Erik watched Amelia out of the corner of his eye. She had spent the past week pouring over that book, writing and rewriting. It amazed him how much time she spent with it. But it kept her out of his hair while he composed and it kept her whining to a minimum. Amelia glanced up, and when they locked eyes, her face turned a violent shade of red and she quickly buried her face back in the book.

He felt his lips twitch upwards at the sight. Erik had never seen someone so focused on something like Amelia did with her poetry. Perhaps if she spent so much time writing, there was some semblance of talent to be had. Then again, maybe she was just bored. But Erik didn't know; he couldn't get his hands on it to see. Amelia kept hold of it at all times, even hiding it under her pillow when she slept.

Suddenly he shook his head violently. Amelia wasn't a toy for his amusement. She was only here to bait the Vicomte and so far she was failing miserably at that. It had been over a week and a half so far and there was no sign of him. He was starting to get nervous. Barineau would be returning soon and eventually would notice that Amelia was missing, mistress or no mistress.

The lair felt too confining. Erik needed some air. It was time to pay a visit to the managers and check to see how progress was coming on the new production. "I'm going out," Erik announced. "And if you so much as move from that spot, I'll wring your neck."

"Where am I supposed to go?" she asked. "You're taking the boat."

"Do you want me to tie you up again? Because I will," he threatened. Amelia shook her head quickly. "That's what I thought."

When he reached the surface, Erik watched rehearsal from his normal place in Box Five. Opening night was tomorrow and everything needed to be perfect. As he watched, everything seemed to be in place and running smoothly. Good. The managers had learned their lesson.

Erik was just about to head back down when he spotted an unexpected, and frankly, unwelcome surprise. He hissed in frustration as Erik realized Barineau was back already. The Vicomte needed to come soon if he was going to pull this off without Barineau noticing.

As soon as the Phantom climbed into the boat and was out of sight, Mia dropped her book and quickly began exploring, attempting to find another way out. After all, having to paddle back and forth across a lake every time you wanted to leave was impractical. And if the Phantom escaped the angry mob, he had to have another way out.

There were several large red curtains that Mia had always been curious about. Why would he have those? What was he hiding? She pulled one aside only to reveal a broken mirror. The next several were the same thing, nothing but shattered glass that only further broke her hopes for a chance at escape. Mia had just about given up when she glanced behind the last one.

Her heart began to race as Mia realized she had discovered his secret exit. She wasn't sure where it led or whether or not it was safe, but it was her only way out. Would she risk whatever tricks the Phantom had planted in an attempt to get out or take her chances by staying here?

Before she had come to a decision, Mia heard the splash of oars on the water. How had so spent so much time dwelling on what should have been a simple decision? It was too late. If she ran now, he'd know how she had gotten out and would come after her. No, she decided. The next time he left her alone, she'd escape. But for now, Mia knew it was there in case of an emergency.

Just as the Phantom came back into view, Mia sat back in her usual spot and buried her face back in the book, resuming work on her latest poem. He gave her a suspicious look before going back to his organ to continuing to work on what Mia could only assume was an opera of his own.

From what she was learning, surviving the Phantom meant surviving a battle of wits, and if she lost, he hurt her, with the potential for far worse. Well, if was a battle he wanted, it was a battle he'd get. Mia knew if she stood a chance here, she was going to have to get inside the Phantom of the Opera's head.

"Raoul's not coming," Amelia said, never looking up from her poetry.

"I didn't say anything," Erik growled from his organ.

"No, but you're getting tense," she replied. "You're worried that he's not going to show before Gaston returns. Well you're right. He won't. And when Gaston comes home and finds out I'm missing, he'll come for me."

"So you believe," Erik murmured under his breath.

"What do you mean?" Amelia asked.

"Your husband isn't the man you think he is," he answered. "And I highly doubt he's going to drop everything for you." Erik turned around to face her as he thought over her words. "And why are you so confident that your brother won't rescue you from his worst enemy?" He drew himself to his full height over her. "Are you hiding something?"

Amelia's eyes widened and she clutched the book to her chest in fear. She was clearly hiding something. "What did you do?" he screamed. Erik tore the journal from her grasp as Amelia fought to maintain a hold of it. In their struggle, a piece of paper fell from the book.

"No!" Amelia cried as Erik snatched it just before she did. He glanced over it and realized that it was the letter he thought he had delivered to the Vicomte over a week ago. Without even looking at him, Amelia bolted through the passage hidden behind the curtain.

"Get back here you little bitch!" he roared. Erik was determined to rip her limb from limb. Blinded by sheer rage, Erik gave chase. He knew that the passage forked soon. One led outside to the back alley behind the opera, but the other doubled back, taking the long way back upstairs, eventually merging with the passage that led towards the Prima Donna's dressing room. Either way, he needed to catch her before she escaped.

Through most of the passage, Amelia maintained just outside of his grasp. Erik realized that she was going to make it to the Prima Donna's dressing room. But it was a long distance to run and Amelia was winded from going up so many stairs. Just before she reached the mirror, Erik was able to lunge and grab her, clamping his hand over her mouth to muffle her screams. Her fingers just barely brushed against the glass as he yanked her backwards. "They can't hear you," he hissed in her ear. "No one can."

Amelia thrashed in his grasp as Erik dragged her away from the mirror. "Gaston!" she screamed as she saw her husband enter the room, but he stifled her cries.

"Just think, what is your husband doing in another woman's dressing room when he's not supposed to back for a few weeks?" Erik asked, but Amelia struggled against him. "Look!" Amelia went stiff in his arms and fell silent as she saw Violet Alonza in her husband's embrace. "See? He doesn't care. He's not coming for you."

She let out a muffled sob but didn't resume her struggling. Erik dragged her back downstairs, Amelia remaining limp. When they reached the lair, he threw her back on bed. He moved to tie her back up, but Amelia curled up into a ball and began to sob. Instead, Erik backed away and let her be.

As soon as he was back by his organ, Amelia rolled off of the bed. Erik swiped at her, but she dodged him yet again. This time, instead of going to the passage behind the curtain, Amelia ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Erik was about to leave because at least she was contained, when he heard the sound of breaking glass and her sobs intensified. Without thinking, he broke the door down, determined to find out what she was doing. His eyes widened as Erik saw Amelia curled up in a corner, a large glass fragment from a shattered perfume bottle leftover from Christine in her hand, and blood soaking the sleeves of her dress.