((Five Days Later))
Abel paced the floor nervously. He had told Richard he would find the girl, and he truly wished to, but he had no way of getting into the lair.
Monsieur Andre burst into the Opera, coming to Abel. "Have you found her?" he asked, out of breath. Abel shook his head, and Andre began to wring his hands nervously. "Can't you break through the floor?"
Abel's eyes lit up. "Permission, sir?"
Andre nodded. "Anything. We have already lost too much to this 'Phantom.'"
Sarah sat quietly in her dungeon, heaving with dry sobs. Jeg har brug for at stoppe med at græde. Det vil gøre noget godt, hvis jeg dør af dehydrering. She thought to herself, curling into a ball.
Erik paced angrily in his lair. He had trusted her! Now there were constables trampling upstairs, searching for a way into his lair. He had blocked the way Madame Giry and the Vicomte had taken before, and they weren't getting through the mirror, but it was only so long before…
He frowned as a trickle of dirt fell onto his organ.
He looked up, and his eyes widened as a crack appeared in his 'ceiling.' He grabbed his organ music and raced towards Sarah's cell, throwing open the door.
"Go!" he yelled at her.
Sarah did not move.
"They're breaking through the ceiling, go!" He yelled at her again.
Sarah still did not move, and did not acknowledge his presence. He grabbed her wrist, as though to pull her along, but it hung limply in his disfigured hand.
He gasped.
Surely he had killed her.
He held her wrist, and sighed as he found a pulse; a weak but steady pulse.
He needed to get water into her. He judged the breaking of the ceiling would take several hours. He had time.
Erik fetched a jug of water, then moistened a cloth so that it dripped a bead of water steadily.
He reached for black gauze, removing it from her head…
He gasped.
She was disfigured too.
A long jagged scar ran from her eyebrow to her jaw, passing through an unseeing eye. Several smaller scars crossed her nose and cheeks. One scar had obviously healed wrong, resulting in a twisted upper lip. Subconsciously he traced the largest scar. Someone had done this to her, a sweet innocent child. Then he starved and imprisoned her!
He carefully opened her mouth, letting the water drip in. Every so often he would gently massage her throat so the water would be swallowed.
He had almost killed her.
The words stung like the whips he used to bear, like spikes tearing at his torso.
He had almost killed the Costume Mistress.
He continued the act for almost an hour, until she had drank the entire pitcher. He heard a board clattering to the floor. He needed to hurry.
Wrapping his cloak about him, he escaped deeper into the catacombs, leaving the still unconscious Sarah behind. But in his hands he tightly held something to remember her by; the veil.
Abel grinned as the hole became large enough for the men to drop through.
One by one the men climbed down the rope, each holding a pistol in case they met the man.
One of the men, McPike, called out loudly. "Monsieur Abel, I've found her!"
Abel took the girl in his arm, gasping at the scars. He climbed back up the ladder carefully, with help from McPike. He called to Richard, who came running.
"She's been down there without food or water for days, so she'll have to see a Doctor." Abel advised, looking down at the unconscious child.
Richard nodded, tears running down his face.
When Sarah awoke from her dehydrated coma, she felt her face for the veil. "Where is it?" she called hoarsely.
The Doctor's wife entered. "You stop that yelling. You're dehydrated and yelling won't help."
Sarah lay back down, hearing a soft clink of metal on metal. She felt something around her neck. It was a locket. She opened it, and a small piece of parchment fell out.
Sarah
I took your veil. I must go into hiding now, and I am sorry for all.
Erik
((ONE WEEK LATER))
Sarah sat with Emily the maid in Monsieur Andre's house. It was admittedly a bit awkward accepting Monsieur Andre's offer to allow them to stay, but Sarah and Richard both eagerly accepted. In return, they worked along with Emily.
Today was the first day she was to work, and she was now on her lunch break. Everything was going fine until Emily brought up the Phantom.
Emily looked eagerly at Sarah. "Did you ever see his face?" she asked, her voice almost at a whisper.
Sarah shook her head. "No." the new grey veil made a slight rustling noise.
Emily grinned. "Because I hear he's got the face of a devil!"
"What do you mean by that?" Sarah asked nonchalantly, (or at least in tones of what she hoped was) hands in her lap. Emily had not been told of her deformity, instead being told it was a tradition in her family.
"He hasn't got a nose, and his jaw bones… you can see them! Part of his lip's missing too!"
Sarah gasped, but not from horror, as Emily suspected.
Did he have pity on me because of that?
Meanwhile, far away, Erik held her veil.
If she learns, will she have pity on me?
Author's Note
TRANSLATIONS:
1(Danish) I need to stop crying. It will do no good if I die of dehydration.
It's the end! Please review, and send the last of your oreos.
I send special thanks to everyone that reviewed; namely Savannah White, RedDeathLVR, Spirit of the Opera and Rebecca (Guest).
I enjoyed writing this story, and feel free to check out my others.
-ATLK