Sorry that this is a little late, I had some trouble with how to write this scene. But here it is, finally. Enjoy!
Chapter Twenty-Two
Patrick was talking and laughing with his friends on the side of the stage as two of the crewmembers were attempting to move a particularly heavy piece of scenery. The pace of the rehearsal had slowed and everyone was enjoying a moment to talk to each other.
Suddenly the doors at the back of the stage banged open and a man dressed entirely in black with a white mask strode through, silencing everyone as they turned to look at him. He paused for a moment as his eyes roved the crowd, searching. They locked on Patrick and a murderous glint came into them. His quick, heavy strides took him to the small clump of stagehands, who were still talking and laughing loudly. They didn't notice him until he pushed through their numbers to Patrick. Patrick saw him and his eyes widened with shock and a tinge of fear as Erik grabbed his neck and slammed him against the wall.
"What did you do to her, you bastard?" he growled through his teeth.
Patrick made a futile attempt to stay calm in the face of Erik's rage. "Oh hi there, I've been expecting you. I must say, it took a shorter time than I thought for you to come."
It was the wrong thing to say. Erik's fingers pressed Patrick closer to the wall, cutting off his air supply more. "Why? Because you managed to convince her that if she told me about you I would leave her? Yes, that was very well done," he said sarcastically.
"I had to have some way of making sure she kept her mouth shut. Pity that it didn't work."
Erik let out an almost animalistic growl. White anger burned behind his eyes. "Yes, you were trying to hide from me. Trying to hide the fact of what you have done to the woman I love. But Monsieur Patrick, I am the Phantom of the Opera. I know everything. You should have expected me to come."
"Yes. Because it was all your fault," Patrick taunted.
Erik froze for a moment. Those simple words cut him to the core. Secretly, he had blamed himself for it ever since he saw the broken rose in Alison's hand. And he knew that it wasn't just coincidence that she had been raped the same day she had slept with him.
But then he looked at Patrick's face, which was smug even while being strangled, and anger coursed through him again. He pressed Patrick's throat closer to the wall. "My fault? MY fault? I was not the one who locked her in a room. I was not the one who tied her to a table and had my way with her even though she was screaming. I was not the one who hit her and bruised her whenever she tried to escape. Search all you want, but the blame for what happened to her cannot be pinned on me. You know that as well as I do. You want to make it someone else's fault so that you do not have to face what you have done. But you will face it. I will make you face it."
His grip grew tighter as he spoke and Patrick began to claw at his fingers.
"Get off, dammit," Patrick choked. "You're a monster."
Using the fingers around his throat, Erik threw Patrick to the ground. "After everything you have done, you dare call me a monster? You are not even deserving of the title. You are devil spawn. Did you care? Did you care that she was in love with me? Did you care that she was hurting? Did you care that she is having nightmares every night because of you?" He punctuated the last word with a kick to Patrick's side and Patrick curled around his foot in pain.
"I will equal every single bit of pain you have caused her, every time you have made her scream in agony and fear. I promised myself I would make you suffer, and I will."
Patrick's breath hissed through his teeth. "That seems a lot of trouble for a girl, doesn't it? More than she's worth, for sure."
"If you truly believe that, you never deserved to have her in the first place. She is beautiful–" he kicked Patrick's side, "smart–" another kick, "kind–" another, "accepting–" another, "and far too perfect for the likes of you. If you believe that she is not worth any of it, you are the blindest man who ever came to this earth. But you are something much worse than that."
"What am I, then?" Patrick was trying to maintain his bravado while he was curled up in pain on the floor.
"You are the slimiest weakling who ever crawled the earth. You are less important than the smallest worm. You are unintelligent, unwanted, and unneeded."
"What basis do you have for that assessment?"
"You hurt the woman I love. Hurt her so deeply that she cries in her sleep. You made her believe that there are circumstances under which I would ever leave her. You kicked her and bruised her and made her feel so worthless that she will not even look in a mirror because she is afraid of what she will see there. You have done all of these things to a girl who is better than you will ever be, and you do not care at all. You laugh in my face and taunt me for caring."
"She's not all that, you know. She's an idiot. After all, she slept with a monster, didn't she? Did she throw up when she saw your ugly face? I bet it was all just pity after that. She doesn't really love you; she just needed a good fuck. I showed her what a real man does, what a real man looks like. You should both thank me," he said, slowly getting to his feet. "I did your job for you. I'm surprised that the slut came running back to you, after me. And you should thank me for showing you how much of a whore she really is. It was clear to me the moment I found out that she had slept with you–"
Erik pushed him and he went down again, hitting his head hard on the floor.
"You are wrong," he hissed. "Wrong about her, wrong about us, wrong about everything. You have no shame. She is not a whore. From what she told me, she refused to sleep with you when you and she were together. You call her a slut because she made an adult decision. Even if it had not been me, it would have been a man she loved. And she never loved you, Patrick. She told me herself. It is me that she loves. Always me. She is mine now. If you think you can escape with hurting the best thing that has ever happened to me, you may want to reexamine the way you think. But I promise you, Patrick, that you will not escape from this alive."
"Oh look, how sweet," Patrick simpered. "The monster standing up for the whore. It should be a movie or something."
Erik spat at his feet. "You are the monster, not I. You are a despicable human being who does not deserve to walk this earth." His eyes showed none of the fiery anger from before. Now they were cold and deadly, boring into Patrick's skull and freezing his heart. True fear crept through him for the first time. His eyes darted around, searching for a way out. Erik noticed this and smirked.
"You pretend that you have no fear, but you are just as much of a coward as everybody else. You will be begging for mercy, and you will receive none. My heart is turned against you, and you cannot appeal to my better nature."
Everyone on the stage was staring in shock, hardly daring to breathe. No one wanted to incur the wrath of this frightening man who claimed to be the Opera Ghost.
Erik walked towards Patrick with slow, measured steps until he stood right above him. Patrick looked up into those cold eyes and something inside him snapped.
"Please don't! Please. I'll do anything, I'll never do anything like that again, just leave me alone! Don't hurt me, please don't hurt me, I was drunk and angry and I didn't know what I was doing, I didn't mean to take what's yours. Please, please, please!"
"All of the pleading in the world cannot save you now. You have cast your lot and cannot go back."
"I'm sorry for what I did, I'm so sorry!" He scrambled around Erik in an animalistic way, barely got to his feet, and tried to run away.
The lasso was too fast.
It caught him around the neck and his fingers immediately went to it, trying to pull it off. Erik dragged him closer using the lasso, choking him slowly as he went. He fell back against Erik, his air almost gone.
The last thing Patrick saw were those cold, cold eyes and the last thing he heard was Erik's whisper. "Too late."
Erik stared down at the corpse of his enemy, a triumphant smirk on his masked face. He had killed before, but never had he truly felt the perverse satisfaction that came with Patrick's death. He unhooked his lasso from Patrick's neck. Then he turned and stalked out as quickly as he had come.
This chapter is a little short, apologies, but it got through the essence of the action. Everyone seems to have wanted me to kill Patrick off, and I have. I hope that it fulfilled your expectations and wishes :) Please review and let me know!