as the blond turned to look at the Phantom.
"Him," she told the biker in front of her, Monica's brow furrowed in confusion.
The Phantom looked at the diva before him restraining a shudder at the mere thought of having her interested in him. The woman he cared about stood a few feet away from him, it took every fiber of his being to restrain his body from moving forward to where she was. She needed his help and he needed to comfort her, to hold her and tell her everything would be alright.
"I'll leave you to your life, all I want is for you to hand him over," Lucy told Monica with a cheer filled voice upon seeing the biker near death.
"He's not a trophy, Lucy," Monica breathed, "you can't demand me to give you the impossible," she added as Lucy's brow twitched with anger. Monica saw this and moved once more drawing Jack's attention back to her.
"I can't give you my reason for waking up every day, for breathing, for living," she added as Lucy's chest rose up and down quickly with anger upon witnessing the adoration in Monica's eyes as she spoke of her Opera Ghost.
Monica blinked trying to keep herself together before gasping slightly when her hand decreased the pressure on the wound. Jack caught a sight of the blood and frowned upon seeing the condition in which she was in, right now wasn't the time to be arguing, she should be in a hospital.
"Lucy-" Jack started before the other woman cut him off.
"No! He's mine! I will ask you one more time, leave and I will spare your life!" Lucy yelled her anger boiling over as Monica's lips tugged upwards into a smirk.
"Never," she whispered before Lucy lunged at her.
The Phantom taking advantage of the distraction as he too stepped forward and knocked the gun out of Jack's hold, both of them tumbling to the ground struggling for supremacy ignoring the women for a few moments.
Monica caught the blond as she rushed at her and slammed her face up against one of the windows of the roof before releasing the diva. Lucy hissed in pain before grabbing Monica and trying to do the same to her. Monica, however, twisted out of her grip and slammed her up against the window once more before raining down punches on the blond.
Lucy remained in place; she knew she would be beaten to death if she didn't do something. She settled on the only thing she knew how to do as she kneed Monica right were the cut from the knife was. The biker let go of her in pain before Lucy grabbed her with content upon knowing that her low blow had done its job.
She grabbed Monica by her jacket and rammed her up against one of the statues on the roof as the woman in her hold instantly cried out in pain. Lucy glanced down in between their bodies and noticed the large spike that protruded from Monica's stomach.
The blond glanced over the biker's shoulder with horror as she noticed she had just impaled her with one of the stone spikes that decorated the gargoyles before letting her go with a shocked expression on her face.
"Lucy…" Monica called to her weakly holding out a bloodied hand upon witnessing the frightened expression on her face. "It's not y-your fault, it w-was always mine," Monica choked as she pulled herself away from the gargoyle and tried to walk over to the woman in front of her.
"Jack?" Lucy cried unable to bear the sight of her only friend bleeding because of her.
What had she done?
Jealousy had gotten the best of her, she had killed anyone in her path, she realized her mistake now. She had murdered the person who had helped her all of the past years, the only one who had stood beside her when her family had left her on the streets.
Oh god…what had she done?
"Jack!" Lucy cried with horror as she covered her mouth with her hand, both men finally turning to look at her from their positions on the ground. The Phantom easing the pressure he had been applying on the boy's neck immediately upon seeing Monica reaching for them desperately.
"I'm so sorry," Lucy mumbled stepping back as the Opera Ghost rushed past her before Monica collapse in his arms. Jack stood beside Lucy unable to comprehend what had happened during the brief time he had been dueling with the infamous Phantom.
Monica stared back at the pair knowing that the Phantom would go for them, she pleaded with Jack silently as he stared back in fear. He understood and wrapped an arm around Lucy who by now was having a breakdown before leading her over the door that had been left open.
The sooner they left the more chances they had of surviving the wrath of the Opera Ghost.
After seeing them leave Monica turned her attention towards the man who held her in his arms. Her grieving eyes settled on his own tormented pair as his gloved hand tried to hold back the blood that oozed out of her.
"L-leave it be," she choked pushing his hand away as he turned his attention back to her. He couldn't believe this was happening, he was losing her.
"No…not like this," he begged holding her to him as she tried to smile at him, her body refused her command. She had been horrified of losing him ever since she had grown attached to him, now she realized that she would never have to go through the agony of him dying.
"I was stupid, my love," she told him before she closed her eyes coughed up blood. The Phantom felt his soul being shattered upon hearing the nerve-wracking coughs that came from the woman in his hold, the woman he loved.
"F-forgive me?" Monica asked weakly as he shook his head. The Phantom felt his hold on her tighten when she coughed once more holding on to his vest in pain.
"There is nothing to forgive, you will live through this," he told her as she opened her teary eyes and stared at him with sorrow. They both knew the truth; the crimson snow beneath them confirmed that. The Phantom glanced up at the statue that still held her blood on it before a hesitant hand on his cheek brought him back to her.
"Do not let hate consume y-you," she whispered as he shook his head at her. She couldn't give up, not yet.
This wasn't how it should have ended; his worst nightmare had come true. Fate had been unkind when it had allowed Christine to leave; now it was tearing out his heart by taking Monica away from him like this.
"Do not close your eyes, look at me," he pleaded as she struggled to remain there with him. He stared down at his sole reason for composing, for living again, and watched her life slip away from his hands.
"I-I love you, Erik," she told him as tears streamed down her cheeks. His whole body tensed upon hearing those words. He had hoped to hear them under different circumstances; he had hoped to say the same without the fear of ever having to part with her.
He was left speechless as her bloodied hand caressed the side of his mask before she pulled it back and dropped it on the ground next to her, the porcelain prop becoming stained with her blood as she used the last of her strength to pull herself up and meet his lips.
The Phantom remained frozen as he felt her soft lips against his, he couldn't stop himself from growling in both pleasure from finally having captured them with his own and in rage upon realizing that it would be the last time he would ever be able to do it.
The coppery taste of her blood filled his senses as he pulled her closer, she held on to his vest for dear life with one hand while the other remained on the side of his deformed face as she leaned in and worked her lips against his own feeling the pain from her wounds start to fade away. The pure lust and power from the Phantom's needing form clouded over the agony that her body was in.
The Phantom pulled away first when he felt her body tense, she looked at him one last time with nothing but pure love before her eyes closed and her hand dropped from his face. He stopped breathing for what seemed ages as he stared at her unmoving form before him.
His expression contorted into one of sorrow as he pulled her body closer and uttered a low cry. He buried his face in her neck as he sobbed quietly feeling everything within him wither and die. He could feel his heart ache and cry out for her, he knew his calls would never be answered.
He held her cold body to his, the warmth that she had always brought to him had been replaced with nothing but a deep and unnerving cold that proved she would never wake.
Her memory haunted his mind as he remembered her smile every time he offered to let her sit next to him on the organ late at night. He frowned realizing he had never let her stay with him enough, he could have done more. The sight of her dancing on the stage only for him surfaced in his mind, he had never praised her enough, told her how beautiful and graceful she looked when she moved.
Her hesitant touch seemed to ghost over his face reminding him of all of the times he had pulled away from her, he should have pulled her back to him and claimed her as his. He never should have allowed her to leave his side; she had always belonged with him.
The cheerful laughter she had let escape from her lips every time he amused her echoed through his head, he had never heard anything more angelic than her voice. He had never told her that either.
It had never been enough.
The Phantom realized that the times he had let his temper loose on her would probably haunt him until his dying day. His mind was suddenly filled with her cowering form as he thundered at her for the simplest of things.
He would never forgive himself for raising his voice at her when he should have been soothing her instead.
"Why," he choked brushing her hair back as his hand brushed over her freezing cheek. It wasn't fair that everyone got to stay with the one they loved while he had her torn away from him.
He glanced at her lip arm that remained still right where it had dropped before his eyes landed regretfully on her ring finger.
He had even planned to marry the woman in his arms, to keep her by his side through the good times and bad. He shook those thoughts away; his heart couldn't possibly bear to think of her in that manner. He couldn't marry an unmoving body, a still heart.
A hesitant hand on his shoulder brought his crashing back down to earth as he snapped his head to the side to look at the owner of the offending hand.
"You…" he growled warningly pulling Monica's body to his chest and holding her protectively as he stared at the old gypsy before him. He knew he would see her again but he hadn't been expecting her to appear now.
"I am sorry for your loss, Erik," the old woman told him before she paused, "it had to be done," she added as he turned his head to her warningly once more.
"You knew this would happen?" he asked his voice breaking as the gypsy nodded. "The fact that I have lived for so long because of you, I could forgive," he told her as he caressed Monica's cheek. "Taking her from me, however…is unforgivable," he growled at the woman who had moved in front of him and was already looking at the dead body in his arms.
It was true that it was her doing that made him live longer than any human possibly could, ever since the day he had murdered her husband at the carnival she had sworn that she would find him again and curse him. A gypsy's power was often underestimated but when they were wronged they always had the last laugh.
The day had finally come when he had been running from the law after the Opera House burnt down. She had seen him out in the streets at night; could she ever forget his face? She had cursed the man before her, cursed him to live a life of solitude.
The rage behind her act had made her cry for revenge successful, he had remained the same for more than one hundred years, but he had never once been approached by a woman.
Until now.
"Now you know what it feels like to lose someone you love dearly, my child," the old woman told him as the Phantom shook with rage.
"She had nothing to do with this," he told her refusing to let her see Monica as the woman continued to circle him like a vulture. She could see that the dead body in his arms had meant something to him; she felt pity for him but not enough to relieve him of his torture.
"You brought this upon yourself," she told him as the Phantom dropped his head and realized that what the woman had said was true. Everything that had happened was his doing; he shouldn't have allowed her to stay with him at all. How could he not see that before? He could have saved her if only he would have been able to push her away.
"Leave me," he told her as the old gypsy stared at the man before her, something had changed about him. Had she appeared any other time he wouldn't have hesitated to kill her, something had changed him. The Phantom eased his hold on Monica as the old woman finally got a good view of her face.
"My, she was certainly a pretty one," the gypsy whispered regretting having to stand by and let the woman die out of pure revenge. She would have fit in perfectly with the carnival that she owned and traveled with around the world.
With that thought she turned and left the Opera Ghost to do his grieving, his broken figure hunched over the body of the woman he had once loved.
"What was her name, Erik?" the gypsy asked an idea coming to mind as the Phantom paused and thought. Why would she want to know her name? He saw no harm in telling her, after all, what could she possibly conjure up to hurt him now that his muse was dead.
"Monica…her name was Monica," he replied as the gypsy nodded before leaving him.
The Phantom stared down at her body, grimacing when he noticed all of the blood she had lost in that brief period of time. In that brief moment he wished he had never met her, if he had known he would have shunned her to save her life.
He wished she had never been down to his lair, that she had never seen his true face.
He cursed the pair that had managed to escape from his grasp, he would have their heads on a silver platter even it if killed him. Their scheming had resulted in her death, which would not go unpunished.
He pushed the thoughts for revenge aside and glanced down at her once more before running his hand over her cold lips.
He wished she had never heard his music; he should have kept her away, hidden from the world. His heart shattered upon realizing that his music had ultimately led her to stay with him, he had killed her with his greatest talent.
He wished the world was deaf.
He wished no one would listen.
Review! A friend mentioned I should make another chapter after this one and it makes sense now that I realize that the Phantom dosent really get his revenge. She also mentioned the possibility for a sequel which I am also doubtful on, let me know what you guys think so far!