ok this is one of the phan phics i am writing. please R/R !
this is set starting the very night that the Opera popylair burns and chrisitne leaves Erik for Raoul. just so you all know. anyways so he chances upon a young girl (7) and saves her from two big guys and takes her in to take care of her. thats the basiic storyline
WARNING: CONTAINS MATERIAL CONCERNING SUDJESTIVE RAPE ( not by the phantom ofcors... he's not evil like that) if these types of things bother you, dont read this. ...........



Pain. Terrible ripping pain that sread from his heart and into his gut. Cold and steady, burning aand flickering. So this was what it was like to loose the one person you loved to another man. Erik found the emotion beyond unpleasant. Not that he had expected it to be when he made the decision to release Christine to Raoul’s care. The Vicomnt was no doubt a wealthy enough man that could provide only the best of care for Christine, but the Phantom man found himself worrying over the emotional care that the man could bestoe upon Christine. Would he love her enough? Would he show her the tenderness she lomnged for? Would he give her music, allow her to trive upon the one thing she loved?

Erik pulled his hood over his face even farther than it had been, to be sure that the milk-white mask was not visible to a nearing citizen. It was cold out, the breeze nipping at his nose, the damp fog of the night dimming and hazing the lit lanternsto light the street. He knew he should not be out here, in the open, among others. But he could care less about what happened to him. All that e cared about was Christine and her comfort….

Turning blindly down an alley way, he made his way into the darker, quieter part of town. Twords the end of the alley, even in his ruined state, the Phanom’s senses jerked in resonse to a barly heard cry. It was distressed, scared, and small. Without thought to common sense, Erik stealthily made his way to the origin of the sound. To his far left, he fund the scource. The form of two burly men we leaning over something, laughing.

“ Given up little one?” one taunted in a gruff voice. “What have ya got for me, eh, yongin’?”

The second man laughed harshly. Erik’s body tensed. They were beating up on some one much smaller then themselves, which anger him all in itself, but then they were heinous enough to go further in their tourturing.

“How’s “bout you show us what you can do, eh, li’el girl, eh? How’s bout you give me a li’el kiss here andshow me what a good girl you are.”

The words struck Erik to the quick. He he didn’t interviene now, the girl would surly meet a horrible fate. A small cry was emitted from the young girl hidden from his sight as he saw the spoken man lean doward. Erik flew into action.

Drawing out his Punjab lasso that he had taken down from the gate that he had almost hung Raoul upon, he flew it high over his head and around the attacking man’s neck. Jerking the rope with all his strentgth, he pulled the man to his back. The second man cried out in pain as Erik took his advantage of surprise and back handed the man, knocking him into the stone wall. A sickening crack told Erik that the blow had cause the man’s head to hit the bricks with quite an amount of force. One hand still gripping the rope that held the first man fast, Erik proceeded to tighten the noose, listening almost in pleasure to the strangling sounds coming from the man. Soon, the sounds stopped, and he was silent.

Erik stood, breathing heavily, He was actually in very good shape, but it surprised him how much emotional pain could take out of you phisically. He looked around himself. Searching the dark around him in hopes of finding the little girl he had rescued. He took a step to his right to look deeper into the darkness, and heard the rustle of clothing in response to his movment. He looked down, his sharp eyes making out the form of a frail girl befor him, in rags. He knelt before the girl, who hid her face in her knees, pulling herself into the tightest ball she could. Erik’s eyebrows pinched together in sympathy, all of his own suffering momentarily abandoned from his mind.

“Ma Chere,” he spoke the French title from “little one”, “I mean you no harm. Please. I want to help you.” He reached out o lift her chin with his hand, but the sound of movement from the large man before her sent he arm flying up to protect her face, her breaths ragged with fear. The Phantom let his arm drop, sighing. “Please madmoselle, look at me. Look into my eyes. I wont hurt you.”

The little girl did not move for a moment but to allow her arm to relax, but then she did look up, her dark brown eyes reflecting his mask in the moonlight. He intook a sharp breath. He had not realized hat his hood had dropped form his head during the fight. He made ot replace it but then stopped himself, afraid any opther movement would frighten the poor girl. Besides that point, she had already seen it, ad looked rather fascinated by it. Was not the point of his mask to guard what lay beneath? He looked into her eyes with his crystal blue ones, not moving, simply staring into the little girl’s doe eyes.

“You see? I wont hurt you.”

The little girl nodded , and to the Phantom’s surprise, he head lolled back, he head making a dull thud against the wall she sat against. Erik squinted at her, attempting to figure out the girl’s motive. Her eyes were closed, her mouth having fallen slightly open, her breath still torn, and uneven but not quick. Assured that she had either fallen asleep or fainted, Erik slipped his arms around the doll like body, surprised and concerned at how thin around she was, at her barley measurable wheight. Christine had whieghed so much more than that, and she herself had been light….

Pain seared once again trhough Erik’s heart like a stab trough th main organ with a red hot spear. He was blinded for a moent with memeory…..



Christine’s face poured with tears, the sorrow in her eyes painful to erik, but e would not give in. He would have her for his bride.



Angel of music,

You deceived me

I gave you my mind blindly.



Erik jerked the Punjab lasso, hearing Raoul choke at the motion.



“You try my patience. Make your choice!” his voice was harsh and ruff, hurt and desperate.



Erik was shaken back to the present when the child in his arms shifted slightly, then moaned in discomfort in her sleep. Again, worry for the little one took over and he rushed away with her.



* * *

It had pained him to return to his destroyed hoem beneath the paris opera house, but where else was he to go with a child in need of food and shelter, and possibly medical care?

He had snuck back in from the south entrance that he had rarly ever used for lack of need, entering through a trap door, then carrying the little one through the labyrth of corridors, along side the cannals of water that ran through the lower parts, flooded years before Erik had come to live there.

Nearing his lair, he listened carfully for any noise that would betray the mob that they were still ran-sacking his home that he had worked so hard to create. Everything he seemed to care about was beng torn down around him all for the love of one woman who had refused to love him back. Shaking his head and refusing to allow memory at this point, he strained his ears. Not a sound came from his lair. Assured of its safety, he found the hidden gondola and lay the girl within I gently, afraid o wake her, and stepped in himself, picking up the long log he had carved into a creation used to push the gondola through the water easily, and began to glide the baot twords his trashed lair. The grate had remained open, and he pushed through effortlesslely, then shored the gondola and carried the girl, making his way through the dark into the room where the swan bed was settled, and layed her just as gently into the bed as he had done with Christine once.



“Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dream

Purge all thoughts of the life you knew before.

Let you soul take you where you long to be

Only then can you belong to me…”



But Christine would never belong to him,, abd that he had to accept. He shoved the thoughts away as he searched for a match.

He lit a few candles near the bed so that he could see if the girl really was wounded. He lit the last candle aflame, then turned toinspect the girl. A deep anger surged through him harder and colder, twords the men he had saved her from. There was a long gash along the girl’s cheek, her dress slit open, clearly with a knife half way down the front, a skimming scratch following the cut line of material, her arm bruised paifully in the markings of a large male hand. A deep sorrow for this girl iced it’s way to his gut as he reached out and gently truened her head so that the let side of her face was visible. As he had expected, the was a dribble of blood coming from the cornor of her mouth, and her eye was already turning purple. His eyes drifted dreadingly down her body, the poor thing’s rag dress revealing skinny legs that sported many lacerations and scars.

No, he hresolved. He could not allow himself to die just now. Not when he had this girl to care for, when she needed him so desperately. Mabe later, after he had cared for and allowed the girl t leave, mabe then he ould give himself over to the darkness, but for now, he would force himsleve to live.




PLEASE COMMENT AND GIVE ME TIPS IF YOU FEEL I NEED THEM... cant get better without them...ecept dont tel me i cant spell, cus i already know that, but really the mis spelling is cus i'm typing really fast cus my mind goes like 80,000 miles an hour so i dont have time to fix it lest i losse the thoughts running throo my brain. lol

so should I continue posting more? please tell me yes or no! i HAve alot more written but i dont want to post more if ppl ant gonna read it
your obidient servent ,
Phantom_luv

that was pretty good!! i really interested in where you are planning on take this story!! please continue!

I love the story so far!! It really has a great beginning and you should totally keep going....can't wait to hear more!!

Post more...please!

I like it please continue!

Erik growled lightly, rubbing the blotting the ink out on the music sheet. The music just wasn’t flowing.. the notes didn’t have the rhythm that he wanted… it was choppy… cold, no emotions attatched. The Phantom shook his head harshly. How could the emotion NOT be coming through? The emotions of raw pain, and swirling confusion were spiraling within him, and he couldn’t make the music feel the emotion…it just wasn’t working! With another growl, he snatched the paper up from the oak desk and tore at it, ripping it in his immense anger. A quiet moan, barley detectable, came from the room up the stairs. Erik’s acute ears honed in on the sound. It was the girl. He was waking her in his loud action of tearing paper. He stilled, allowing the bits of shredded paper float from his hands to his ground, , then help his face in his hands, resting his elbows upon the dark desk, sighing. Breathing deeply, he worked to calm himself, then looked up, running his hand through his aburban wig, it’s authentic hair smooth under his fingers. The wig had been costly but it was entirely worth it’s whieght in francs, becoming like the real hair he had never had, coving his thin, blond hair that receded high onto his scalp on the right side. A second moan from the girl brought him to the surface of his conscience.

Standing, he rose to his daunting six foot two height, and trotted up the short stair, pausing in the door way, observing the frail child laying among the lush red velvet sheets. Her tangled, mouse brown hair was spread about her head, accenting the bruise around her eye. Her brow furrowed, discomfort obvious in her youbng face and she shifted in her sleep. Erik’s own eyebrows came together in a sever v above his cool blue eyes, the crystline orbs glazed with sorrow and contained fury. He breathed deeply, and entered the room, and strode to the bed side table, where he kept a cloth, pitcher, and bowel of water. He dipped the cloth into the bowel of clear water and then squeezed the cloth so that it remained damp, but not sopping. He lay it gently upon the girl’s twisted brow, and sat on the beside, with yet another sigh, wishing there was something he could do to relieve the girl’s pain. He was sure that there was more extent to her indjuries than he was awar, beneath the clothes, but he dare not remove them. He had cleaned her obvious wounds, but was uncomfortable with the thought of removing the young girl’s clothes to clean any others. If he were any other man, he would know exactly what to expect,but…..

His life of persecution had deneyed him the joys of the flesh. He had never know a woman, never gazed upon the naked beauty of a woman. And as much as he wanted to help this girl, he was terrified of discovering the one thing he could not have, and would never have. Not that he thought that he would turn into one of the monsters that had hurt her, but he had unexplainable fear that refused to allow him to strip away the dirty rags that the girl wore.

He had so horribly wanted to touch Christine, to feel her skin and savor her kiss, and yet, he had never thought of how he would react if the time had ever come when he was allowed the privalge of her skin. Not that he ever thought that he would have it… he had sparked on it ever so briefly when he had sung the duet with her upon the stage licked with fake flames of red material, mounted upon a high bridge. She had been such a beauty in her panish stylixzed costume, so gorgeous….



When will the blood begin to race?

The sleeping bud burst into bloom?

When will the falmes atlast consume us?



The entered the bridge together, Erik hardly daring to hope that that seductive toine of voice that Christine was wearing so broadly was genuine. The strode slowly twords one another, singing in perfect unison, perfect rhythm, so much so united in song he was sure that their hearts were beating toether.



Past the point of no return

The final threshold

The bridge is crossed

So stand and watch it burn!

We’ve past the point of no return…”



…Erik jerked out of memory, to find himself some length of tunnels down from his lair. He had not noticed that he had continued to stride down the stairs and even out of his lair, blinded by thoughts. He shook himself, mentally and physically, forcing his thoughts clear of his mind and focusing on what he would do when the little girl woke up. Hipefully he could help her find her family again. But until she woke up, there was little he could do.



* * *

“Aren’t you cold?”

A tiny voice from behind Erik spoke, startling him. He turned sharply, with an intake of short breath. The recused girl stood atleast a horse length away from him, looking at him hesitantly. He hadn’t even heard her pad up behind him, which surprised him more than anythinmg. There were few people that could sneak up on him. He scolded himself for not answering her, and worked to put a kind smile on his face.

“No, but then I am wearing a coat, aren’t I?” he answered gently. “And you standing there in just rags. Here,” he offered, shrugging off his black tailored coat and holding it out to her from his seat on the bench. The girl flinched back, stumbling over her own unsure feet and falling squarly on her rump. He moved quickly to help her up, but she cringed up against the rise of rocks. He sighed, leaning back.

“I’m not going to hurt you Ma chere,” he assured her, laying his coat on his lap and holding up his hands to show he mwnt no harm. “ I only want to give you my caot, if your cold.”

The light burnet stared at him, fear dimming from her eyes, but still skimming them. The Phantom looked at her, holding her gaze, watching her search his eyes. It was rather uncomfortable, unsure of what she might see in his eyes, how much his clear blue depths might reveal about him, but he dare not break her gaze, unwilling to give her the idea that he was untrustworthy. They stayed like that for the majordy of ten minutes, and, as tiring as it was, erik felt the satifaction that it brought as the fear left her eyes almost entirely, however much they remained haunted.

Slowly, causiously, with shaky legs, she rose and took a tentative step twords him. Erik sat statue still, unsure of how any movment may cause her to react, afraid that scaring her in any way, would bring another long time of eye searching, which, he found was rather errrie. Her eyes were deep, and would take much longer to decifer, but he didn’t want her intruding on his feelings any more than she already had in those long eternities of staring. Now standing infront of him, the girl simply looked at him, waiting, unsure and ready to flee; he could see it in her stance. He looked at her with his brows sewn up in a sympathetic expression.

“Do you want the caot, madmoselle?” he questions softly. The girl nodded belatedly, and reached slowly, meeting his hands half way to hnd her the black coat, then snatched the material quickly and backed away slightly. He smiled as she wrapped it around herself without putting her scrawny arms in the sleeves, bringin it up to her ears, snuggling in it’s warmth. A mile played on her own lips, savoring the sensation of warmth, which, he figured, was a rare luxury for her. Erik bit back a luag when he scanned her image. The coat tials came down just past her knees, the shoulder not even half way filled out, drooping down. She looked at him greatfully.

“Thankyou,” she whispered, her eyes unsure of how she felt twords him. Erik smiled.

“Think of it no more, little flower,” he smiled gently, but not too wide. He was still walking on eggs; one step wrong could send her fleeting away again. “What’s your name, ma chere?” the girl studied him thoughtfully, her doe eyes considering her answer, it was obvious. After a moment, she said quietly,

“ Margariete.” She shuffled her feet. “But everyone calls me Maggie.”

“and which would you prefer I call you, little flower?” Erik asked, testing his grounds. The little girl looked at him for a long while, gazing, thinking, and then suddenly, tears welled in her eyes. The Phantom’s breath caught, usure of what to do. He stared into her eyes that were glazed with tears, wanting to bite his lip. She was closing him out, shutting the gate that had been opened momentarly; he could see that in her eyes. They became blank and cold. Shaking her head, she fled up the stair,s coat and all, falling onto the bed.

Erik watched her, but decided it was best not to follow her. Se need time alone, it was clear, and for now, so did he.


* * *
The night had passed with only an short hour of sleep for erik. The Phantom had attempted to find peace after waking from the shot nap by fingering the keys on his pipe organ, but did not press them, stroking their length, imagining their sound in his mind, silently playing a favorite tune, as not to disturb the child. He leaning into the movments of his arms, feeling the music only he could here. It was morning before he realized that he had copletly lost himself in his mind, and in the process, mangaged to go a whole night without a thought to Christine. A short flash of her terrified face just after she ripped off his mask flashed before his mind’s eyes, making him shudder. Banishing the sight, he once again began to sink inot the depts of his own mind again, again arunning his long fingers alog the keys.

“Please monsuir, do you really play?”

Erik sighed gently, relief flooding through him. The child was still comfortable enough to speak to him. He turned, observing the little one before him. She looked no different phiscally than she did when he had rescued her, but there was something about her manor that was different, less frightened. Still, werriness glazed her eyes. She stared pointedly at Erik’s chest. Erik shut his mouth, which he had opened to answer and looked down to see what had caught the girl’s attention so. He almost could have kicked himself whn he saw that he had allowed his shirt to loosten from his wasteband, giving the material the freedom to lay open, baring most of his broad chest. He did not blame her for being uncomfortable with the sight of a ma’s skin but for face and hand. He held up one finger to signal her to give him a moment, turned his back and reagranged his sirt so that it closed near the base of his throat. He turned to face her now, and her eyes relaxed, releasing the tension within him.

“You aksed if I play,” he reminded her, motioning to the pipe organ at which he was seated. “I do. As well as the piano, hard, violin, cello, flute… there are many things that I play.”

The girl… Margariete? … nodded then widened her eyes with more and more with each instrument he listed. He smileda t the amazment on her young, wounded face. Little did she know just how much free time he had had on his hands over a life time of lonliness.

“would you like me to play…Margariete?” he hesitated at using her name and put a questioning tone in his voice, asking permission to address her with her name. She simply nodded, and sat on the bench at his desk, cocking her head, waiting. Erik nodded and faced the organ again and began to play a song of his own compostion, from his opera, which he had been working on for years, Don Juan triumphan, which had finally been performed on the disaterous day that had ruined anything and everything good in his life. Ironically, the opera had not even been finished but had only gotten to the second song.

He swayed to the music, enveloping himself in the rapture, losing himself in the quietest sng thatvhe had wirrten for is masterpiece, a lullaby, almost, that his lead female sang, the words playing out in his head. Finally, he ended, and sighed with familure comfort. Slowly, he twisted to see Margariete’s reaction. The youth was in complete amazment, her face frozen in a look that told him she was impressed. But did she like the composition? That’s wat he was looking for.

“You approve, little flower?”

“Yes, monsuire!, yes!” she assured him. She looked down with a hesitant look on her face, her shoes suddenly extremely fascinating.

“What is it little one?” erik asked gently, perring at her, but refraining from lifter her chin, afaid to touch her. She looked up at him, biting her lip.

“Would…would youb play it again Monsuire?” Erik smiled softly in relpy.

“Ofcorse madmoselle…and please,” he assured her. “Call me Erik.” The girl’s face remained passive now, and gave only the slightest of nods to agnolage is comment, the look in her eyes still caustious. Erik smiled now to himself, a genuine smile, one that he had not had on his face for so long he’d forgotten how wide it spread. Breathing deeply, he began to play again, his body rocking with the flowing notes.


* * *

The girl had settled quietly enough that night, sleeping soundly without any moan of pain for atleast two hours before he had decided that a few hours for sleep himself couldn’t hurt. He’d taken to watching the girl from afar, offering things to her silently, and moving carefully, roughening his panther like grace slightly. He had found that we he moved in his easy, lengthy liquid movement, the girl became moreand tended to cuddle in corners until he stopped moving. For one reason or another, the easy predator like movements frightened her. Realizing this, Erik had taken to making his movements more predictable, moving slowly and with precision so that she knew what he would do next. To his relief the girl had become less wiry around him when he made this change, and spoke short sentences from time to time. Sometimes they were simple things such as requesting a drink or food. Othertimes she would make little sounds, just to let him know that she was still there. However there were times when she would speak in a haunted midnight voice, stating things that he rather wished she wouldn’t.

"Something happened here," her voice was black velvet, deeper and smoother than her child like voice that she normally spoke in. she stood at the rise of rocks, looking over the green lake, her chocolate brown eyes fixated on the iron gate. "Pain. It’s still here. Fresh."

With that, the youth turned and walked up the stairs and entered the upstairs room. No question, no inquiries. She didn’t barge,didn’t ask for details, which in a way, was worse than digging into the fresh wound that lay open Erik’s heart. It was a simple reminder, cold and desolate, of what had happened recently. Erik’s heart wrenched at the flash memory of Christine’s agony torn voice, tears choking the angel’s vocals. Anger surged through him as he recalled the viscount’s please for Christine to forgive him for failing her rescue.


Christine, Christine, please forgive me,

I did it all for you

And all for nothing…."

Erik fixed the Punjab lasso around Raoul’s neck with a furious will. How dare he beg forgiveness of Christine! Te frivolous boy should have been begging for the Phantom’s forgiveness, not otherwise such as he was! Slipping the length of rope into a square space in the iron gate to which Erik had tied Raoul, he pulled the noose snuggly around the boy’s neck, listening in pleasure to his gagging response.



Erik forced his focus onto the young girl as she had walked up the few stone steps. He sighed in slight relief. He was finding that fixating his mental focus on the girl fled the memories from his mind for atleast a short amount of time, and for now, it was all that he could ask for.



For the first time in days, Erik slept deeply, comfortably- well, as comfortable as one could be sleeping in an armchair. He had allowed the girl to continue to sleep in the bed and found it was best to say nothing to her unless she said something to him. But now, finally, after a week of caring for the girl, Erik found that he could no longer deny himself sleep. He had settled in a large chair that a manager of the theatre from a few years back had throw out in perfectly good condition, and Erik had gathered up for himself. The quarter hour struck softly in the back of his lair by the sounding of a small clock that Madam Giry had been kind enough to buy for him upon his request. Assuring himself that he could spare just a little bit of waking time for the comfort of black oblivion, for Margariete never woke before the toll of six o’clock in the a.m., he closed his eyes and slept.

Margariete blinked her eyes heavily in the soft orange glow of the candles set upon the candelabra frame near the red velvet clad bed in which she had fallen asleep. She stretched lesuirly, enjoying the feel of the oversized cotton nightwear as it ran over her fidgeting body. Never had she felt anything so comfortingly soft upon her skin in all her short seven years. Even when she lived in a house, with a family, commodious clothes were an unheard of thing. Money for food was far more important.

The man- Erik, he had called himself- that was caring for her, had given her fresh clothing for her choosing once she had become well enough to change for herself. All the clothes had been many sizes too large, but she cared naught for it, and did not question where he had gathered the clothes from. She was not sure that she wanted to know. She had found truth to be a hurtful thing, and had discovered it far too many times in her life for her to wish to seek it out.

The sleepiness had now worn out of her deer wide eyes and she found herself well rested, although still sore, and felt rather fidgety, no longer caring to stay in the bed, no mater it’s cozy accommodations. Walking quietly with bare feet that made no noise in the rugged carpet lay down in the room, she made her way to the yawning entrance of the upstairs. She surveyed the small home of Erik, feeling the slight dampness in the air due to the misty lake that faced it on her skin, the candles that he kept ever lit illuminating the man that slept in a large chair in the left corner of the room, just next to his pipe organ. His masculine features on the visible left hand of his face were smooth with sleep, his lips just barley parted, his breathing easy and silent. He had rapped a silken sheet around his large frame, still clothed fully in his gentlemanly clothes. She had noticed long ago that she never saw him without such, and rarely without a coat tail jacket to top the outfit off. Despite his carefulness to remained fully dressed around her, he had shifted in his sleep, the clothes tugging across his chest, emphasizing muscles that made her slightly uncomfortable.

He seemed gentle enough towards her, but there was something predatorily dangerous about this man that wore an alluring milk white mask. As much as it may have intrigued another’s curiosity, she found she had no piticular draw to know what lay beneath the mask; to her it was simply part of the creature that was Erik. His strength was something that she had come to fear not because he had at any time used it against her, but because of the hands that had borne strength against her from which Erik had saved her. But something in the easy way he moved, the effortless way he had ridden the men from earth, brought to her a natural fear, and yet intruigment. But no matter how much Erik had been cautious never to touch her unnecessarily, never to draw to close to her bruised body, she found herself uncomfortable in the presence of the silky way he strode and moved about his home, which, she had appropriately named in her mind, his Lair. It had been a fitting title for the place, the definition being the home of a wild animal.

Instinct had her curling in the farthest parts of the lair when Erik moved restlessly about the cave like home, unsure of what he was about to do next, fear over riding logic that told her that he had not yet, and more likely then not, never would, hurt her in any way. She had noted that he became rather unsure of himself when he caught notice of her constant hiding, and his movements became slower and easier to see what his limbs’ next destination was. She had become more easy in this new Erik’s company, and found herself, though never allowing him to come too close, easily moving about the lair herself, confident that she could hear Erik’s movements around her.

Now she stood next his sleeping form, having softly pattered down the stone steps and to his side. Never before had she allowed herself this close to the creature that seemed to be one with the darkness, with the night. Her heart was beating in a slightly heavier and quicker fashion in her chest, and in the depths of her mid stomache, she felt a ball of tingling sensation that she always felt when she was afraid. Despite her dread that was spreading through her, she could not pull herself away. His mask shone brightly in the candle light, but she paid it no mind. His smoothly shaved cheek was what drew her attention, which seemed odd, even to her. But she couldn’t resist reaching out her hand to whisper her index finger across the slightly pale skin, feeling the texture of the not yet visible beard that was just coming through the skin only for Erik to shave off. The skin was not warm beneath her fingers, but niether was it deathly cold. It was cool, kept slightly heated by the candles near him. Her finger skimmed lightly across his jaw, barley touching it from time to time but all the same following the definate line of his chin, then stopping to just bareley inspect the cleft chin slightly closer. She had never been so close to a man in such gently close proximity, but his features were entirely absorbing of her interest. The dip in his chin was an utter mystery to her, a feature she had never before seen on a man, which she assumed, meant it was a rare characteristic.

The girl leaned forward shakily, her heart now racing in her chest, and her legs instinctivley ready to run, but locked her eyes on the details of the contours of Erik’s chin.

With a movement so quick, so easy, Margariete did not even had time to gasp, Erik had grasped her wrist roughly, knocking her away and onto the floor before leaping up from the chair disregaurding his sheet and standing with his hand holding his mask securley in place. Terror rose up in Maragriete’s chest and she huddled, drawing into herself as she had the first time that she had seen Erik’s face floating before hers. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she gasped for air, a ball tightening in her throat, making it so utterly hard to breath. She stared up at the man that had cared for her these past days now with a fresh horror, despairing in the knowlage that, even he too, could throw her aside without a thought, or indjure her farther on a whim. Had her mind not been fixed on watching his movments, she would have wondered why his hand had so desperatly continued to cling to his mask.

Erik’s eyes widened in realization that it had been not an intruder, or even christine that had been so close to removing his mask, but little Margariete, who now gazed at him in utter fear. A cold agony spiraled down into his core as he looked at her just waiting for a blow from his hand that had thrown her away so violently. It was all too much like the occurances with Christine, his flinging her away in fear that his scarring deformation would be revealed. He had been able to redeem himself just enough to gain confidence over Christine then, but now looking at Margaritete, he was not sure that forgivness would come so easily from her. His breathing was harsh with guilt and utter disguist with himself. He looked away, letting his hand drop from his cold mask and to his side with a heavy sigh. She was only a girl, too young to understand what hid behind the mask. And it had only been in instinct that he had thrown away the hand – no, the body- that was so near to his own, so close to his secret. He turned slowly to the girl, his movements no longer requiring attention to be jagged and irregular.

Margariete looked at him with tears flooding down her young, gaunt cheeks, her healing black eyes puffy from the salty drops of water leaking from it, and making her look deformed herself, and erik hated himself for it. He crouched low before her, meeting her eye level though his knees screamed in protest of the tight posistion in which he held himself. She cringed away, with a small gasp, her eyes sqeezing shut for amoment before opening again to stare at him in aching breaths that tore him to the quick.

"Please, Margariete," he he said with a soft, shaking voice that he could not control. "I ment you no harm. I never did. I thought you were another, and instinct took over." The youth shook her head vigerously and said with a quaking voice,

"Please, don’t. Don- don’t touch me. Get away."

Erik’s eyes welled desperatly with tears themselves, but he dare not let them fall. He would not show weekness to this girl who needed a strong stone in her life where she had none before.

"Please,Margareite- Maggie.." his voice was raturously shaking almost to a point where he could not decipher his own words. Margariete took a shuddering breath and pulled away even more, drawing back into herslef all that she had revealed about herself before.

"Don’t call me that! All you want is my body!" she screamed, rage seemingly fresh in her voice, though erik painfully guessed it had been there before longing to be released. "That’s all men ever want!"

The words stabbed Erik through and he nearly gagged on their meaning. Never, would he inflict such pain upon this girl that had come into his life so abruptly, and, surprising himself, he had come to care for so deeply. Yet she knew nothing else, had known nothing else.

"I would never hurt you, Margareite," he begged with a choking voice. "Have I ever layed an ill meaning hand upon you?"

The girl glared at him with sheening eyes, rage shooting from them like darts into his soul.

"And yet you so easily thow me aside in instinct! How am I to know that you would not just as easily hit me when your mad?" her voice was so childlike, her wording changing from the vocabulary of one much older than she to the child that lay within but was rarley shown. Erik looked down in silence at a loss as to what to say. Finally, he looked up at her agan, stinken momentarily at the anger and bordering fear towards him that surrounded her meek body.

"I will make a pact with you," he promised in a rough, but more steady voice. " If I ever lay a hand upon you in any way but to help you, I swaer to you that you may go free, without prohibitation in any way, if you in return promise to stay with me and care for you until you are fully well."

The distrust in her eyes betrayed to him that she didn’t believe he would follow through with his promise before she spoke her spitting words.

"I don’t really have a choice do I?"

Erik’s body shook in a swirl of utterly dispairing emotions as he rose, watching with regret as he saw her scuttle back slightly, studying the movement of his feet, as though he might kick her. He backed away from her, his body in a submissive possion, shoulders slightly hunched, head down.

"You are free to leave when you please ma chere, but do not doubt that you are safer here then on the streets."

Moving as though his limbs were made of lead, he drug himself to his organ and sat upon the bench heavily, hjis hands on the wood beside him, his head heavily down as though weighted down by a ship ancor. Behind him, he heard the hurried movments as margariete fled to the upstairs room, but his ears heard no trace of her tumbling into the bed, but rather picked up the sound of her small body slamming agaisnt the farthest wall, and the soft sounds of her stifled sobs of pain and fear.




i've got more but i''l but more up after i get sum reviews!!
R?R PLEASE.
if you have sudjestions MAKE THEM. thanks all!

I lovely! I love it! Please write more!

very good! Write more!!

that was awesome!!!! write more please!

i really like your story! Please post more!!!

thanx all i will post as soon as i can get to the other comp. prob by the end of the day so check it daily. i have quite a bit written. i was wondering should i continue with really LONg entries or make thm shorter?

i was so happy whn I found out there's another teen writer on this site! everyone seems to be adults, and while i'm more comfortable hanging with adults i was happyto find that there are other teensout there liem me that can hang with adults:) I guess shes 15 and I just turned 16 so we're pretty much the same age too! :) ok, me shuttin up
more comming by the end of the day i promise!

I like the story a lot, its very good
I'm interested in reading more

sorry i will be posting more later....havnt had time and dont have time now sorry!
i'm off to a musical theatre program i just got into!

Omg this story is so discriptive! Description makes stories so much better and yet I have so much trouble describing things in my story *sigh* but yours rocks please do go on.

WOW! I really like your story! Please go on!

That was absolutely wonderful!
I loved it so much!
Please do continue!

Your Obediant Friend and Angel
P.R.L

Please Due Continue! I really like how descriptive you were and how this story is building in suspense!

I'm liking it so far! Please continue!

Ok thankyou all for the encouragement. please keep the reviews comming and give me any tips for ideas of where to go with the story if you have any really good ones and tips if you feel there's something I should fix about my writing....except spelling! :)) here's the next part


Erik pounded out the notes of the theme song that he had composed for his Don Juan Triumphant, angrily slamming his feet down on the worn petals of the organ, his fingers aching from the constant wear that he had put them through the past night. He had discoverednow his only way to escape his mind was to fall into the rhythm of the vibrating sounds emitted from the organ’s pipes, the harrowing notes souring and thundering through the small cavern. There was nothing but the lightning sounds coursing through his veins like fire searing through his soul, his eyes closed so that he saw nothing, heard nothing, but the pure passion that wrought it’s way out of his mind and into his fingers pouring out over the ivory key board. It was all or nothing with Erik. Everything in his life had been all or nothing. Pain or complete and total emptyness, pure estatic joy, or white hot rage. Complete rapture in music, or no sound at all. It was all for something or nothing for nothing. Everything had a reason and out, cause and conciquence. Everything had a price. Everything. His face; a life of hatred. Music; His soul’s only comfort. Christine; an eternal slash across his soul’s fragile heart. Margareite; once again misunderstood, but this time the misconception was brought upon himself. Everything has a price.

Maragarieite sat huddled agaist the stone wall, wincing as the hard music rang thpough her ears, the wall vibrating behind her, quavering her body. Somehow, the music comforted her though. It was as though it was expressing the pain inside her, relieving her of the duty of expressing the pain, sorrow and dispair that wrought within her little body. It was so cold, so bone chillingly cold, her skin raising in goose bumps on her arms and any other part of her body revealed to the cool, damp air around her. Earlier she had stripped off her long sleeved layer, knowing that when she lay down in the bed she would be covered by the satin blankets. She had not thought to slip the longer robe on when she had approached the sleeping Erik in her one, vital mistake that had cost her everything she had gained. Now she shivered uncontrollably, but was unwilling to move, fearful that the movement might cause a distraction for Erik from his music, and therfore angering him. She did not want to chance making him angry and this time have his rage lash out at her.
She shuddered at the memory of the tone of his begging voice, pleading with her to forgive him. But it was too soon. He was asking for the one thing that she could not yet give to any man that so much as make her feel the slightest bit uneasy. They were all the same. Cold, lying, unfeeling bastards that wanted more that she was willing to or should have to give. Some just took her without thought, without warning, slapping her into scilence, others taking longer, biding their time until the knew that could come close enough that she would not fight until it was too late. She did not understand the need or the use of this hurt. A man’s shaft sheething inside a woman’s body. It hurt so much….it was always harsh and tearing…it was always painful. The horrid feeling of the men inside of her, moving above her…all of this, and she still did not yet figure out how any of it worked, why any of it worked, and why it cost her so much pain and pieces of her soul that were ripped from her each time a male slammed himself into her. She had thought for a time mabe, just mabe if se could understand why then mabe it wouldn’t hurt as much. But no matter how much she tried to puzzle it out, all she could focus on was the ain, the agony, and the realization that she was just there for their use.
She wanted to forgive Erik, but she couldn’t , and after seeing that terrible rage flash in his eyes and the way he so effortlessly threw her aside, she was terrified one day she might provoke his anger even further. When she had spoken so harshly to him, she had been sure that he would back hand her, but seemed to have no control over her mouth and what came out of it, like she was just a ghost of herself watching her body fight back where she never could. She couldn’t look at erik as he had spoken to her in that shaking, choking voice. If anything, she was sure that it was his pleading voice that had sent her into an uncontrollable rage. A man, asking for her forgiveness when men took so much from women? It was like stealing something from your best friend and then asking for their forgivness while refusing to give back what you stole.
It was all utterly usless. All of it. She didn’t even know what she had to live for anymore. She was certain that sooner or later she would become erik’s exclusive pet. It was inevitable. She was there, trapped in his home not knowing the way out with no one to help her. There seemed to be no other option.
In her pain and anger, she had forgotten how Erik had come about taking her in.


Erik slammed his hands down on no piticular notes upon the milkuy white keys beneath his fingers in utter rage at the world, the organ portruding a hidious mixture of mis-matched notes. Finally, after a full night or playing the music in an attept to soothe his soul, Erik slumped, defeated, his breath harsh as he emmited half sobs, his eyes dry from tears. The world was a hidious place, and the people in it were horrendous creatures to do such things to a child. He himself had eperienced the world’s cruelty at a young age first hand, but never would he know exactly what this child must have been through. It had not occurred to him tat she might have been advanced upon before his rescuing her, but now the supicion stung at him that she might have been forced more than once into a grown man’s bed. In which case, that would explain the scars that resided upon her arms,legs, shoulders, and even one he had noticed one day, upon her neck; a thin pearl coller around the thin width of her young neck, looking suspiciously like the skin had been rubbed raw by something placed around her neck. He had been shocked when he had noticed it two days ago hen the girl had stretched, allowing her head to fall back and reveal her neck. But at the time he had simply refused to accept that some one had done that purpousfuly to such a tiny little thing without defense, that perhaps she had come across the indjuries by accendent, knowing that life on the street for the poor was nt safe, especially fo a child. But now he was coldly aware that the marred skin may have been linked to something else other than street dangers.
In the next room up the stairs he knew sat a hurting child that needed guidence to understand that not every male was evil, that not all males lived simply to rape young girls. But now it had quickly become apperent to him that that was her only experience with men, and it ripped him through the gut like a fire hot sword tearing through his belly. It was no wonder that she had been so extrmemly terrified of any unexpeccted movements. He had thought before that it was just immidiate fear caused by the men who had been beating on her whne her has saved her, and that she would grow comfortable with men again in time. But it was so much more than that. So very much more. It seared him like a hot coal dropped down his thraot when he thought the amount of just what he was unaware of that dappled her life with horror. And he wasn’t sure that he wanted to find out. What he did need to find out now, was what he could do to earn back the girl’s trust.
Moving carefully, easily, he made his way to the bedroom in hopes of mabe sitting on the opposite side of the room until the girl became accostomed to his presence again. But upon reaching the door, his eyes fell up the girl in the farthest cornor of the room, her body curled up, her hands over her head, gripping locks of her marmalade brown hair. But she was no longer weeping, and by th sound of her breaths and the up and down movement of her body, Erik was sure she cried herself to sleep. His throat gripped once, tightly, at the knowlage that he had caused those tears. Inspecting her body more closly, he could see tat she was shivering,, and in paying the tempature of his lair special attention, noted that the stoen caver had become rather cold over night. He longed to gather her up and place her in the bed, wrapping warm sheets around her trembling body. But he feared what terror his touch might instill in the girl, and hestitated with his decition.
After a moment of thought, Erik gather a number of cherry red velvet balnkets from the bed and strode over silently to Margarieite’s sleeping form. Carfully, he lay the sheet over her, tucking the edges in deftly, cautious not t touch her body in more then a feather light glance as he did so, thn stood, observing his work. Sufficient enough without waking her and scaring the poor child, he decided. It would keep her warm until she woke. Nodding in an attempt to make himself feel better in the knowlage thatvhe atleast had given the girl a small comfort in one way, he walked to the other end of the room at lit two candlabras in hope that the flames woukld warm the room, then sat, in an intircatly carved wooden chair agaist the far wall, but placed so that he could still see the girl, and sighed dispairingly. He just hoped beyond hope that he could gain back the – affection? No that wasn’t the right word. He had ever seen any proof that the girl felt any affection towards him. Trust maybe; Yes, that was the right word, trust- that he had earned before.

It's like a poem... a beautiful poem.

ohhh..this is so good. you use alot of good description. please go on!

What happened to the rest!! I want to know what happens!

“ time erases ememories… but not the ones you want to get rid of….funny how that works, isn’t it?”
Margareiete couldn’t remmeber where she had heard the words, but she found them so true, even at her young age. But then, at this point in her life, they wernt ememories.. they were living nightmares waiting for their next chance to spring. And that next cahnce to live or die in Erik. All in all, her fate came down to Erik, and it terrified her. He had only proven himself more unpredictablethan before, and now she was not sure in any way what his motives were.
Her eyes were open, but her face was hidden in the shaddow of her arms, gaurding her in darkness it seemed. Ah, to be enveloped by darkness was a mercy she reveled in. It was so easy to momentarily give herself over to the darkness, to be enbraced by the black oblivion without sight, thought…or feeling.
NO, not without feeling. As much as she wanted to numb the emotions that constantly coursed through her seven year old body, hate pain, fear, none of it ever ceased to plauge her.

Erik sat in the chair across the room, had been sitting for qite a time, watchingnthe sleeping body with glazed eyes. After a time he had sropped paying special heed to Margareiete and had drawn inward into his own thoughts ad memories.

“Wandering child,
so lost
so helpless
yearing for my guidence…”
Christine’s crystalyne voice rang out through the graveyard, the mist around her enveloping her like his seduction he knew he spun around her well. Erik looked at her from the coror of the roof, never alloing her to see me as she replied to my call.
“Angel or father,
friend or phantom,
who is it there staring?”

“Have yu forgotten your angel?” he murmmered almost bitterly, but fought to keep my voice pleasant. Having her know of human emotions….could ruin everything, rem,ind her that he was just a man, not angel, nor deamon, nor ghost, nor phantom, but…..Erik. A man.

“Angel oh speak,
what endless longings,
echo in this whisper..”
Christine’s voice begged for me to answer and so Erik did, with the most enticing of voices.

“too long you’ve wandered in winter
far from my fathering gaze…”

Christine’s eyes searched the large grave of her father, gazing , peering into the steal doors, looking for the voice, but had remained hooked upon his every word.

“Widely my mind beats agaisnt you
but the soul obeys…..
Angel of music \
I /you denied you
Turning from true beaty
Angel of music do leave me
Come to me strange angel…..”

The two had sung in one unison, the beats of our hearts pounding in the words as we sang of one mind , one spirit…..


Atlast the little body stirred across the room, taking him back to the present just beofr the young boy, this Raoul, had intercepted his plan….. Erik sighed quietly, letting go of his bitterness. He could not allow himself to be bitter around Margareiete. Erik did not know that if the rule for when one rode a horse, of showing fear and therefore causing fear in the horse, applied to human girls who had been so terribly hurt, but he felt sure it would be wise to follow this guideline. It was extremly important to be as caustious as possible around this young girl, who was rather like a skittish filly attempting to get her feet beneath her to run away from the horrors that chased her, imagined or real.
If only he could know exactly what horrors she ran from. Rape, beatings, and perhaps diliberate starvation, he was sure, but what had brought such things down on a seven year old girl? Where were her parents when all this had been happening to her? Had she no friends, no protectors of any sort?
There was more than just the pain of phisical abuse in those mohaganny eyes. The fear that seemed to over ride thought skimmed her eyes constantly, but in the time that she had locked him down in her gaze, ad he had studied her eyes as well, he had deciphered more than fear. There was an emotional agony, a haunted quality that told him she was running from far more than he had gathered at the time.

Margariete sat still in complete darkness, no longer cold, she noticed, due to the blanket around her shoulders, the smooth material shifting against her tender skin as she stirred slightly. She heard a soft sigh come from across the room, and fear immidiatly gripped at her throat. Why had he followed her into the room? She didn’t remember him entering, but then she remember being cold and now she had a blanket wrapped and tucked around her. The only conclusion dawned on her and utterly confused her. Erik was the only one who could have done his…. It did not seem highly unliekley as he had cared for her well the past week she had spent with him, but something about th previous night had shattered that trust that she had gained in him…
“ I had hoped to move you to the bed so you could sleep more comfortably,” Erik’s baritone voice was gentle, soft, almost tentitive, “ but I wasn’t sure how you would react at the time.”
Margareiete didn’t’ answer, simply stared at him, her body tensed futily. Even if he made a move towards her, there would be no way she could manage to escape him quickly enough o evade him when she was in the postion of a tight ball. He would be upon her in a second. Slowly, cautiously, Margareite stretched out her body to a more flexible postion, the sat, obvserving Erik’s large form in the chair placed in the conor of the room, directly diagonally from him. He seemed relaxed enough, and he wasn’t moving, simply looking at her, clearly expecting an answer, although there was something about the air around him that told her he was uneas about something as well.
“Thankyou,” she murmmuered softly, almost noncoharently, “ for the blanket. I was cold.”

Erik strained to hear what she had said, but her voice was so small, it was impossible. Ah well, at the moemtn what she had said was not really of importance. The fact that she had spoken to him was all the reassurance he would receive for now, and he knew it. I don’t want to hurt you damnit! He wanted to scream his frustration, but no, that would only make things worse. Take what you can get, he reminded himself bitterly.

Once again amazing!

hey all

sorry this next bit on the story is kinda cut short, but i had to leave really quickly. read and review please!



So we’re back at the staring line, Erik thought to himself as he nudged a plate of cheese and bread before Margarieete, straining in his attempt to stay clear of touching her, from behind. He’d been careless when he’d approached her with the simple meal, coming from behind and planning to bring it over her shoulder and set it in front of her. She’d jumped when she glanced his hand over her shoulder, but thankfully did not run. Erik shook his head and almost huffed at the thought that the Phantom of the Opera was acting the part of a waiter.

The girl politley waited for him to sit down and started picking at her food, taking tiny bites out of her bread. Erik almost growled his frustration. It was almost as if she were trying to starve herself. The past three days she hadn’t finished her meager meals, and no matter how much smaller he made her portions, she ate even less every day. What was she try9ing to do? Why was she denying herself food when he knew she was hungry. He’d heard her stomache growling all night.

"Aren’t you hungry?" he asked gently, keeping his voice soft. The girl’s head snapped up, fear shifting in her oak eyes.

"I- I am," she stammered. "I just…"

Erik waited patiently, but sighed when she didn’t continue, simply staring down at her food. He bit hard into his slice of thick bread and chewed, grinding his teeth. He wasn’t angry with her, jkust frustrated. How was he to help her when she was so terrified of him?

Margareite shook uncontrollably, feeling the frustration rolling off or Erik in title waves. She was sure that he was unaware of just how easy it was to read him mood when he felt somethin so strongly. But this mood she did not understand it’s reasoning. …frustration? Why frustation? Because she was scared? But wasn’t that what they wanted? Fear?

Flashes of memory scrambled her mind momentariily, her heart surging to life in rapid succession. The anger that had serfaced the other night broke to the serface, focusing on Erik.

Erik felt the spears of rage slam into him as her eyes rose and focused slowly on his form before her. His mouthful of food caught in his thraot, and he swallowed painfully. What had he doen to trigger he anger? A;l he had done was ask if she was hungry. His brows pinched together as he looked at her. He wasn;t afraid of her. He could certainly defend himself agaisnt a little girl. What he did fear is what he might have to do to her if it came down to phisically subduing her. An accident might cause a twisted ankle or wrist. And thast would do him absloutly no good in the trust case.

"Are you planning to use me?" a velvet voice darker than the blackest night in the lair sang out from her, causing shivers to tremble down his spine. HE hated it when she used that voice.

"W-what?" he stuttered, caught off guard.

"Are you going to use me as your pet?" she repeated darkly. "To give you pleasure when you wish for it?"

The sight of the food on his plate before him, made Erik want to gag. SO that’s what she thought of him. The cold pit that had formed when he had thrown her away rekindled within the depths of his stomache. He had never thought of doing such a thing to the girl, but how was she to know that when that was all she had known?

"No!" he exclaimed raggedly after choking on the last bit of food going down his troat. "Lord, no! Margareiet, why ever would I don that?"

The girl looked at him across the table, terrible hate waving out from her and wasing over him. Her eyes never blinked, simply stared straight and true into in like knives extended into his heart.

"Think about it Monsuire Erik," she answered slowly, like a black widow approaching it’s pray. "Your down here alone all this time-" don’t remind me, Erik thought dryly- " and now you have a girl down her to your pleasing. What more could you want?"

Erik’s mouth opened and closed many times before he managed to apply his vocal chord’s to his mouth’s movements.

" You are a young girl, a child," he assured her brokenly, his voice tight. "I am a grown man. Grown men don’ lust after young girls," then, after a moment he added, " respectable, rightous men. Honorable men. Not those mosnters that hurt you."

The girl eyed him wierily, coldly, but the angr was ebbing away. Erik’s relief at this slightest of change rumbled through him and he almost smile,d but caught himself. He didn;’t want her to misinterpet the smile. HE nodded to her with a firm no,d the put a definate meaning to what he had said.