So, there's 5 chapters in total, all written and ready to go... let me know your thoughts.
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Tugging his coat down over the clothes hook, Booth's ears prick and his neck bristles as the loud, haunting pipe organ overture of The Phantom of the Opera blasts resoundingly through the cavernous walls of his home.
His fear is on instant alert; disturbed by the resonance and volume of the state of the art sound system built into his and Brennan's home; instead of placing his firearms into his safe as he normally would at the end of his working day, Booth reaches for his gun and cautiously releases the safety.
The music is so loud that it slices through his body; the church fuelled base of the overture sends chills down his spine and brings tears unwantedly to his eyes… where is Bones? Where is Christine?
Brennan told him earlier today that she'd had an appointment this afternoon… he wasn't expecting her to even be home but he senses her… and given the human silence, this gut feeling of Booth's, alarms him soul deep.
…
Booth steadies his gun and steps silently through a choreographed sweep of his home… nothing found; nothing obvious downstairs… and still… the reverberating, soul clawing duuuun…dun-dun-dun-dun-duuuun… dun-dunt of the ghostly pipe organ…
As his feet skip hesitantly, one by one, up the stairs, Booth's hair raises with the ethereal resonance of the music… an intense crescendo peaks as the clear voice of Michael Crawford pierces with abandoned passion through the normally calm nature of Booth's home…
"Sing once again with me, a strange duet,
'My power over you, grows stronger yet,
"And though you turn from me,
"To glance behind…
"The Phantom of the Opera is there… inside your mind."
…
A chill runs down his spine as the pieces fall into place in his head… The killings, the rage, the way that the bodies had been disposed, the white masks that covered only the top half of their face… Booth suddenly realises who the Streetwalker Strangler is… he takes the stairs two by two.
...
Shower spraying hotly, Erik's eyes rolled back with a release of pleasure and a decadence filled moan - momentarily sated, he allowed his submissive to rise from her master-given place kneeled in front of his naked body…
Her gaze hesitated, staring intently; curiously just above his lips before she diverted her focus to the soapy water that was swiftly circling the drain.
Noticing the inspecting path of her eyes over his face, he grasped her by the neck and shoved her, forcing her lithe body against the tiles with a thud, "What are you looking at Joy?"
Her water streaked black-lined eyes darted to the tops of his lips before her gaze stalled, "Nothing Erik, I'm just…' she tugged incessantly at his grasp, "I'm just admiring your strength… above me… you make me so wet Erik… you truly do." she hummed nervously; worry bleeding fluently from her eyes.
"Wrong answer, Joy!"
"No!" she shrieked desperately, innately knowing what was coming to her, "No, Erik! Please!" He grasped her solidly by the throat, his eyes black and wide; fingers wrapped behind, his thumb edged higher - intently digging into the sensitive depression where her jaw hovered her throat, "Erik, trust me … trust me, please… I love you Erik, please!"
"I've been watching you Joy…" He snarled, teeth showing, scar flexing above his lips, divulging a ground out long saved promise, "Your eyes give you away, Joy… too much dumb spontaneous spirit… yet not enough… not enough personality… not enough, grit… not enough… kick."
Choking under his unwavering strength, she begged, "No! Erik! No, I swear! I'll do whatever you want…"
He pushed her effortlessly under the spray of the shower, thumb resting tightly over her throat until he slid it up further under her mandible before the thrilling snap of the hyoid and a burning thrashing response of her body. She flailed, wide-eyed under the hot spray of the water, staring him desperately down until her breathing ceased and a vail of peace descended remorsefully over her empty eyes.
Erik smiled over a shudder… his pupils unnervingly black and dilated…
Letting her drop like a magnet drawn to the tiled floor, Erik stepped calmly out of the shower cubical and dried himself off with quiet, confident ease before slipping into bed.
He resolved silently…No-one… NO-ONE will ever see Erik Leroux as ugly or deformed... even though deep within his consciousness he believed himself as unworthy and ugly…
Not one single thought unencumbered by his skin, by his mind or by his body would EVER deem him to be different in a horrible, ugly way… Erik Leroux will take his shame… AND his self-abhorrence… and his power… to his grave.
…and if it takes a blind horde of disrespectful, out-of-line whores to go with him then, he reasoned, so be it… his eyes lightened excitedly at the thought and he chuckled as a sinister verse formed in his mind, "the more whores the merrier… the sprightly a hooker – the more likely I'll burry her."
It's this wistful, callous tune that lulled the third heir to the Leroux throne into a deep unawareness as his subconscious mind came to a justified and clear understanding of his responsibilities… the fact that his clandestine life was about to come unravelled bore no grunt to Erik's reflections as his dreams ghosted blissfully, aimlessly overtop his soul like a dark, rotting stench… thick and permeating.
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