Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. I only own my own characters.
"That was an impressive performance boy. I knew that you were wild, but I was unaware that you could take a lion down in under five minutes. Perhaps next time there will be a lion and a tiger."
I stared numbly into the face of my tormentor. The shah was praising me. This was a truly rare occasion. I would have rejoiced, but I knew better than that. Nothing in my life was ever good; not even approval from others. All this meant for me was that I would now have to endure more difficult fights. How delightful this was. Now was not the time to drown in self-pity, however. So I simply replied…
"I am honored to have pleased you, monsieur." I bowed my head in respect. The shah nodded.
"You do well by me child, but you know as well as I do that it is too great a risk on my part to allow you freedom. You must return to your chamber."
The shah was right of course, I knew well that he would never let me reside in one of his suites. His suites! I constructed the entire building for him! I suppose comfortable living was too much for a freak to ask for. I knew these thoughts would get me nowhere. For now, I would just have to deal with being a forced professional assassin. I was not yet ready to set my escape plan in motion. Patience is a virtue.
Thoughts of escape occupied my mind as the guards yanked me through the halls. When they finally pushed me into my cell I was somewhat surprised to be back. And I was even more surprised to hear sniffling off to my left. Sniffling? Surely that can't be right. Whoever would be down here? I gazed around the small space cautiously… nothing. There was absolutely nothing here. Good God, the fights were going to drive me to the brink of insanity. I sauntered to the far corner of the cell, ready for a rest. Yes, rest would ease my paranoia. With my eyelids drooping and my head lolling off to the side, sleep graciously took me.
I was thoroughly aggravated that my slumber was interrupted entirely too early. A small whimper assaulted my ears. Would my mind ever allow me peace? I was about to dismiss the sound as a combination of fatigue and loneliness, but the whimper continued. The sound gained strength. Eventually it was nothing less than a scream. When I finally couldn't stand it any longer I called out to the person occupying the adjoining cell.
"Squealing as such will no doubt harm your vocal chords." Sudden silence greeted me.
"Wh-who is there?" The girl had a nice voice. After hearing such unbearable noises come from her throat, I was shocked at how relaxing a sound she produced. She was an alto, and I was certain she could soothe me to sleep with such a sweet tone.
"It is only your neighbor. So tell me, are you enjoying your stay?" I was such a low-life. Why did I insist on pestering the poor girl? She was obviously weathering a harsh day.
"Not particularly. I am sorry for disturbing you. I was uninformed there would be another person inhabiting the dungeon." She was doing everything in her power to hold back tears. Guilt spread through me. Being a prick was apparently second nature to me. This girl was sweet and deserved more kindness than I had offered.
"Pardon my poor manners, mademoiselle. It has been a long time since I've been in the presence of company."
"Yes, I can imagine not many come down here." The obvious pain in her voice was replaced by a rather contemplative tone.
"In all honesty, you are the first person besides me and the guards to be here in many years. This is outrageously out of routine on my end. I can't help but be curious; why are you here?" I waited a long while before she gently spoke.
"That is my business. Some things I wish to keep to myself if you don't mind." This I was not surprised by. There were many things that I would never tell about myself.
"I understand. Please forgive me. I will not pry, but I do expect the same courtesy of you."
"That is fair. My name is Rosalyn. If you like you may call me Rosie. What should I call you?" There's the dreaded question. Should I place trust in this girl? Should I give her my name? She was sitting in the same hell hole as I was. Surely it wouldn't hurt to be acquainted.
"You may call me Erik."
"Well Erik, I am pleased to meet you." Pleased to meet me? Not hardly. If she could, she would leave here without giving a second thought to me. If only this girl knew of the death had by my hands, she would not be so eager to be friends. Of that I was certain. But perhaps it would be good to have someone to confide in. Perhaps then I would find the strength to say no to the shah. Perhaps then I would stop dawdling and finally make my escape.
"Likewise." I would continue my charade and be polite to the girl. That is, until she asked why the guards come to fetch me every night, and why I always return an exhausted wreck. Once she knew the truth of my purpose here, I was sure she would turn from me. In the end, she would leave me. She would be just like everyone else, and I would be sentenced to an eternity of solitude.
