A/N: Thank you for taking time to read and follow this story. As I'm sure you can tell, this is my first effort at writing anything of this nature. I had considerable difficulties with compatibility issues between my iPad and the uploader, hence the first chapter being so long. I had originally planned on splitting it up into smaller chapters, but gave up and sent the whole mess together.
On a side note, I just wanted to mention that my Eric looks like the phantom from the 2004 movie adaptation. I liked the soulfulness that Mr. Butler projected through his eyes and mannerisms. I imagine him singing like Hugh Panaro or Ben Owens. My inspiration comes from the aforementioned movie, the New York stage production, and Susan Kay's novel blended and topped with my own imagination. Now, on with our tale:
Angelina awoke from her drug induced stupor days later, foggy from the laudanum, and in considerable pain.
"I feel like I've been trampled." she thought to herself. Looking down, she noticed that at some point she had changed into a man's nightshirt but she couldn't recall when. Gingerly, she eased her legs over the edge of the bed and had to pause as a wave of dizziness threatened to overcome her. Once the black spots retreated from her vision she tentatively touched her feet to the floor,testing their willingness to hold her up. She pressed one hand to the wall to steady herself as she slowly inched her way to the door.
Just as she reached the handle, the door swung open to reveal a man dressed in black trousers and a crisp, white shirt. The first three buttons of the shirt were undone allowing her a tantalizing glimpse of his bare, sinewy chest. His hair was slicked back meticulously and one half of his face was covered by a stark white mask.
"Eric? Is that you?" she asked.
" Of course it is. Who else were you expecting?" he growled."Why are you out of bed? I thought I told you to be careful of those stitches"
"...but your hair seemed lighter ...and why are you wearing that peculiar mask? "
"Perhaps there is damage to your brain in addition to the rest of your body!" he roared. "Do you not recall seeing my face last night? Did it not repulse you Madame? Give you nightmares per chance? The face of a MONSTER! This face that has been nothing but A CURSE!" he spat out.
"Yes, I saw a man with some sort of disfigurement to half of his face. Did I find it repulsive? No. Was I frightened? Obviously not-not of your face at least." The only thing I find frightening are your mood swings, Sir!" Angelina stood inches from his face, breath heaving from her sudden outburst, her hands clenched into fists by her side. "Now, if you please, remove that ridiculous piece of leather. I can only imagine how uncomfortable it must be for you. I would like to at least see who is shouting at me!" She wisely refrained from mentioning the hair piece-best not to press her luck.
"On the contrary, if you were burdened with a face like this you would know the comfort that the mask affords." The rage seemed to have burned itself out leaving behind only shame. "Please forgive my outburst." he hissed sarcastically. "I merely came in to check on you and bring you some clothing that I went to considerable trouble to procure. You thankless chit." the last part being said under his breath.
Angelina fought to suppress a nervous giggle as she realized the absurdity of the situation. Here she was presumably standing in this man's nightshirt with no idea where she was or how she got here in the first place-and she was arguing with him to boot! He was right. She probably was brain damaged.
Eric ventured a glance at her as he turned to leave the room. She was beginning to ge tunder his skin in a discomforting way. He would not allow this to happen. He suddenly felt as though he were suffocating.
"I'm going out for a short time. Try not to get into any trouble" he sneered as he walked out and slammed the door hard enough to knock a picture off the wall.
" THANKS FOR THE CLOTHES!" she yelled sarcastically at the door as she flung herself back down on the bed. There was something vaguely familiar about this man, something teasing at the corners of her mind just out of reach. He was infuriating but at the same time endearing, in a way. There was a feeling of desolation about him that pulled at her heart. His flagrant temper, however, frightened her more deeply than she cared to admit. " You could have at least offered me something else for the pain." she pouted.
Angelina waited until she was certain he had left before rising again. Quietly, she limped across the room and opened the door a crack. The sitting room was deserted. She marveled at the rich brocade tapestries and the ornate furniture adorning the small living space as she made her way down the hall. Whoever Eric was, he certainly was a man of taste! Down the hall to her right was a room with the door slightly ajar. Angelina peeked in quickly to make sure it was empty before venturing inside. Along one wall stood several easels with pictures in various states of completion. At the back of the room stood a beautiful piano forte with sheets of music scattered along the polished top. The instrument drew her attention inexplicably as if unseen hands were compelling her forwards. She sat down at the bench and hesitantly placed her fingers on the keys, completely entranced. Her fingers began to move over the keyboard by their own accord, caressing the notes lovingly, releasing them into the atmosphere. This was the music that had lodged itself in her brain, the accompaniment to her nightmares of free falling into an abyss. She lost all sense of time as notes spun on and on, dancing and swirling into the ephemera. A sharp intake of breath behind her brought her back to her senses.
Eric had walked to the underground stream in an effort to clear his head when he heard the strains of "Point of No Return" wafting across the gloom. He charged back to the house and burst inside to find Angelina sitting at his piano with a dazed look in her eyes.
"How do you know that piece? " he asked incredulously. "The score was destroyed!
Were you in the audience that night?" he panted, tears forming in his eyes.
"Eric, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any harm. This music has been burned into my soul. I hear it in my dreams-it haunts me! I don't understand what it is but I think it's what led me here."
"That was her song! You have no right!" he cried out as a sob escaped his throat.
Angelina reached up to wipe away the lone tear that coursed down his cheek. He stiffened noticeably and caught her wrist in midair.
"Leave me...please." he whispered.
Confused and hurt, Angelina stumbled back to her room. She lay down, knees pulled painfully to her chest, curling herself into a tight ball. "What just happened?" None of this makes any sense to her. " Who the hell am I and what am I doing here? For the love of God, I don't even know where here is. " she agonized as she began sobbing in great uncontrolled spasms of grief and confusion. Eventually, she cried herself into a deep, fitful sleep.
"I should have left her to die in the shadows!" Eric stormed. " Damn her, that little impertinent WENCH! Why does she torment me so?" he cried out to the empty room.
Tears which he had kept at bay in front of Angelina now streamed down his cheeks unhindered. She was wearing down the protective fortress that he had painstakingly erected around his heart. He detested being vulnerable! He spent a lifetime cultivating a pretense of aloofness and indifference. It was his only defense against the cruelties life had shown him. Now, this woman threatened to bring the whole charade down around him. He had made this mistake before, and had paid dearly for it. Fate had been a heartless mistress indeed. Why now? He had finally made peace with Christine's betrayal. He admitted his blame in driving her away. He accepted that his desperate obsession had blinded him to reality, had even driven him to temporary madness. She had been far too young and much too naive to see beyond the pain and hopelessness that drove his actions. The entire situation had been doomed from it's very beginning, but that was in the past! He had all but convinced himself that he had become immune to useless feelings such as love and loss. A life of near solitude would have assured that, but now fate had literally dropped this woman into his midst, effectively destroying the peace of his perfect little orderly world. How could someone like him ever expect to be looked upon as anything but a curiosity, an outrage to humanity to be mocked and feared? He could not bear to have his soul crushed again.