Disclaimer: Years ago I left this story unfinished… but it has started to write itself back into my heart again. Erik won't let me go. Neither will the other characters in this story. For those of you that complain over my spelling or grammar I want to point out to you that neither English nor French is my native language so please have patience with me. And if you like this story or have liked it in the past and want to read more, please write a comment. They keep me going!

~Chapter eleven~

Erik was upset with himself and with Christine. She shouldn't have touched the bag in the first place. If she hadn't touched it he wouldn't have lost his temper. And if she hadn't touched it he wouldn't have been reminded of what a terrible person his own mother was. He hated his mother with a passion. She had never loved him because he was a constant reminder of her own miserable life. She was a whore, a prostitute and Erik knew she had no idea who Eriks real father was. She once claimed he was a mason, but in reality the men had been too many to keep track. Erik was born in a small village named Lyons-la-Forêt, outside of the town Rouen. His real name was Acel, but the name meant ´nobility´and he had never felt nobel in his entire life, nor would he ever, so he had changed his name to Erik.

Erik was a good name. Erik meant "alone, always" and "great, powerful king" all at the same time. He thought the name Erik was fitting to his character and his sense of humor. He had not used his birthname Acel since his mother died, and he never would again.

After his mothers death he had been travelling a lot. He didn't have a home. He had never felt like he had a home. It wasn't until he helped to build the opera house he decided it was time for him to settle down. He had always had a love for music and what better place to build a house than underneath an opera house? He thought the music could heal his soul, but so far the darkness within him was too great. Maybe it would never fade away?

One day he had found some gunpowder from when the Paris Commune used the opera house as a shelter and storage, and even though it was old it had given him a great idea. He would also store gunpowder under the opera house and maybe one day he would make them all hop like a grasshopper! That hadn't happened though because Christine had turned the scorpion instead. Christine… so naughty and so nosy! She should learn how to leave his things alone!

He walked up to and opened a secret closet with a full collection of different masks in it. These masks she hadn't been able to burn, that nosy Swedish girl. These masks were all hidden from her. He had several commedia dell arte masks and old venetian ones and others he had made himself. He put a grin on his face when he got out one he had made himself. It was a special mask, he had only used it on very special occasions. On one side it was a sad, crying Poirot mask, with pieces of small diamondshaped mirrors around it. It looked so pityful it could make you cry. But on the other side it had a terrible horned red devils mask. He had to teach Christine a lesson he thought… so he took the red devil mask and put it on.

Back in the room where he had left her Christine had managed to dry her tears but were still trying to organise the notes when she heard a terrible noise behind her. She quickly turned and saw Erik standing there with a pitchfork in his hand and the most terrible mask she had ever she wasn't prepared for. He didn't look like his usual death self, he didn't even look like the Red death. He looked like the devil himself!

"Erik!" He growled and was walking slowly towards her, scaring her. "Erik don't do that, take off that mask, didn't I burn them all? Erik stop that you're scaring me!"

"There is no Erik here madame… only the Beast, Satan, Prince of darkness… or the devil as you might know him…" he said and raised the pitchfork, aiming for her head.

"Erik what is wrong with you! I'm sorry about your mother, I truly am!" he cut her short replying
"I have no mother… so there's nothing to be sorry about. I am a demon…" He kept on coming closer and now she was really afraid because she could see his yellow eyes burning in the sockets behind the mask.

Christine backed up until she hit the bookshelf behind her and could feel the books sticking into her back and she had nowhere else to go.
"Erik I know I hurt your feelings but you mustn't do this, you mustn't scare me like this! Erik!"