Arabelle no longer had a sense of time anymore. A month quickly passed by her. That was how long it had been since she'd seen or heard from Erik. But was far from how long it had been since she last thought about him. Arabelle could never go more than a minute without thinking about the last time they had spoken, when she had invoked a fight in an attempt to push him away, to protect him. It seemed to have worked; she hadn't seen or heard a thing from him. But instead of comforting her, this made her worry more.

But when she wasn't thinking about Erik, she was thinking about how disgusted she was with herself, and how much longer she would last doing this. Right now she figured three more "customers", if she didn't drink. But recently, Arabelle had taken up a new habit to help her through each night. She would puke before she went, drink hard while she was there, space out during it, puke again on the way home, and then bathe for two hours. This all seemed very successful, until she was alone with herself. Arabelle could tell that she was sinking lower and lower into depression; that after each "job", she felt a little more numb. By the end of the month, she had little feeling left.

Madame Cornette seemed to be enjoying Arabelle's misery. So much so, that each week she gave Arabelle more clients. Arabelle could feel Madame Cornett trying to break her; trying to turn her into a true whore. And she was doing it; Arabelle felt almost nothing at all anymore. She couldn't even find a good enough reason to get out of bed each morning. But she had to, tonight she had a new client. And Madame had left her specific instructions and detailing of what the client was like and liked. Arabelle could tell, just by reading it, the man was very dominant and wasn't going to be the least bit gentle. It would be his way or the highway.

As she was dressing that night, Arabelle couldn't help but notice she hadn't vomited this time. Which was weird for her. Maybe Madame Cornette had finally broken me after all... she thought to herself. Walking down the street towards her client's dwellings, Arabelle couldn't help but feel extremely nervous, more than usual. She didn't like clients who think that because they're getting paid, they can order courtesans around and make them do whatever they wanted, especially when they get violent.

Arriving ten minutes early, as instructed, Arabelle noticed how thick the doors were, how tightly closed the curtains were on the windows, and that the fence gate had a lock on it. All these obeservations just made her stomach jump and twist even more. This place felt and looked more like a prision then it did a house. She wrapped lightly on the door three times, but before she could finish the third, the door swung open.

A very tall, very built, very broad shouldered man stood before her. His hair was slicked back, his face was clean shaven, and his suit was expensive. But the worst part was his gaze; it was cold, shallow, angry, and scary. His eyes narrowed a little as he looked me up and down.

"Are you Ariel, from the Scarlet Palace?" His voice was slimy and vain. She could already tell that he liked the sound of himself when he spoke.

"Oui, Monsieur-"

"Do not in good heavens, say my name! You will refer to me as Master, understand?" Not even a minute had passed and he was already shouting orders at her. He quickly yanked her inside before she could respond.

"Now, Ariel, follow me to the Den, I want to have a look at you."

"Alright," Arabelle responded in the most seductive tone she could muster at the moment. Unexpectedly, the man turned around and grabbed her wrist yanking it, hard.

"Whenever I address you, you are to respond with 'Yes, Master'! Got it?" He was practically spitting in her face. Arabelle wanted so badly to escape his grip and break his nose, knock him around a little, show him how he should speak to a lady.

"Yes, Master." She responded, trying to hide the distain and the sarcasm in her voice. He turned around sharply and began leading her down a hallway. Arabelle knew the second she stepped through the gate that this was going to be the most physically painful night of her carrier. Everything about this man screamed commanding, selfish, shallow, and greedy, no morals, and perfectionist. Not to mention pompous. He walked with his nose in the air, his chest puffed out, and his shoulders back.

'What an asshole!' She thought to herself.

They stopped in front of a large double door. The man pushed them open, letting light burst through the dark hallway as flames danced wildly in a large fireplace in the center of the room. The Den was essentially decorated with every type of animal that you could hunt for.

"Come here, take off your jacket and spin around for me." He snapped his fingers and pointed at where he wanted her to stand.

"Yes, Master." He smiled at this, which made me feel like slime was oozing down my throat. Slowly, she removed her long coat. She had picked the red lingerie to wear tonight, which was also instructed. She began to turn slowly, modeling for him. This went on for a solid ten minutes. Every now and then, he grunted. Arabelle didn't know if it was out of pleasure and disgust. In fact, she wanted very much not to know. Finally he told her to stop, turn and face him. The look on his face was that of a sick sick man.

"I guess you'll do. You're stout, pretty meaty around the thighs; your ass is a little big for my taste, and your boobs are a little on the small side, but I can overlook all this." Needless to say, now Arabelle wanted very much to punch him in the face and his tender area and kick him with her heeled shoes.

"You can overlook it? I'm sorry that I'm not to your liking! I'm being paid to do this, so show a little fucking respect!" Arabelle couldn't hold her tongue at his comments, but instantly wished she had. The man smacked her hard across the face, knocking the wind out of her and making her fall to the ground.

"Never speak to me like that again! You don't order me, I order you! And I am paying you to do this, so you will obey my every command and like it!" His face shook and became red as he screamed at her; his words truly those of an arrogant man. Arabelle didn't look at him, only at the fire, wishing she was in it.

"Did you not hear what I said?" He smacked her again across the face, making her cheek feel like it was going to explode. Tears filled her eyes, but she held them in.

"Yes, Master." She said through clenched teeth. He smirked at her anger, he was enjoying it, he was enjoying the power he had over her.

"Now," he said smugly. "Let's get on with it." He jumped at her then, ripping her lingerie off, throwing it somewhere in the room. He kissed her hard, smashing his lips into hers. He groped her hard, too. When she reached for his pants, he grabbed her wrists and smashed them on the ground above her head.

"You will do what I tell you when I tell you, nothing more." He hissed in her ear before biting at it.

"Yes, Master." The words felt like acid on her tongue. From then on, he barked orders at her like a dog telling her what to touch, how and when. When she didn't do it right, he smacked her. When she did it right, he thrust into her harder. When he finally entered her, he made extra sure he was in control by grabbing her hips tightly.

Three painful hours later, Arabelle was picking up her clothes, getting ready to leave. When the man noticed this, he stood and asked her what she thought she was doing.

"Monsieur, you paid for three hours, it has been three. I hope everything has been to your liking." Arabelle wanted to get out of there as fast as she possibly could, but found an obstacle in her way. The man raised his hand and swung it towards Arabelle once more, only this time, she caught it before it got to her face. This angered the man even more and his other hand wrapped around Arabelle's neck and rammed her into the wall.

"You can go when I say you can go!" He banged her head against the wall, hard. She glared at him and tried to break from his grasp, he only held her tighter.

"Uh uh, don't struggle, or I'll make it more painful." The man smiled wildly with pleasure. Arabelle quickly stopped thrashing. He released his grasp and Arabelle fell to the floor coughing and gasping for breath. Immediately, the man ripped her clothes off and thrusted roughly into her. Arabelle let out cries of pain and tried again to squirm out of it. The man banged her head against the floor as a warning to stop. A minute later, he stood, grabbed Arabelle by the arm and led her out the door, throwing her stuff after her. He slammed the door behind her, leaving Arabelle to herself.

Outside, it was pitch black, the only light came from the lamps on the street, but even those were dim. Arabelle gathered her things and attempted to pick herself up from the ground. Once she began walking, every inch of her body screamed in pain with each step she took, each movement she made, every breath she took. At one point, she stopped and vomited the entire contents of her stomach. She cried dry tears all the way. After a few blocks of walking, her legs started to shake wildly beneath her. She lost balance and just collapsed on the ground. Instead of trying to pick herself up and continue her journey back home, Arabelle just sat there on the cold, wet ground, lost in herself.

"I have to say, I'm impressed," a familiar voice and face stood before her. Erik. Arabelle didn't respond, she wasn't even aware what was going on.

"You made it a lot farther than I originally thought." He squatted down in front of her; Arabelle just looked at the ground, the night's events continuously running through her brain on a never ending loop. Erik tried to pull some hair away from Arabelle's face, so he could see her. But right as he brushed her skin, she grabbed his wrist. Her grip was tight and there was no sign of her lightening up anytime soon.

"Arabelle, I'm not going to hurt you. Do you even know who I am?" Erik looked at her eyes for any signs of a response. After a moment, she looked up, her trance broken. She released her grip on him and apologized, her voice weak, and empty. Erik rubbed his wrist a little, the force she had was surprising.

"Now then," he stood and extended a hand her way. "Let me escort you home." Arabelle just stared blankly at the hand then back at her legs, sprawled almost lifelessly beneath her.

"I can't move my legs." Erik's extended arm wrapped around her torso, while the other lifted her legs. Arabelle wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her, not home, but back to the Opera Populaire.

"Why are you taking me here, I want to go home," She squirmed a little in a slight panic. He held her tighter.

"Because, it is significantly closer than the Hotel, plus, I would rather not leave you alone tonight. So do me a great favor, and just trust me for once, please?"

When they finally reached his chamber under the opera house, Erik handed her one of his shirts and led her into a closet where she could change. Arabelle couldn't help but notice how gentlemanly Erik was being about all of this. He wasn't asking questions, he was giving her privacy to change, and he was generally concerned of her well being. 'Did he hit his head recently?' Arabelle wondered.

When she finished, he picked her up once more then placed her gently on the mattress he had lying on the floor. She wrapped herself in the many blankets, trying to warm her body. The blankets rustled again, making her jump when she realized Erik was climbing in with her. He seemed to sense her alarm and quickly reassured her that he was there to sleep, nothing more.

"If it would make you feel more comfortable, I'll sleep on the ground," he suggested and began to do so when Arabelle caught his arm.

"No, it's fine," she said hastily, her eyes pleading him to stay. "You can sleep here, I trust you." This made Erik smile and he crawled back into the covers. She rolled on her side, her back to him. He pulled her close against him. Surprisingly, she didn't panic, but rested comfortably in his embrace. Soon, Arabelle's eyelids got heavy and she drifted off into a dreamless sleep. But just before she completely succumbed to the darkness, she heard a voice whisper something in her ear, "I'll keep you safe." There was more, but she dove into the darkness before she had a chance to hear the rest.

A/N: God am I sorry this took so long to update! Things have been really busy on my end. And they are still going full speed. I am going to make more of an effort to finish this fic. The end is coming. In fact, there is going to be one more chapter after this before the climax and resolution (which I expect to be a three parter). Many mysteries will be solved, fates determined, and questions answered. This chapter was as graphic as it's going to get, though. Sorry to those hoping for a lemon. I thought about it, but didn't really want to write it.

Also, I've mentioned in previous chapters that I'm going to write a Gargoyle fan fic. I've decided to hold off on that until I finish this one.

Thank you all for being so paitient(though I have little hope that there are more than just a handful of people who actually read this fic). More to come.

Luce, the ever Surly Mermaid