Chapter Four: Her Repetitive Question

Author's Note: This chapter is in the point of view of the Phantom (a.k.a. Erik.) Just to clear up any confusion. (:

I hugged my body tightly, the chill of the cave finally getting to me. It had been only a few days since she was in this very room. The ray of light in my life left when she did, arm in arm with that boy. How could she abandon her angel, the one who gave her a voice? Once I had thought that she would be my chance for a happily ever after, but it seemed even that was gone. Was I doomed to go forever without knowing love?

Slowly I stood up, still holding the last rose I had given her. A voice in the back of my mind told me that if I went on like this, it would surely be my downfall. No, it would not. As long as I had my music, I was still the Phantom of the Opera. No one, not even Christine, could take that from me.

Maybe if I distracted myself for awhile I would forget the pain. Placing the porcelain half-mask on my deformity, I left the cave. After all, this was my opera house. I could not wallow in sadness and let the Populaire go to ruin. This was, and always would be, my home and my sanctuary. The depths of the caverns could serve as my shelter for years to come.

Trying to focus on the running of the Populaire, I crawled into the shadows. For awhile I wandered around, watching the workers clean up the mess from the chandelier. It was not very interesting; they acted as if nothing had happened. I continued surveying until I caught sight of Richard, one of the daft managers that ran my opera. For a moment I considered moving on, until a stranger forced her way through the opera doors.

She appeared as nothing but a commoner, but she held herself confidently. My acute hearing picked up some of their conversation. So, the proud little girl wanted to live in the opera house? My mind started to wander as Richard questioned her about her talents. Could she be the next great star, if I trained her voice? No, I would not let my mind wander there. That would mean going through the past again, except with this raven-haired child in place of my perfect Christine. Everything would be the same: the singing lessons, the rejection…the heartache.

It was a surprise and a relief to hear her admit that she could not sing. When I saw a broom thrust into her hands, I thought that the position fit her. It was easy to picture this girl as a maid. As soon as the older woman walked off with the overly confident one, I wondered why I had wasted my time watching her. Her proud manner might stand out among the maids, but I had no business giving my valuable attention to a mere maid.

Again I turned, staying hidden in the shadows. It seemed to me that the opera had gotten much duller since she did not sing anymore. Damn, why did my thoughts always wander back to Christine? I dug my nails into my scalp as if I was trying to dig out all the memories of my angel. Grimacing, I decided that I needed to try my best to forget.

Not knowing what else to do, I crept back to my box. The girl was chatting with the old maid as they swept away the rubble. Though she had made quite the entrance, it seemed that my evaluation of her had been wrong. She was just as uneventful as the rest of the cleaning crew, or so it seemed.

Coincidentally she scooted closer to my box, speaking quite loudly. "Say, Charlotte, do you know any more about that Opera Ghost?" Her question shocked me. Why would she be asking about me? It was unlikely that her companion knew anything, but it was wise to listen in. You never know what you could find out.

Charlotte hesitated for a moment. "Well, I heard he's up in Box Five…that he stayed even after the chandelier fell. Not sure what else. There are people that know more about the ghost than I do."

I ducked into the shadows as one of them turned to look at Box Five. The chances of her seeing me were almost unlikely, but there was no reason the risk it.

"Who else would know?" She turned her back to the box.

As soon as Charlotte told her to 'ask around', the strange girl came up with an uncreative excuse. What in the world was she doing? I left the box, quickly following her from above as she slinked across the auditorium floor. Her head was held high as she slid into position next to another maid.

Only one part of their brief conversation interested me. The girl asked this stranger about me as well. I was glad to note that she seemed disappointed with the answer she received. However, this did not seem to stop her. As if following a pattern, she moved across the room. Her actions alone gave the impression of her being crazy, but the question she asked each person made me suspicious of her.

"Do you know anything about the Phantom?" Normally I would have disregarded her existence, but I wondered why she was so curious about me, of all people. Was she some type of undercover policeman, here to capture me? I'm sure there was some type bounty on my head. Though I thought I was free from my obsession from Christine, the fact that I murdered people still remained.

Her curiosity only heightened as the days progressed. Though I did not hold her in high regard, I had to admit that she had courage. She walked up to Richard, blasting her repetitive question in his face. If I was not wary of her intentions, I might have laughed at her foolishness.

Wariness soon turned to anger and annoyance. Jesabelle, as I found out, was slowly digging her own grave. How dare she try to disturb my solitude? She was clearly trying to find something, whether it be my location or otherwise. Sometimes she would come up to my box, touching the velvet chairs softly. It soon became a daily routine for her.

I grew to loathe her, as she was trespassing on my past. Precious memories of my box were ruined by her presence. Yes, I had to stop her investigation, no matter the risk involved. My privacy was one of the things I treasured most, next to my music and Christine.

Jesabelle's constant search for gossip would come to an end very soon. Of that I was positive. No, it was not time to step in yet. For now I would stay in the shadows, watching to make sure that she did not make any progress in her futile mission.

Author's Note: And so ends Erik's point of view…for now, that is. I'm hoping to have more chapters with his point of view in the future. I'm nervous that I made him too out of character…I hope he's not /that/ OOC. First attempt at Erik's POV, so don't shoot me. x]

I'd like to thank the readers for nearly 100 hits on this story. (: I certainly wasn't expecting that many hits so quickly. Also, thank you to the reviewers, and the person who added my story to their faves list.

Important: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters. I still own just the characters of Jesabelle and Charlotte.

xoxo,

Jezebel Denver