A/N: I've marked off the punishment section for anyone who is worried. This chapter is still important to the story.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
After Abby has been asleep for a few hours, I open her door to check on her. She is lying perfectly still, and her eyes are moving under her eyelids.
She's dreaming.
I quickly put one hand on her shoulder. I know that I shouldn't wake her; she needs her rest. But I also know that the Gypsies will have left her with just as many mental scars as physical.
My fears are confirmed when I feel her silently sobbing beneath me.
"Shh, Abby. Wake up, I murmur, making sure the mask is on perfectly. She may have accepted my face when she first saw it, but a nightmare will only worsen my appearance.
I carefully lift her up so she is leaning against me as I sit down on the bed. "Abby, you need to wake up."
All of a sudden, she jerks away from me. "Abby, it's Erik. Are you alright?"
Abby freezes, then slowly nods. Leaning against me, she traces I'm sorry into my palm.
"Don't be, Abby. I came in to check on you. Would you like to go back to sleep?" She shakes her head, and I help her up.
"Until I fix more of my clothes, you'll have to wear a dress, alright?" She glares at me, shaking her head. Running to my desk, she scribbles something on a piece of paper.
I can't handle it. Wash them, please. She runs back into her room and hands me the bundle of clothes. Considering how little time she spent in bed, the night is young. I agree with a single condition: she must explain why she was wearing a dress when she arrived.
It was all I had time to steal.
"Steal?" I ask, bewildered. Most Gypsy children spend years learning before they get decent, and few can steal anything of value before their tenth birthday.
Abby nods in response to my question, smiling. "There will be no more of that, child. You'd best behave yourself." She rolls her eyes, brushing by me and heading back inside her room (probably to reread her books, I think to myself).
I wash the outfit quickly and hang them next to the fire, wanting to return to my music. I knock on Abby's door to let her know that they're drying, and receive a response of quiet clapping. I sit down at my desk and reach into my pocket for my pen.
It's not there.
I grumble, searching beneath my papers and throwing a few stacks onto the floor. It's still nowhere to be found. I have used this pen for three years now, only using others when the nibs for this one break and I have other sizes ready. But my music has not been written with anything else.
Suddenly, I remember: Abby brushed up against my left pocket when she went into her room. She was mad because I said she had to stop stealing.
She wouldn't dare.
I open her door, hoping that my mask hides my face well enough that she can't see my expression. "Abby, have you seen my pen? I thought I had it." She shakes her head, a flawless look of innocence visible. I almost go back to my desk, but as I turn away, I see her eyes shine.
"Abigail Williams!" I roar, spinning back towards her. She shrinks back against her headboard as I approach, her eyes showing the fear I know she is feeling. She suddenly bolts past me, trying to get away.
"Yeah, you better run," I mutter, jogging after her.
I catch her as she is untying the gondola from its post. Lifting her up with one hand, I throw her over my shoulder and carry the struggling child back to her room.
Punishment begins.
"Quiet, Abigail," I say as I put her down. "I told you what would happen if you continued to misbehave." I give her one swift smack. "There will be more next time." She nods frantically, scrambling away.
Punishment ends.
"Where is the pen?" I ask. She points at the bedside table, and I open the drawer, finding my pen at the front.
"Stay here until I come in. I'll take the books." She nods, handing them over reluctantly.
I walk out, closing the door behind me. I hope that she is still trusting of me.
I work on my music until her clothes have dried by the fire. I believe it has been long enough for her, so I give her the books with her clothes.
Thank you, she writes in my palm.
She still trusts me.
I am about to start breakfast half an hour later when Abby comes out. I look at her. "I thought I said to stay put?"
She nods, but puts her hand out for the pen. I load it with ink before giving it to her.
If you're the Phantom, then who am I?
I look at her, wondering how she learned about me. Antoinette, I think to myself. "Well, who would you like to be, Abby?"
Il Mutor. Yes, with the R. I like it.
The Mute. The Phantom's adopted daughter.
Titles are everything to us.
A/N: I said the misspelling was important, didn't I? Please review!