Erik went through the kitchen, looking for food. He didn't remember the last time he had eaten, so it was probably a good idea to have something. He wasn't too keen on the idea of starving to death. Really he was just too stubborn to die. For years after Christine left, he had contemplated suicide several times, several different ways, but when it came down to it, Erik could never bring himself to actually go through with it.
Finding nothing, he realized he was out of food. He growled in frustration. That meant he was going have to go outside. But the trip was inevitable; he was getting low on morphine anyway.
Darkness was falling outside. Erik pulled the hood of his cloak up to hide his masked face and quickly made his way through the streets. The market was closing, but he was able to convince a few people to sell him enough food to last him a week or two. The morphine was a different story, which meant he was going to have to get that another day.
"Did you go to the fair?" he heard a man say. It took Erik a moment to realize that the man was talking to him.
He shook his head. "No, I didn't realize there was one in town. What fair?"
"Gypsies," the man explained. "One of those traveling circuses. They have an entire freak show on display that they take around Europe."
Erik involuntarily flinched. They were back, back in Paris, back in his life. But not for long, he would make sure of it. "Might have to check it out then," he murmured softly.
Once he was back in his lair, Erik paced frantically. They were back. Why the hell had they come back here? Javert was dead! Was he? Of course he was; Erik had strangled him! But why would they be here? Had someone taken his place? And he had tried to kill Javert when he was young. Maybe he hadn't been strong enough to complete the task at the time.
He had to know, he had to make sure that Javert was really dead. And if somehow, he wasn't, Erik was going to make sure he did it right this time. Grabbing his Punjab lasso, Erik made his way to the stable where he housed his black stallion Cesar. It was time to correct any mistakes he might have made all those years ago.
Her eyes widened in horror as two men walked into the tent. She recognized them as the two boys who had originally found her in the woods, the reason Javert had brought her here. They had popped in to harass her over the years, but could never get into the cage to actually hurt her. But today they had matching smirks. She had a very, very bad feeling.
"Look here," one sneered. "Our little birdie has gotten herself stuck in a cage. Maybe we should let her out." He held up an iron key, which she realized opened the door.
"Maybe later," his companion replied as they let themselves into the cage. "I think we should make her sing first, don't you think?" She wrapped her arms around herself. It was the one and only time she would ever pray for Javert to come in here.
She opened her mouth to scream, but the first man crushed his mouth against hers. The other tore what was left of her dress away. Once her body was exposed, he pressed his erection into her. "No," she whimpered, as she tried to break free. "Please."
The other man snickered. "Come now, we have some unfinished business. I know that you've been looking forward to this as much as we have." He twisted his fingers in her hair and pulled her face to his hardness. She clenched her jaw and attempted to turn her head away, but he forced her mouth open and shoved himself between her lips.
They thrust inside her as she continued to struggle. But there were two of them and they were so much stronger than she was. The men took turns crying out and climaxing. When they finally released her, she collapsed, coughing and choking.
"How did that feel? I couldn't hear you sing little birdie. Maybe we should try again when your mouth isn't so full." He pulled her to her feet, his hands wandering her body as she sobbed.
"Maybe you should leave if you value your lives," a new voice growled.
Everyone whirled around. Javert stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, fire burning in his eyes. The first stood up bravely to him. "We were just having a little fun. Besides, without us, you never would have found her. You owe us."
Javert's fist collided with his jaw. "You owe me! I could kill you right now! Be grateful I'm letting you walk away from this. Next time you won't be so lucky."
Once they were gone, Javert turned to her. She kept her gaze trained hard on the ground, afraid of looking him in the eye. He towered over her for a moment, as she held her breath and waited for him to do something. Javert pulled her to her feet and stared at her for a moment. "You filthy little slut," he growled before backhanding her with all his strength. Everything went black and she collapsed.
Erik knew beyond a doubt that this was the same fair he had escaped from. He would know these tents anywhere. Out of curiosity, he began to look around. Much to his surprise, he spotted the old 'Devil's Child' tent. But instead of being front and center like it used to, it was hidden away, out of sight, with the tents that the gypsies slept in. Did they put a new display in, or was it being repurposed?
Needing to know, he slowly approached it. As he grew closer, Erik could hear shouting coming from within the tent. His blood went cold as he recognized one of the voices. Javert was here. Somehow he was still alive. Two men were thrown out of the tent. Once they walked away grumbling, Erik slipped inside the tent.
To his amazement, his old cage was still in the tent. Standing inside the cage was Javert. The man was facing away from Erik and for a moment, he wondered if the gypsy was even aware of his presence. Then his old abuser spoke without turning around. "I told you that you'd regret coming back here, boy."
"I think you're the one who's going to regret my return," Erik replied with a malicious smirk.
Javert spun around, clearly expecting someone other than Erik. "Who the hell are you?"
"Don't you recognize me?" he asked, feigning offense. "After everything you put me through? Perhaps this will help." Erik reached up and pulled his mask away from his face. He could honestly say it was the first time he had enjoyed seeing a horrified expression from seeing his deformity. "Now do you know who I am?"
"You!" Javert shouted. "You filthy little brat! You tried to kill me!"
"Yes, I believe I did," Erik sneered. "And now I'm here to finish the job."
The gypsy sized up the taller man. "You couldn't do it before. What makes you think you can kill me now?"
"Oh I'm most certain I can kill you," Erik assured him. "I always considered you my first victim. I suppose it'll have to do putting you so much later. I'm afraid I've lost count of how many people have died by hand, I hope you don't mind that I can't tell you where exactly you're going to fall on the list now." His eyes grew wide. Before Javert could react, Erik was in motion, and the lasso was around his neck.
After a short struggle, Erik stood triumphantly. This time Javert was really dead. To cover up what he had done, Erik tied the rope to one of the top bars of the cage so the gypsy hung suspended in the center of the cage, making it look like Javert had committed suicide and hung himself.
As he stepped back to admire his handiwork, Erik heard a soft whimper. Unsure if the noise was real or just imagined, he glanced around. Looking down, he realized he had stepped on a hand. The hand was naturally attached to an arm, which belonged to an unmoving body on the ground. How had he missed this?
Erik knelt next to the person, which turned out to be a blonde haired girl. Brushing the veil of hair that shielded her face away, he revealed extensive bruises that covered the rest of her body as well. He bit the tip of one of his gloves, pulling it off, before checking for a pulse. Somehow, there was one, and it felt fairly regular. Glancing over her again, he realized she was only nineteen or twenty, but she had been clearly been here a long time.
What was he going to do now? He couldn't just leave her here, but she was in no shape to just be let go. There was nothing he could do to help her, unless…
She stirred and slowly opened her eyes. Her head throbbed painfully, but she could instantly tell this was all just a dream. After all, no one would ever be bothered to rescue her. But since this was a dream, why not enjoy it?
Her dream rescuer was incredibly handsome. The half of his face she could see was anyway. His hair was jet black and slicked back, his eyes were a stunning emerald-green. Her head was resting against his broad chest and she could tell he was carrying her without effort.
He carried her to a large black horse. That was odd; she had thought since it was a dream, it'd be a white horse. She wasn't complaining though. It was a beautiful animal, one that any prince would desperately want.
His strong arms wrapped around her as he mounted the horse and spurred the animal forward. She leaned against him, closed her eyes, and gave into the soothing rhythm of the horse's hooves as they galloped off into the night. It was such a shame that it wasn't real.