A/n: Ah! I'm so sorry I've started this story, but Antiquity has me writer blocked so bad that I can't even move backwards with my writing. This idea popped into my head a while back and when I've had inspiration, I've worked on it. Hope you guys enjoy it and continue to watch for any updates on Antiquity.

P.S. I hope the title isn't too dumb. I couldn't think of anything else. Sorries.

Chapter 1

I jumped as, once again, a rat scurried noisily nearby. There most likely was a crumb from the moldy bread lying about. Take it, vermin. Not like it would fill my almost empty stomach anyways. The disgusting creatures probably outnumbered the amount of people in this god awful prison. It was absolutely revolting to simply think of it, but I suppose there could be worse. There could be spiders as well... Actually, it couldn't be much worse because there went another spider over my foot. Pulling my feet off the chilly and damp floor, I pulled my knees to my chest. What did I ever do to deserve this? Locked up in the dirtiest and most despicable of prisons with rats, spiders, and criminals of all sorts. I, Flora Ashby, thrown into this hell-hole with thieves and murderers alike.

My family couldn't care less where I was. They were the ones who threw me out into the street, penniless and hopelessly alone. A suitor had made an advance on me and I ended up breaking the guy's nose. This suitor happened to be a member of the wealthiest family in Paris, the Marquis', which made things all the worse. It was well deserved, but my mother thought differently and became furious. She shouted about how our name would be tainted for all of eternity. I tried to explain my actions, but she cut me off and grabbed me by my arm. As she dragged me towards the front door, she told me that I would no longer be welcome in her house. Before I could put a word in, she had tossed me into the street and slammed the door behind me. The people who witnessed this scene did nothing to help me and went about their way as if they hadn't seen it at all.

I attempted to find a job and a suitable place to stay, but news travels quickly when coming from my family and the Marquis family. My life became a living hell all due to breaking a rich, spoiled, handsy man's nose. No place I applied to work at accepted me and I couldn't find a living place within my budget, which was free. I took to sleeping in alleys and eating the trash of Parisians. This was a major change from being served each meal on a silver platter. If I squinted hard enough, the tin trash lids looked like that platter. It did nothing to help the flavor of my meals, though. The rejections of the upper class was slightly less than completely unappetizing and I refused to resort to other means of finding food. Thievery was below me and no matter how bad I wanted to steal from a street vendor, I refrained from doing so.

It was months after I had been cruelly thrown out of my home and I somehow had managed to make it this far. My appearance had changed dramatically thanks to my diet or lack thereof and living arrangement. The once soft and supple body I came to know was replaced with a rough and bony one. The golden hair atop my head was no longer silky smooth and free of tangles. It was coarse and tangled beyond the help of any amount of brushing. Dirt and grime covered me from head to toe and the dress I wore could be easily mistaken for rags. My boots had holes in the bottom and when it rained, water leaked in far too easily. This would have bothered me months ago, but I had grown a spine during the time I spent in the streets. Nothing fazed me and I did as I pleased, as long as it kept me out of harm's way.

A week ago, I was walking through the marketplace minding my own business as usual. Nobody noticed the lowlifes, making this quite easy. I stopped to admire the beautiful fall day, when I was rudely bowled over by a man who was in a hurry. He didn't even stop when I cried out in pain as my hands scraped against the cement. Looking up with pure disgust, I noticed something strange. A wallet laid not even a two feet away from where I had fallen. It must have been that man's and because he was in a rush, didn't notice it was missing. I thought for a moment of taking it and all its contents for myself, but resisted the temptation. The best thing I could do was turn it in to the gendarmes.

Picking myself off of the sidewalk, I collected the wallet in my scraped hands and started off in the direction of the station. It was only a block or two away, making my mission quite simple. If only it had been that simple... Little did I know, the man whose wallet was in my filthy hands was following me. I had no place to hold it but my hands and my appearance didn't help me at all. Before I even made it halfway to the station, a hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. The man who had done so, I quickly recognized as the wallet's owner. He glared down at me and I then noticed his attire—the shiny officer's badge pinned on his overcoat. The officer snatched the wallet from my hand and made a scene of arresting me in the middle of the city.

This brings me to my current location, a jail cell. I was sentenced to five years for trying to return an officer's wallet. They didn't believe me when I told them that and that was the end of it. So here I sit, feeling chilled to the bone and worse off than ever. Every once in a while, I hear the cries of some poor fellow crying out in pain. Whether it is another inmate or a gendarme beating him, I can't tell and really don't want to know. Thankfully, it's just me in this cell. I don't know how I'd handle a roommate. Especially if it were an actual criminal. The gendarmes don't seem to care about the guy whose pained cries just stopped. Why would they care about mine?

A sound snapped me out of my thoughts and I looked up. It was the sound of key jingling and it came from right outside my cell. The lock clicked and the door swung open, revealing a handful of gendarmes. "We'll have to put him in here." the one in the front said, stepping in while keeping a watchful eye on me. "Stay right there, girl, and you won't get hurt. Bring him in, boys." I watched as they literally dragged in a grown man, throwing him to the ground before retreating to the other side of the door. The man who held the keys spat at the pile of a man on the ground as he exited the cell. He shut the door and locked it, before leaving the two of us alone. As the group retreated down the corridor, I listened in on their conversation hoping to find out more about my new cell mate.

"Not very frightening, is he now?" one gendarme said, chuckling along with the others. "The elusive Phantom, brought down by the six of us. He didn't even stand a chance." Phantom? Where had I heard of a phantom before? I believe I had seen it in a newspaper a couple months ago. What was it he did to get the front page? I couldn't recall and continued to listen.

"Didn't even put up a fight when we found him. Just found him on the ground outside the remnants of the Populaire. Poor fellow probably realized that burning down the opera house destroyed all of the power he had over it." My eyes widened at his words, finally remembering the newspaper's heading—'Phantom Strikes Again: Murder at the Opera'. He had murdered some stagehand during a performance. According to what this gendarme said, he had burned down the Opera Populaire now. "That freak better not lay a finger on that girl. I've had my eye on her for a while...

I shuddered at his words and turned my back to the locked door. The group was now out of listening range and I looked down at the Phantom. The pitiful pile of man on the ground didn't look like a murderer or kidnapper. Since being thrown in here, he hadn't moved or made a sound. He just sort of laid there silently. Upon examining his crumpled form, I noticed a burlap sack over his face. Was this some sort of joke the guards pulled? Did they do this to other criminals? I was tempted to remove it, but chose not to approach the Phantom. Instead, I spoke to him from my cot. "Monsieur? Are you alright?" I asked. Even if he was a criminal, if we were going to be cell mates, I'd like to at least be on good terms with him. Criminal and all. When he didn't answer, I shrugged my shoulders and moved back to my cot. Glancing over at the cot against the opposite wall, I spoke again to the Phantom. "There is another cot in this room, if you'd like it more than the disgustingly unclean ground."

"There is no place more befitting for the likes of a monster, mademoiselle. Now leave me be." I swore that I had imagined him answer, but then I noticed he had picked his head off of the ground. He was glaring at me from underneath that burlap sack with holes cut out so he might see. I wondered what was beneath it and why he had not yet removed it. Before I could I ask, I noticed his abnormally yellow eyes. Those glowing amber eyes stared deeply into mine and I instantly felt an intense wave of emotions wash over me. I quickly broke my connection with his eyes by dropping my gaze to my lap. That is when he laughed dejectedly and pushed himself off of the ground to sit up. "Everyone is repulsed by this loathsome creature. It is no wonder you draw your gaze elsewhere for no one would look into the eyes of the devil's spawn."

"Excuse me, Monsieur Fantome." I said snappishly. Could this guy wallow in self-pity any more than he already was? "I was hoping that we could at least be courteous towards one another during our time together. You don't know how many times I've heard rats scuttle across that floor you're sitting on. Not even a dog would lie upon this ground. That cot over there is not being used, as it is yours, so please stop waiting around for a pity-party because I most certainly will not give you one."

"I don't want your pity, petulant child." he retorted, giving me another fiery glare. "You don't even have a clue of to what I have been through. Until you do, it would be wise not to go assuming what I do or do not want or need. As for this floor, I have slept on things far worse than rat droppings. I'd ask you if you knew who slept on that cot before I arrived or if they'd have cleaned it since then, but I know you haven't been here long enough to know the answer. Therefore, I shall remain right here until I rot away into nothingness." With a huff of annoyance, he turned away from me and laid back down.

"Fine." I said, even though I knew he was probably ignoring me. This man was a puzzle yet to be solved. It took all my strength not to look over at him. He was just so... intriguing and I couldn't help but be curious in the presence of different people. My life had always been monotonous. Nothing of interest happened in my family except for the disownment of myself. I ended up giving in and looking over at him, noticing how he shivered slightly on the frigid, damp cement. With a roll of my eyes, I picked the blanket off of my cot and walked over to him before dropping it on his shoulders. I snatched the one off of his would-be cot and returned to mine. "My name is Flora Ashby, by the way. You might as well call me something other than 'petulant child'. That will get old far too fast, Monsieur Fantome."

Not even five minutes later, the Phantom spoke again before falling silent for the remainder of the evening. "It's actually Erik." The corners of my lips twitched up in a smile as I fell into a deep sleep.

A/n: Read and review, my lovelies!