Laetitia was unsympathetic.

"You know, bossman, calling her stupid wasn't the brightest thing to do."

"She got herself engaged to a man she barely knows, Laetitia!"

She shrugged her tiny shoulders. "Didn't Romeo and Juliet get married the morning after they meet?"

Erik gritted his teeth. "Amme Eledhwen and Michel Leclerc are not Romeo and Juliet!"

"So? What are you going to do about it?"

"Killing Leclerc comes to mind."

Laetitia shook her head. "That's a bad idea, bossman. Amme will hate you forever if you do."

"She already hates me. What harm could it do?"

"Whenever you say that, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end."

"Oh, grow a backbone, woman. I'd be taking the blame, anyways."

"Even so,"

Erik sighed. "Fine, I won't kill him. If Amme wants to marry a man she doesn't know, that's her problem, isn't it? Even if she regrets it later, which she will, it isn't my fault. I warned her."

"That's the spirit!" Laetitia turned a summersault. "But you do realize if she does regret it, you'll take her back, no matter how angry at her you are now."

"I will not!" Erik said hotly. "We've both decided never to see each other again. From now on, I don't care what happens to that elf, Amme Eledhwen."

Said elf was walking very quickly in the rain. She promised to meet her fiancée, Michel, by his house and they would go out to dinner. Then, when she turned a corner, she saw him coming out of a bar.

"Michel?"

He spun around. "Oh, Amme, baby."

She stopped. "What did you call me?"

"Your name, baby."

Amme stared at him is disbelief. "I am not a kit."

"Didn't call ya one, baby."

"You're drunk." She accused.

"Yep," He grinned. "Want one?"

"I must certainly do not!" Amme snapped. "I don't drink."

"Don't need be so hoity-toity. Don't need to turn up your tiny nose at it!" He swayed slightly.

She watched him with one eyebrow raised. "How often do you drink?"

"Why's that any of your business, baby?"

"I am not marrying a man who drinks regularly! And don't call me baby!"

Michel grabbed her arm hard. "You're marryin' me whether you wanna or not, so deal with it." He threw her against the wall.

Amme straightened. "How dare you!"

"Shut your mouth, bitch!" He roared, his hand coming up. "I'll do what I wanna!"

The next day, Meg, of course, skipped towards Amme, who was walking slowly to the theatre.

"Hello, Amme! How was your yesterday?"

Amme didn't turn. "It was fine."

Meg was unconvinced. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Are you alright, Amme? Let me look at you."

Amme finally turned to Meg, who backed up.

"What happened to your face?!"

There was a lovely bruise spreading across the elf's left eye and down onto her left cheek. Her lips were swollen, and her right cheek was bright red, raw, and shiny, almost as if it had been burnt.

"I…fell."

"No, you did not!" Meg protested. "You aren't clumsy."

"It's my fault." She turned back to the theatre.

"Amme, people don't get burnt from falling."

"Maybe I landed into a fire."

"Amme! Really! What're the chances of that?"

"It's possible. You never know."

"Wait just one second, Amme…"

Christine came at that moment. "Hello, Meg. Hello, A…Amme? What happened to your face?"

"I fell," Amme said stubbornly.

"You must certainly did not fall!"

"Yes, I did! Excuse me, I have to go." And go she did.

Meg turned to Christine. "What do you think happened to her?"

"I have no idea! But I know there's no way she could have fallen, and ended up like that. It looks like something, or someone, hit her!"

"Well," Meg said confidently. "If it was a someone, the Ghost will take care of it. I think he likes her quite a lot. Unless," Meg frowned. "You don't think he's the one doing it, do you?"

Christine shook her head. "I know just as much as you do, Meg."

Things only proceeded to get worse for Amme. New bruises would form long before the old ones disappeared. One day, she had to limp to the theatre, and didn't stop that day forward. It seemed her leg just wouldn't heal. Two scars had appeared, one on her right eyebrow, the other across her lip.

"Amme," Christine said finally. "You need help. Really, you can't solve this alone."

"What? I need to have someone help me stop being a klutz?"

"Yes! Amme, the problem isn't going away!"

"I'm tripping, that's all."

Christine gave her a hard look. "You're insulted my intelligence, Amme, and everyone else's, too. We all know you aren't tripping. Someone is abusing you. Who is it?"

"No one!" Amme snapped, before quickly leaving the room.

Christine was determined to help Amme. She was so determined, she did something she never expected to do again; she went to talk with the Opera Ghost.

"Christine!" He smiled to see her. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Amme," Christine replied stoutly.

His smile faded. "Why should I have anything to do with Amme?"

"Someone's been hurting her. Really badly, too."

"How does that affect me?"

She stared at him, shocked. "I thought you liked her! A lot. Shouldn't you care if—"?

"No," Erik cut her off. "I don't care. She can take care of herself."

Christine slowly shook her head. "I don't believe this! I thought I could count on you! Unless you're the one doing it?"

"I haven't touched her, and I never will! Is this all you came here for? Because if it is, you're wasting your time."

"I can see that," Christine said coldly. "Thank you so much for helping me."

Erik watched her go, feeling sad he had hurt Christine like that. But Amme had made her choice, and he wouldn't interfere with it, no matter what it cost.

But it would make it a lot easier if people didn't keep bring her up. Laetitia talked about the woman every time she spoke. Why wouldn't people just let him forget about her?

Amme ran a hand through her hair. Michel wanted her to meet him by the bar again. She had gone there almost every day for the past two weeks. She didn't like it, but she also was confused. Physical abuse was new to her, and she didn't know how to react to it. She was, at first, very confident she could get him to stop by herself, but now she wasn't so sure. It was almost as if every time he saw her, he gave her a new bruise. That wasn't what she would call progress.

There were two reasons why Amme wasn't telling anyone what was happening. One, because she wasn't sure how to tell them. Two, because of personal pride. Amme didn't want them to think she was weak in any way.

"There you are!"

Amme turned. Michel was walking towards her, pointing accusingly.

"You…you told me to meet you here?" Amme said slowly.

"I didn't mean this bar, idiot!" He smacked her face.

"Please, stop it!"

"Don't tell me what to do!" He shouted. "I'll decide what I'll do!"

"You wanted me to meet you at the bar! This is the only one you've been going to for the past two weeks, so I thought…"

"That I can't change my mind, is that it?" He snapped, grapping her hair and yanking it back. Hard. "Is that what you think?"

"No!" Amme denied weakly.

"Yes, it is! Don't you dare lie to me! Just like the rest of you actresses!"

"I am not lying!" She cried. "Let go of me!"

He shoved her against the wall. Amme fell on her arm and there was a cracking sound, followed by intense pain in said arm.

"Get up, you useless lump, get up!"

Amme, biting back tears, slowly stood, holding her right arm gingerly. Michel grabbed that arm and pulled hard.

The elf screamed, the tears finally breaking through.

"Bossman," Laetitia sang.

"I do not want to talk about Amme, Laetitia."

"Maybe not, but she wants to talk to you."

Erik looked up sharply. "What? No, you must be mistaken."

"Can't be. She told me so herself."

"You can only speak mermish."

"She can too. Not as well as you, I'll admit, but still fairly well. She looks pretty bad." She added as an afterthought.

"She's about to get worse," Erik muttered, grabbing his lasso.

Amme was, indeed, waiting for him. Before he even got off the boat, she was talking.

"Phantom, listen. You were right about Michel. I don't know him and I really shouldn't have gotten engaged to him. I'm really, really sorry I yelled at you before. And I really want to make it up to you. I really need some help, and…"

"Stop right there," Erik said coldly. He was still too angry with her to believe a word she said, and was letting that anger do the talking for him. "I thought we agreed never to see each other again. This doesn't look very much like keeping your word. Wouldn't be the first time for you, thought," He added cruelly.

Amme hung her head. "I'm really sorry."

"I don't care what you are, Amme Eledhwen. If you come down here again, I swear, I'll kill you. Don't think you'll get special treatment just because I said I loved you before. You'll be treated like everyone else."

"But…"

"Get out! NOW!" He shouted the last word.

Amme limped off, tears streaming down her face.