Ahhh...yes yes yes. Just so you know, I ignored some dates to help this along.

Lorna awoke to no sounds. None. The silence seemed to completely consume her in it's darkness.

When she was able to sit up and look at her surroundings, she realized she was not home in the guest bedroom of her brother's house. Instead, she was lying on a grandeur swan bed, covered in soft, red, silk sheets that were also used as a cover for her. The rest of the room was dark, but she could tell it was messy and disastrous.

She scooched to the end of the bed, and placed her feet on the ground, realizing that she was not in the same dress as last night, but instead in white sleepwear.

Someone's changed my clothes? She thought, gaining more awareness of the awake world, lightly worried of the happenings of the night before. Her dress lay on a chair near the wall. Not wanting to be in unfamiliar clothes any longer, she quickly whipped back on her dress.

She tried to remember the events of yesterday: Morning, learning of the Phantom, the Lillianna epidemic, nothing important, the Opera, a voice, and then her capture. Grasping at the predicament she was now in, she could barely stand. Her eye was big and frightened at what lay through the door-closed doorway, leading to her imprisoner. She thought of many possibilities of what they could be: A beast, a madman, or a secretive miscreant. But what she thought of that certainly frightened her the most was the last thought, for that was all previous combined.

The Phantom of the Opera.

At that, she clutched her head and stumbled, knocking down a chair before she crashed back onto the bed. She just sat there for a few moments, reeling in thought. Footsteps resounding outside of the room shocked her from her meditation. Three knocks came before the door was opened, allowing Lorna to finally see her captor. He was dressed in a well tailored suit and bowed like a gentlemen would to a lady he was interested in, and when straightening his back, he gave Lorna a good full look at the opaque whiteness of the half-face covering mask.

"The Opera Ghost, at your service Mademoiselle."

Erik couldn't stop staring at the scars that covered Lorna's face. It was more than fascinating that such calamity could plague a face as beautiful as hers. She was a beauty with side of anguish and scourge. He just couldn't take his eyes off her.

Lorna was precisely perturbed, or, in other words, absolutely terrified. The Phantom was standing directly in front of her, staring openly at her burns. Her mind was in a state of 'not working', so she could come up with no reason to why he seemed so entranced or why anything was going on at all. All she could do was shift uncomfortably at his gaze.

Erik stabled himself and strode over to the young woman occupying the bed. He lifted her right hand to his lips.

"May I ask for your name, Mademoiselle?" He spoke gently, containing a laugh as she squirmed under his eyes. She looked back and forth between the floor, the hand her captor refused to release, and his cat-like, ocean colored eyes. Finally realizing that he had asked her a question she mumbled out incoherent words. He raised an eyebrow at her and, after coughing uneasily, she repeated herself louder.

"Lorna...Belndia." She whispered, refusing to meet his gaze and instead stared at her confined hand.

"Lorna, a very pretty name. Referring to the laurel tree, symbolic of honor and victory, and any relation to Lorna Doone?" He questioned, releasing his grasp of her hand. If he was to be sharing his home with this woman, then he might as well find out as much as he could of her.

"My mother had loved the book, Lorna Doone, but I was not named after the heroine, it was just an added bonus." She said this with a nervous smile, but she still glimpsed apprehensively at him.

"And of your surname? It sounds a little Latin." He stated. He slightly frowned at her mousey movements.

No mind, do not worry. She will warm up to you, Erik, he thought, calming himself.

"It is a mix of the Latin words 'bellus' and 'dea', meaning beautiful and goddess. My brother has a specific distaste to the meaning." She said. She was beginning to get a little frantic. She should not be relaying all this information to a stranger, especially one that is an infamous madman, but she was afraid of what he would if she did not.

"Ah, yes. I understand his dislike. A very fitting surname for a lady, such as yourself, but not for a man." Erik said, completely amused while watching her battle herself from giggling. She calmed, and wondered up at him under long, dark eyelashes. He watched back, contemplating what she would look like without the patch concealing her eye. He cautiously sat next to her on the swan bed, never breaking eye contact, brushing the hair from the right side out of her face and behind her ear. She whipped her head away and put a hand to cover her plague. Erik took her chin in her hand to make her look at him, and, with much resistance on her part, was able to pry away her hand from her face.

"Ma cherie, do not hide your face from me", he spoke, cupping her scarred cheek and slowly sliding his hand upward, "You have no reason to hide from a beast such as myself." She was saddened at his words.

"But I am one too, Monsieur. A monster. First the nightmares of my childhood, and then my niece. You should see how much I deserve to hide in darkness...like yourself, no offence Monsieur", she spoke almost remorsefully. He was surprised to say the least.

"How can you say that? How could you compare to myself when you're a beauty none the less!", Erik said, a sliver of anger wedged into his ocean eyes. To gain back his composure, her ran a thumb over the center of her eye patch. To his delight, she shivered in either fear or pleasure, he could not tell. He had too much courage, and so flipped off the black, eye cover of his captive. Not expecting much less, Lorna screamed bloody murder, covering her face. But what did surprise him was the likeness of how she acted to himself.

She continued letting out short screams of anguish and hatred. She growled with a ferocity much known to Erik.

"How could you?!" She spat at him, standing to look down at him. "I give you an ounce of my trust, and look what you do! You rip off my one confident! How would you like if I tore off your mask to gaze in fear at the great abnormality underneath!" She screamed in mock fear.

Somehow, Erik was able to stay relatively calm during her episode. He was examining her to see what she was like. So far, he's discovered that she seems to have another personality. The original seemed kind, regretful, genuine. And this side seemed to scream at him that she was almost, if nearly, feral.

"Now, Lorna-"

"Do not speak to me! I am not finished with you yet!" She wailed at him, continuing on in her ranting.

"Lorna, you must stop this-"

"I said do NOT speak to me!"

"Lorna! Stop, or I will force you to!" He roared. She instantly quieted and seemed to shrink at his outburst. His eyes, burning with outrage, stared her into the ground, causing her to fall to the floor in a sob, burying her face in her hands with cries of anger and sadness.

Finding that during the argument he had stood up, he sat back down and arched back, staring at the ceiling. Oh how the two looked. One broken in sobs and the other wallowing in self-reproach.

"Lorna.."

The said woman barely looked at the speaker.

"Please...do not hate me."

Well this one was interesting. I kind of wanted to go about this differently, but I went along with the flow and this is what came out. And thanks for any new favs and reviews, I love them, they make me feel special...I like feeling special. Anyways. The next chappy should be coming soon, so do not fret dear readers.

Ta ta for now.