Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera.

Rosalyn's POV

Time was endless locked away in this cellar. Many nights passed that I did nothing other than try to forget I was surrounded by darkness.

Being half blind, I could not afford to have the rest of my vision stripped from me, so I would close my eyes and imagine the bright sun beaming through my bedroom window. Or I would try to remember my father's cry of delight when I befriended and trained the vicious stray dog that took to frightening the children in our neighborhood. The dog would prowl the block waiting for a suitable victim. It would snarl and growl. It did seem mean, but I knew it was only putting up a front. It had been battered its entire life, the only ounce of sympathy the creature had ever received was when its owner abandoned it. The pooch was killed one week later. At least it died having known one friend…

I couldn't help but compare the boy in the cell next to me, to this pup. True, I didn't know anything about him, but by the way he guarded his heart so heavily, I could only imagine what he had been through.

He didn't do much. Then again, there wasn't much to do here. Nightly, guards would haul him out of his cell and lead him to some unknown place. I wanted desperately to ask him about it, but every night he returned silent and shaking. I would walk across the cell to peer through the diminutive, barred window, and he would be a crumpled mess, sprawled across the cold floor. I always assumed he dozed off.

With the knowledge that he would not reciprocate my unabashed staring, I observed him. Well, I observed as best as I could. I could never make out much, though. The darkness combined with my withering sight was not the ideal setting for me.

He had a thin, yet sturdy, frame with long, lanky legs. Perfect for running about, I was sure. His arms dangled down his sides rather peculiarly, almost lazily. The most bizarre thing about him, however, was his elegant way of perching. He almost always appeared as if he was ready to attack. It was as if he was just waiting to be struck. And he probably was. I was lost in my thoughts, when an unbearably beautiful voice escorted me to reality.

"Have you ever heard the phrase: curiosity killed the cat?"

He had caught me gazing at him, and was no doubt angry about it. Heat rushed to my cheeks. Why do I always have to be overly obnoxious?

"I'm sorry, Erik. I didn't mean to be rude, I am only lonely."

Only lonely? How pathetic was I? He was as alone as I was, and he never complained. In fact, most likely the only reason he conversed with me at all was because there was no one else here. Who would want to be neighborly with a nosy blind girl?

"Rosalyn, forgive me. I have been gawked at many times, but never have I been a prospective companion. I'm afraid I have little to no social skills." His unearthly voice was trained to be monotonous, but when a person relies on her ears as much as I do, you learn to detect undertones.

I was appalled to realize that he was hiding feelings of disgust. Was I really that awful to talk to?

With hurt feelings, I replied cruelly… "I assure you, Monsieur, I couldn't gawk even if I wanted to!"

I turned quickly, not waiting for a reaction.

I knew I had only made matters worse. My insecurities had a way of clouding all reason. Now I was fully spent. I dropped to the ground, not caring in the least that I was still in full view of Erik and wept myself to sleep.


Erik's POV

Rosalyn's words had me reeling. I honestly had not the slightest clue what I had said wrong. I was perfectly polite, even though she was anything but. She admitted to my face that her only reason for speaking with me was because she was desperate. She didn't care who was sharing her cell, as long as someone saved her from her loneliness. How I loathed that word, especially coming from her mouth. She deserved so much better than this. She deserved better than me.

If I had a heart at all, she may as well have thrown it to the lion I killed last week when I saw her petite body shuddering with tears. I used to cry myself to sleep when I was younger, but the older I've become the more I found that my hardened heart would not allow that. There was no point to it really, it didn't change anything. I was still a murderer in the morning.

The fights had been gruesome lately. The Shah was a man of his word, so the night after I killed the lion, I walked into the cage to find a lion and a tiger. The following nights after I defeated both of the creatures, I was practically walking into a zoo every night. I was getting used to this. I was amused by the fact that the Shah seemed to prefer watching me fight animals rather than human beings. I would just have to kill creature after creature. One night it was a bear, the next it was a gorilla, but regardless of how lethal the animal may have been, I had never walked away with more than light scratches and bruising.

Rosalyn never questioned my injuries. When her gaze fell on me, it was almost as if she was looking through me, rather than at me. I attributed that to the darkness of this prison, and thinking about it, that is most likely what she was referring to with her earlier comment. She couldn't gawk at me because it was so damn dark down here!

I felt slightly better after coming to this conclusion. I had feared she meant that I was so unworthy of her, that she wouldn't even throw me a pitying glance. Rosalyn was sweet, though, and after having gone through this together I was certain she would at least acknowledge my existence when we escape.

When we escape? I realized for the first time since she arrived that, I had been subconsciously modifying my plans to include her. No, I would not leave her. I couldn't. She would never survive here on her own. She needed a protector, a defender. I could do that. I could keep her safe.

Feeling light from my newfound purpose, I allowed a small smile to curl my lips. I now had a reason to be here other than to cause pain. I was going to be the cause of good, not evil. This was a task that I was up to, and I knew beyond all reasonable doubt that I would not fail. When I set my mind on something worthwhile, I never failed. Confidence oozed from my pores as I set to conjuring detailed plans. Tonight, something had changed in me. An alien feeling was swirling around my soul. And it was the feeling of… hope?