Thank you all of my reviewers! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!

Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

Love

Jolted awake by some wayward thought, she pushed away from me forcefully. Still drowsy from the effects of what I had done to her, she stumbled and lost her balance. Without a thought, I dove after her, catching her and cushioning her from the fall.

I felt the thud of her arm as it crashed into my face and then the shock of us both falling to the carpet. As I hit, I saw the mask fly from my cheek and careen across the room. I watched, frozen in terror, as it smacked against a violin across the room, too far for me to retrieve it before she could see.

In shock, I laid where I fell, making no move to stop her as she scrambled up and away. A myriad of emotions warred within me – confusion, denial, horror, and most of all, the acrid and turbulent sting of anger, ready to explode to the surface.

She gave a little cry of surprise and terror as she spotted the mask and it was enough to draw the anger out fully. Slowly, I hefted myself up and turned to face her. Clasping her hands to her mouth, she went white with horror.

Narrowing my eyes at her, I felt no pity as she backed up into a small table and stumbled over it, causing both her and the one of a kind vase that was on it to crash heavily to the floor. Covered in the roses it had held, she watched in terror as I stalked towards her on hands and knees.

Reaching her, I viciously snatched her ankle and dragged her underneath me, pinning her to the ground and giving her an excellent view of the twisted mess that was the right half of my face.

Screaming now, her widened eyes searched mine and, presumably, found something terrifying, because she turned her face away and into the carpet. Feeling nothing of the affection that had been buoying me up minutes ago, I was consumed by simmering hate and an overwhelming desire to possess her.

Grabbing her hair I twisted her face up to mine and brutally smashed our lips together. She whimpered into my mouth and I chuckled bitterly before attacking her throat with bruising kisses and nips. She clutched at my shoulders and then desperately tugged at my hair.

I hissed in pain but continued my ministrations. As I went lower, brushing the edge of her gown, she managed to get her heel into my calf and used the painful distraction to shove me off and lunge for the door.

Growling in rage, I flew across the room and slammed it closed with my palm before she could slip through. She fled to the doors leading out to the balcony and tried the handle of the nearest one but found it locked. Beyond panic, she desperately tried each one as I came closer.

Realizing that the last one was also hopeless, she turned and faced me as I put my hands on either side of her and stared her down.

She would not to look at me again and caustically I spit out,

"Really, my dear, is it that bad?"

Boiling with anger as she refused to say anything, I slammed my fist through one of the panes of glass in the door next to us.

"ANSWER ME!" I all but screamed and she whimpered again, but slowly turned to face me.

"Your face…Erik…I don't care…but those eyes…" she rambled on breathless, terrified, "Oh, God…they burn…" Tears started to run down her cheeks and I let her slide haphazardly to the floor.

Stepping back, I felt the anger dwindle. It was swiftly replaced by confusion and unease. How could it be that she had seen my face, yet she didn't care? I looked down at the huddled, shivering woman before me.

A lie…

My mind whispered to me. She was distraught, trying anything to escape. I felt the dangerous, murderous feelings beginning to build again. Traitorously, my tactical mind refused to let me be.

What did she say about my eyes? WHAT IN THE HELL…?

I knelt in front of her and reached out a hand towards her shoulder. Curling up, she shrunk as far back as she could and bleated out,

"Please don't kill me!"

My hand froze and then limply dropped back to my side.

Did she really think…God…

It dawned on me suddenly how badly things had gotten out of hand. Moments before I would not have hesitated to snap the neck of her or anyone who had walked through the door, I was so enraged by what she had done.

Suddenly too horrified by my heartless actions to be anywhere near her, I scuttled back until I hit a leg of the piano then sagged to the floor. Stripped of any anger that I might have directed towards her, I was overwhelmed by a sudden surge of panic and helplessness.

Shit…shit…shit…

What had I done? What had I done? Looking at her again, I felt like a child who had ignorantly abused his pet one too many times and guiltily watched as it quivered in terror at its master's very presence. Burying my face in my hands I berated my self,

She's not a pet, fool! She's a living, breathing…beautiful…

Realization hit me like a ton of bricks and I doubled over, shoving my ruined face into the carpet, not caring how much it hurt. I had treated her like an object…a goal. The very first time I saw her I refused to believe it was love. I twisted my feelings into possessed obsession, building up a relationship in my mind as the year passed.

I had almost certainly lost her as we sat on the couch and I calmed her, trying to trick her into doing my will. But now…

I felt what was left of my heart crumble to pieces as I realized that I had completely and utterly destroyed any hope of being with her. Physically, she was curled up before me, but I knew that she would see me now as a madman, nothing more.

The only option left would be total domination. I would have to break her, bend her until she snapped. But was I willing to turn such a creature into a tortured, hollow thing?

No.

I loved her. I didn't deny it now, too late to be of any good. I didn't know how it could possibly be since I barely knew the girl…love at first sight, perhaps? I snorted at the thought. How ironic…

Turning my head in her direction again, I realized that she had not moved. The poor thing had either fainted or was frozen in terror.

Oh, God. Starting to sob, I acknowledged the final, crippling blow - I would have to let her go. I loved her too much to turn her into something as hideous as myself.

Curling into a fetal position, I gave in to a suffocating sense of loneliness and agony. Tears ran down my face, trailing over the scars and pooling in the cavities that stretched across the right side of my face.

I remained on the floor in a daze, for minutes, hours, until I felt more than heard her start to slowly get up and move. Assuming she was going to run, I gasped in surprise and flinched away when I felt her hand slowly settle onto my shoulder.

I unbelievingly cracked open an eye. She was kneeling in front of me, her pity filled gaze directed to the floor.

Pity! That was the worst thing that she could have done to me. The look in her eyes made me want to die. Hatred, I could have dealt with, but to be pitied like a helpless invalid or an abused animal…

Making shushing noises at my weak protests, she gently rubbed my back, crying out in surprise as her fingers crossed the latticework of scars there, able to be felt only because of my position and the tightness of my back.

"Oh, Erik…" She whispered, then leaned down and wrapped me in a hug. Tenderly coaxed into relaxation, I fell asleep in her arms, emotionally exhausted.

I woke up, who knows how much later, to the feel of soft lips on my twisted flesh. I snapped awake instantly, realizing that she was pulling away and crossing the room. I remained silent as she left.

I could have chased after her, could have stopped her and brought her back to be imprisoned here with me, but I could not bring myself to get up.

As minutes passed, I mentally let her go. She was probably clear of the grounds by now, and even though I had procured her phone number and address, I resolutely decided that I would leave her alone.

Shifting my position on the carpet, I caught my reflection in the glass of the door in front of me. After a sickening moment, I disgustedly closed my eyes on the image that had haunted me all through my childhood and into my adult life.

Waves of self-loathing swept through me as memories fought their way to the surface and I screamed in agony. Crazily, I raked my nails down both sides of my face, hoping that pain would block out what I knew was going to come.

"Mama…why is your face different?" The little boy asked, curious as to why his mother's face looked so radically different than the one he had come to learn as his.

The boy's mother set down the book that she was reading and turned her attention to the bane of her existence. Beautiful, cruel, socialite that she was, she resented the creature who had ruined her life. She no longer had any friends or companions. Her deceased husband's funds had run out long ago, spent on frivolous things like jewelry, clothes, and other trinkets.

No lover would take up residence in her house because of the monster of a child who lived in the attic and tortured anyone who came through the threshold. In spiteful fits of rage, she would beat him with any available weapon until he dropped, but that seemed to make him more determined, more insane.

She stared at him in simmering malice, now, and thought calculatingly of the best ways to bring pain onto the young child. Torturing him had become her one satisfaction, her one release from the life she had to burden upon herself.

"Because you're a demon from hell, that's why. I'm too perfect for you to even understand, you idiot, so don't bother."

The boy cocked his head, confused at his mother's ranting.

"I don't understand…"

He was cut off as she shut the book in her hands with a snap. Rising with a growl, she dragged him out of the room and up the stairs. Shoving him into his room she swiftly locked the door. Moments later she burst back in, dragging with her a humongous mirror that she'd placed in the other section of the attic for storage years ago.

Propping it up against the nearest wall and scattering the various drawings and diagrams that had been carefully pinned to the bared planks of wood, she swirled around and shoved the cowering boy in front of her so he could not turn away.

"Look at your face."

He tried desperately to avoid his mother's claw-like grasp, but in the end was overpowered.

"I said to look, you damn monster!" She held him viciously as tears began to fall onto her fingers, which were sunk into either side of his face.

"Momma…you're hurting me!" She ignored him and continued,

"I know you're scared of the dark. I've seen you hiding with your flashlight some nights. Now, why would you be scared? Let's see…are you afraid that something will get you?"

He whimpered and she smirked triumphantly.

"Ah, yes. Are you afraid that you will be dragged away and torn apart by an evil beast hiding somewhere? In that corner, maybe?" He cried out in terror and she cackled evilly.

"Well, I'll have you know that they won't bother to eat you!" He sagged in relief, naively believing her. "No! They're just waiting to take you away and make you one of them! Someday…" She approached the mirror and made him look closely at his twisted little visage. He screamed in horror.

"They will come because of this hideous face of yours! Look at it! Look!"

I whimpered at the memory and desperately started clawing at myself. As I tore my clothes and ripped into my skin, I could still hear her laughing haughtily at my absolute misery.

Feeling blood starting to run down my skin in sluggish rivulets, I dragged myself across the room and out into the hallway. Clawing my way into my bedroom, I kicked the door shut and continued the destruction to my body that I had started in the music room.

Jacobs found me sometime later, lying almost unconscious in a pool of blood. He worriedly dialed an ambulance and I was taken to the hospital. I was promptly surrounded by doctors and nurses who immediately started to take stats, poked me with IV's, and plugged me into monitoring machines.

I was there almost a week before they declared me mentally competent and took me off most of the sedation. A councilor came in once a day and kept asking me about my life – was I prone to hurting myself, normally? Was I taking any drugs that the hospital didn't have in my file?

After three days I got sick of it and asked the visiting Jacobs to give me my cell phone.

"But, sir! You're not allowed…" He sputtered indignantly.

"Jacobs, hand me the phone now." I glared at him and he passed it to me hesitantly.

Armed with a way to communicate with the outside world, I dialed some people who immediately made it possible for my stay – which was shortened drastically – at the hospital to be a lot more comfortable.

Hiding the phone as a male nurse came in I dismissed Jacobs. He huffed out of the room and I turned my attention to the nurse who was putting something in my drip.

I watched him coolly as has attempted to make idle chatter.

"You know, it amazes me how far surgical technology has come. I just went to a conference here in town and we discussed the facial reconstruction done on that woman in France. Amazing! I couldn't believe how good she looked compared to some."

He checked my charts and said absentmindedly,

"Have you ever thought about surgery, sir?"

I snorted and he rambled on,

"Well, I bet that your face would look considerably better than how it is now…" He trailed of as I hissed angrily and fixed him with a heated glare. Hastily putting the chart back, he backed out of the room, muttering apologies.

Hours later, I seriously began to consider what that nurse had said. In the morning I made a few calls and pulled a few strings and had the release papers in front of me by noon. I signed them with determination, ignoring the protesting doctors who said it was unethical to operate on a man admitted less than a week and a half ago for mental and physical damage.

When they refused on the grounds that it was too soon to operate, I made even more calls – I didn't give a damn what state my body was in. Whether I made it through the operation or not didn't matter to me – it was the point of the thing, really. When most of them came crawling back, in fear of losing their jobs at this hospital or any in the area, I looked at them in triumph.

Two days later, I was placed on a gurney and wheeled to surgery. The last thing I remembered before the sedatives kicked in and I spiraled into an endless oblivion was the face of my beautiful, escaped angel, Christine.