THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO MY TWO LOYAL FANS WHO GIVE ME THE INSPIRATION TO WRITE WITH EACH OF THEIR BRILLIANT COMMENTS

Random phangurl AND Neverland Child

AND MY NEWEST REVEIWER: ChristineloverGerard2

YOU ALL ROCK, I WTOTE THIS SUPER QUICKLY FOR YOU GUYS

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT

I RECENTLY FOUND OUT THAT THE PHANTOMS REAL NAME IS ERIK, SO I WILL REFERRE TO HIM AS SUCH SINCE IT IS EASIER TO CALL HIM THAT THAN 'THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA' DID THIS OR DID THAT

I DONT OWN PHANTOM OF THE OPERA, IF I DID THE PHANTOM WOULD HAVE FALLEN IN LOVE WITH A LESS SUPERFICIAL GIRL WHO DIDDNT GET ALL SCARED THE MOMENT THINGS GOT TOUGH AND STUCK IT OUT...LIKE MY ELIZABETH

BY THE WAY, IM CONTEMPLATING GOING BACK AND CHANGING HER NAME, WHAT DO YOU THINK?

SOMETHING LIKE ISABELLE? OR AMELIA?

CHAPTER THREE

She was going to die, that much was easy enough to understand

Elizabeth shut her eyes as she felt the rope-loop close around her neck. The force of the rope knocked her bonnet clean off her head and took the pin that was holding her hair up with it. Her hair fell around her shoulders, further obscuring her view.

She felt it tighten even more, like someone was playing with her life. She never should have done this, nothing good ever happened for the eldest daughter, perhaps it was a good thing she was about to die.

She couldn't understand what was going on, everything was getting blurry, she couldn't breathe, but the sensation wasn't unfamiliar to her.

She was going to die, but somehow she didn't feel angry or sad. Perhaps because Elizabeth had imagined what it would be like to die so often before that this felt like another one of her dreams.

She always imagined what her death would be like; she never contemplated actually carrying out any of these supposed suicides. Heavens no!

But when one is unappreciated, overlooked, lonely and unhappy, one starts to wonder what it would be like if that one were dead, or if she never existed at all.

Or at least on Elizabeth's part.

No one knew of her fantasies, oh how mortifying of someone should find out. Although it would have been humorous to see her mother's face.

Elizabeth tried to chuckle, but found it difficult with a rope around her neck.

Honestly, she was about to die and she was still thinking.

Although, it wasn't a bad way to die. Not the way she imagined it, being strangles to death in an abandoned opera house, but at least she had experienced something so wonderful before it all.

She tightened her eyes and smiled as she thought of the amazing feeling she had when she sang.

It was as if, Elizabeth had been living before, in a world with no colour. But when she sang, everything came to life for one delicious moment. For one moment, she felt truly alive and no one could take that feeling from her.

If she was to die, she would die with dignity.

So she went limp and concentrated on her breathing.

But then suddenly, the rope itself went limp and she found she could breathe.

Because of the sudden rush of oxygen, Elizabeth collapsed to her feet and gasped as the world went black for a moment. When her vision cleared she found herself looking at a pair of black shoes. She followed the shoes up and blinked in utter surprise.

It was a man, wearing a black suit and a cape; he had dark black/brown hair slicked back in an appealing manner. But what caught her eye most was the fact that half his face was covered with a white mask. And the side of his face that wasn't covered with the mask was so beautiful it was almost sinful. Strong lips, defined cheek bones and beautiful brown eyes. Her heart pounded.

And he was holding the rope lasso, signalling him as the one who tried to kill her.

He looked down at her with a confused but interested expression, something crossed between disgust and intrigue.

"Y-you aren't going to kill me?" she gasped.

At first he didn't say anything but then "Don't flatter yourself Madam. Go, get out of here, and tell no one what you've seen or I will kill you." His voice was low, deep and smooth, like singer's voice. It melted in the air, the kind of voice that would make the noble ladies swoon.

Elizabeth tried to get up, but her legs were still receiving oxygen, so she stalled for time "I just wanted to know who was playing the organ before, it was so beautiful"

She saw something twitch in his eye for a moment, and realised it was none other than himself who had played the organ.

Suddenly he snarled "I SAID GET OUT!"

Elizabeth snapped to her feet and ran out the way she came, she didn't stop to look back once, not until she was safely in her carriage on the way home. She ran a hand though her hair and realised with little amusement...that she had left her bonnet behind.

Wont mother be pleased?

Erik stared at the place where the girl had been a moment ago when she had been dying; he tightened the rope and let it fall to the ground.

Why hadn't he killed her?

He never hesitated before.

Ever since Madam Giry had helped him leave France and brought him to England, he had been living between two opera houses. He stayed at one as its resident Phantom, continuing his work in making the theatre perfect, and when he wanted privacy on a new level he came here.

This opera house looked so similar to the one in France that it brought back so many memories, which was why he came, he liked composing here.

Before leaving France, he had managed to rescue some pages of his opera, Don Juan, that weren't completely destroyed by the fire, out of sentimental value.

He had been playing here for the same reason, when a sound ebbed though the room. Not wanting to be seen he retreated, purely out of habit.

Then a woman came wandering in from one of the tunnels, from her blue, high quality dress he could tell she was a nobleman's daughter or wife. So what the hell was she doing here?

He had watched from the shadows as she looked aimlessly around the room, and then she spotted the organ and approached it, calling out for someone to answer her. He remained silent.

When she found his music score, he watched as her eyes skimmed it slowly. The girl knew how to read music, that much was clear.

Then she began to hum it and after a few seconds her humming turned into singing.

Erik had been surprised for a moment by her voice. It was pleasant sounding and held talent. She was definitely a noble girl, and yet she was singing it perfectly in pitch if not a little quiet. He couldn't help but encourage her to sing louder.

Her voice was pleasant to listen to, she had promise as an opera singer should she take into serious teaching. But it lacked something; it lacked the passion the song required. The song was about a passion so compelling, it could be compared to fire. But he couldn't expect a noblewoman to understand such things.

Listening to someone singing his song brought back memories of the last time he had heard someone singing it. His beloved Christine, her voice took over the song, made it her own. The voice he had cultivated and nurtured from the very beginning.

Then the realisation that someone was singing Christine's song hit him.

He wrote that for Christine and Christine alone, no one else was permitted to sing that song, it wasn't hers to sing. He was overcome with rage at the woman who had the audacity to sing Christine's song.

Memories of how he held her before she betrayed him, how she had looked at him as if he were desirable flashed though his mind, they were both painful and wonderful memories. Because all though she had betrayed him by taking off his mask, for those few moments that they sang together on stage, he could pretend that she returned his love for her.

And now this person was forcing him to relive such memories.

Erik had then grabbed a curtain rope and twisted it into loop.

It hadn't been difficult getting it around her neck; she was so defenceless, so easy.

The force knocked that ridiculous contraption English ladies insisted on wearing off her head to reveal long ebony hair that fell past her waist. Her eyes shut too quickly to see their colour.

She was choking.

She was dying.

But then she smiled, and a peaceful, happy expression filled her face as he body went limp and she seemed to accept her fate, acknowledging her own death.

But why was she smiling?

And without thinking he found himself loosening the rope and watching her fall to the ground as oxygen returned to her.

Her dark black hair was like ink, pooling around her as she gasped. And she looked up at him, her eyes a brilliant blue. As her gaze went to his face, Erik felt that uncomfortable feeling he got whenever someone looked at his face, but even more so with this girl. For some reason, it felt like her icy blue eyes could see right through the mask, but that was impossible.

She asked if he was going to kill her. Erik had relied with whatever first came to mind when truth be told, he didn't know himself the answer.

In the end, he let her go.

Only a warning was issued as she ran off.

Even now he was still standing there in deep thought.

Why had he not killed her?

When he thought about it, it seemed a shame to simply kill such talent like that. She voice was certainly not Christine's. But that girl had had talent. Her voice was pleasant to listen to and had an appealing quality to it that would make people want to listen. And she had a marvellous sense of pitch and natural libretto when he was sure she knew not what it was. She certainly held much promise. She was, in a way, like a diamond in the rough. Waiting to be shaped into something more beautiful.

It seemed a waste to just end it all before it could begin.

Elizabeth sat at her love seat with the window open and a cup of lemon tea that the servants had smuggles in. Her room over looked the garden and so whenever she needed to think she would always come here.

She sipped on the tea, her mouth puckering a little at the lemon flavour. She preferred Mint on such a warm day, but they were out of mint. It was also Verity's favourite.

Thinking of her sister reminded them of the ball coming up. Verity had been invited to play for the Malory's ball, the Aria from the opera, the magic flute. The ball was coming up in some times next year as it was an annual ball, but her mother always liked to get invitations as early as possible because they usually requested her daughters performance an she liked to prepare them.

Of course no one paid any attention to Elizabeth, short of inviting her, for she was of no interest to anyone being of very little talent.

Elizabeth sighed; it seemed as if her world had returned to being grey and colourless.

Until she thought of singing and a rich, warm feeling rushed though her. At first Elizabeth did not know what such an emotion was, until she realised that it was only because she had not experienced it for some time. True happiness and real contentment.

Her voice had sounded so rich and light even to her ears, Elizabeth had not know her voice could sound like that, and it was all thanks to the opera score because she was certain it wasn't her. There was no way a girl like her could sing like that on her own, even La Carlotta had said so before.

So it had to be the music score.

Elizabeth shivered at the thought and the memories.

Never in her life...no, the last time she had felt that happy, had been when Charlotte had been born. And although it was sad to say, this probably felt better then that time, because it was personal to her.

She had to do it again

No matter what

HOW WAS THAT? WAS ERIK IN CHARATER? I HOPE SO

PLEASE REVEIW