Chapter Eight: Attack of the Rats
I was greeted by the most horrible smell up my nose when I woke up and I was jarred from unconsciousness via smelling salts. I jerked up in the chair I had been placed in, my eyes snapping open as I felt something around my neck tighten. I looked around and got used to my surroundings and found myself to be in a circular room whose walls were made of large mirrors.
A lock of my loose hair fell into my eyes and I moved to reach up a hand and move it away but when I tried to raise my left hand, I found it to be tied down tightly to the frame of the wooden chair I sat in. The same was done to both my feet and right arm, I growled and struggled against my bonds, shifting and jerking, trying to get away. Each time I did this, something around my neck tightened. I looked to one side of the room behind me and spotted a lever. I was instantly curious as to what that would do, but my attention as drawn elsewhere as I began to plan my escape, which was basically just thrash around until the knot came loose.
Finally, I looked up after seven minutes of thrashing about to find that a noose hung from the ceiling was strung around my neck and with every pull or tug I had made, I had tightened it, making my airway smaller. I didn't care about this, and my anger at the Phantom grew while my pity for him lessened. I began to thrash around again when a voice, loud and booming was radiated around the room.
"My dear newcomer, be more cautious, you don't have much slack left. Silly young girl, getting quite angry, waiting for her sentence." I was floored for a few moments when the Phantom stopped singing, mainly due to the fact that he was singing. I didn't expect him to, but he did, how very odd.
I remained silent, waiting to see what he would do, not moving an inch. A response never came, but the next thing I knew, in a time span that could've been six minutes or six hours, a section of the room of mirrors slid away and revealed a door. In doorway stood the Phantom, his white mask gleaming against his dark cape and black tuxedo. My blood boiled at the sight of him and my anger grew.
"Let me go now." I said in a stony cold voice but Erik made no move to do so, instead, he smirked. This only made my rage grow and become more blinding.
"As the child commands." This statement drew me from my anger as he crossed the room and gripped the lever tightly, pulling the smallest bit. I shrieked at the chair I was sitting in dropped a few centimeters, pulling the rope even tighter.
"Oh my God! Stop it, stop it, stop it!" I shouted and he pulled the lever back to its original place, raising me up again and giving me breathing room.
"Why were you in my domain?" Erik asked, this time actually speaking instead of singing. Frightened tears were already streaming down my face and choked sobs wracked my body. I'd never been more afraid in my life, not even when Joseph Buquet tried to throw me from the balcony.
"I- I went to save Christine Daae." This answer seemed to throw him off guard, for he had no response to my reply, almost as if he wasn't expecting me to have a reason at all.
"Why would you do this?" He asked in a somewhat surprised but still stony voice filled with so much rage. I knew why he was asking, as I'd been at the Opera house for three days, but I had the answer to that, I'd always had.
"Because, she's my friend, and I have so few." I whispered; my voice hoarse and his gaze softened from steel-hard to rock-hard.
"You would risk your life to save a girl you barely know?" He asked and I nodded. I'd go anywhere for my friends, and even though I didn't know if Christine counted me as her friend, I counted her.
"Yes, friends save you from danger." I said and for a moment, a sad, troubled look crossed over the Phantoms face and it hit me two seconds later that I'd just insulted him.
The Phantom seemed to pull himself from his own little world before gripping the lever again. He said not a word as he pulled it a little more, and then a little more, and then he finally gave a roar of anger and pulled it as hard as he could, sending the trapdoor beneath me flying open and me falling down, down, down the rope tightening around my neck and cutting off my air supply.
I jerked awake from the horrible, horrible dream and almost shrieked when I realized I was no longer in the room of mirrors, but back in the lair, with my hands tied behind my back and my feet together. I sat in a comfortable, red-velvet seat and across from me stood the Phantom, who had on a white poet shirt and black pants instead of a tuxedo.
His back was to me and when he register that I'd woken up by the strangled cry I gave, he reached a thin, pale hand to the table beside him and picked up his mask. I longed to see what his face looked like; but I remained still as he replaced it on his face and turned to face me with a sneer on his lips.
"Why have you come here?" He hissed in perfect English, but the nerve I had from my dream had faded as I knew this was real.
"I-I came t-to save Christine." I whispered and the Phantom's smirk turned even crueller.
"Did you? How unfortunate for you that she is no longer here." He said and my fear was momentarily replaced by anger.
"What have you done with her?!" I shouted, jerking forward and this seemed to catch him off guard, but only momentarily, for it was then that he reached to his left and picked up a length of rope with a noose at the end. He held it to the light dangerously and I shut up, shrinking back into the sofa. It seemed to please him that I was so frightened for he set the lasso down and walked closer to me.
"Miss Daae was returned earlier this morning, newcomer. Your gallant rescue plan has been in vain and has cost you your freedom." I sucked in a breath and for a moment, thought he was just kidding with me. My eyes flew to his light blue eyes, silently begging him to be lying. No emotion was on his face and I knew that he was dead serious. I let out a choked sob but my face remained dry as I let my gaze drop to the ground.
"You're going to keep me here?" I asked in a hushed voice, looking up to see him nod. "Oh Lord." Was all I could get out as I thought of life down here with him, the kidnapping ghost.
"You have seen my domain, and you have ransacked my belongings, you have sealed your own fate." I couldn't look at him, I couldn't bear to; I kept my head down as I let sobs wrack through my body, mourning the loss of my freedom quietly.
"No…no…no…no…no…no…no…no…" I whispered the word for hours until it lost all meaning. Eventually, Erik stood up and walked away to his organ, leaving me alone. He sat down and began to play a beautiful melody, casting me glances every now and then, as if placing silent bets on when I would stop crying and start listening. I never stopped crying, not that night at least, I sat there while he played long into the night, sobbing and crying and messing up my face.
I finally stopped crying when they came.
I all honesty, I'd expected them much, much sooner. Why they'd put it off, I did not know and I didn't want to know, maybe it had something to do with Sycamore's plan and that I did not want to think about.
They poured out of nowhere, surrounding the chair I was in and glaring at me expectantly with their beady red eyes. They were repulsive with their matted black fur and thick, grotesque tails. It began as it always did, they would laugh at me, their breath wheezy and vile, and then they would start with her demands.
"Take us home." Their leader began and then another piped up, repeating the phrase and then another and another and another until they were all wheezing it out.
"I-I can't." I whispered quietly, trying to have their presence remain unknown by Erik.
"Do it now, Persis, don't make us angry." They repeated that for some time, growing more and more rabid as the seconds flew by. They grew larger, their mouths began to foam and their beady eyes glared at me, wishing death upon me.
"Stop it; you know this isn't my doing." I whispered a little bit louder than I meant to. I looked to see Erik turn his head towards me and his brow furrow the slightest bit, but I ignored him.
The largest Thing, the leader was the first one to bite. It took a flying leap into the air and landed beside me, sinking its teeth into my upper arm. I shrieked in pain and startled Erik, making him hit an off note before slamming his fingers on the keys before standing up and walking down the steps.
By then, almost all of the Things were attacking me. They bit and scratched and tore away my skin, but when I tried to kick them off, my legs went right through them. The pain was so real though, it felt like a million rats were trying to strip my flesh from my bones and succeeding.
"Get off!" I shouted and the oncoming Phantom back up just the slightest bit. I looked to him with pleading eyes before flipping my body over and trying to fling more Things away from me to no avail. Their bites and scratches didn't leave any physical effect on me, as there was no blood or wounds, but it sure as hell felt like it.
It was then that something very, very strange happened.
Erik, who didn't seem to know what was going on, reached out his thin, pale hand and brushed it over the top of my leg. I didn't expect this to work, but the Things went flying off and vanished into thin air. I looked to him in shock, my mouth falling open as he turned and ascended back up the stairs, sitting in front of his organ and picking up one of his many quills, scratching a few notes onto the music sheets.
"You made them go away." I croaked. It was a statement, not a question, but Erik didn't even turn his head, making me wonder if he'd even heard me.
"I know." He replied after some time, never turning to look at me.
"You're not going to ask what they are?" I asked and he shook his head.
"No, however, if you wish to tell me, I am listening." He replied and I found myself to utterly bored to not to.
"Do you know what schizophrenia is?" I asked and he nodded. I was surprised, as it wasn't exactly a household name, especially with actual name only being dreamed up in 1867, I supposed that he had more secrets than I thought.
"It's a psychological disorder that I came across in my studies." He responded and I gasped.
"You did?" He nodded, setting his quill down.
"Yes, when I studied in Persia." He replied and I nodded.
"I suffer from it, although my case is mild." I replied and this seemed to peak his interest.
"In what ways?" I shrugged as best as I could with my hands tied behind my back.
"I can differentiate reality from my own little world, and I don't go into my own little world anymore, my medication fixed that." I said bitterly, remembering my happy place that the doctors had supressed with many, many different types of narcotics.
"Go on." He said, turning to actually look at me.
"Despite this, I see things. I have friends who aren't really there. Their names are Sixty, Goblin, Scissors, Jinx and Shock." I told him, but he didn't seem surprised in the least. "I also have a bad friend." I said; this time quieter. "Her name is Sycamore; she's the one who sends the Things, the little monsters that were hurting me." I said.
The Phantom said nothing; he just stood up and walked a little bit closer to me, taking a seat on the rock.
"Sycamore never shows her face, but I see all my other friends as clear as day. When I don't so what she likes, she scratches me or has the Things do it for her." I finished, sighing and shifting around until I was more comfortable. I hissed in pain when I accidentally, flexed my injured hand and Erik seemed to register this, for he stood up and walked towards a small box on the low table where his rope sat.
I was scared that he might reach for the lasso instead and finally make my nightmare come true but he did not, instead, he unlocked the little box and took out a bottle of ointment and a bandage. He lastly picked up and knife and motioned for me to turn around, which I did.
He grabbed the rope that bound my hands together, if a little bit roughly, and began to saw away at the binds until they came loose. I felt air on the raw skin of my wrists, but the cut in my hand that had completely soaked its makeshift bandage with blood was a lot more painful.
As gently as he could, the Opera Ghost undid the ruined bandage and threw it away, unfurling my clenched hand and opening the bottle. It smelled awful, but he dumped quite a bit on the cut, making it sting like crazy. I yelped and he mumbled something that I didn't hear before carefully wrapping the white bandage around my hand and tying it.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the ties I saw him wearing around his neck the night he was in my room, and with incredible speed, he tied my wrists together again, this time, they didn't burn or anything. He quickly did the same to my ankles before I turned around and gave him an odd look.
"Thank you." I said quietly, but before he could say anything else, I turned my head away and yawned, exhaustion seeping into my muscles. The chair was not the most comfortable place to sleep, but it was the best I had, so I adjusted myself and closed my eyes, forgetting that the Opera Ghost was even there as I slipped into unconsciousness.