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Description
You were hidden; shrouded within the shadows whilst your sister shone like the stars, captivating all who saw, claiming the spotlight that she always craved. You, however, were quite the opposite to your dear sister, Christine. In your spare time you read whilst she danced, drew whilst she gossiped and sewed whilst she sang.
Times were dull as one of the Populaire’s costume designers, the sheer effort to impress not only the directors, but also the participants and the audience left very little room for fault. Not to mention the aggravating critique from that of Carlotta; one of the many reasons you currently lack in costume staff. Though it wasn’t as if you could (nor were you allowed) to complain. Even though you worked within the same building, worked within the same confinements, under the same management, status mattered. You sat at the very bottom of the pile with the stagehands and the drunkards.
You were a costume designer, nothing more.
Seated within a secluded corner backstage, rehearsals for Don Juan were currently taking place. Notes rang out across the auditorium, joining together to form one glorious harmony. Both tenor and soprano combined in chorus, their voices entwining in one beautiful caress.
Another sigh escaped your lips as you stared intently at the costume in hand, needle strung up in the other. The gown for Aminta lay in your lap, a naïve pink being bound by black lace, the illusion of innocence being tainted by darkness, deference and desire.
With steady hands, you weaved the needle in and out the fabric with absolute precision, at the peak of concentration till an unexpected screech caught the entire auditorium unawares.
“I do not want this part!”
“Signora, we have no other choice.” A fatigued Firmin exclaimed, in no way able to calm the squealing Italian; André was stood beside him, a cloth placed against his dampening forehead at the prospect of one of Carlotta’s frequent fits.
With an angered hiss, the diva stalked off in rage, her posse and the managers frantically scurrying off after her; yelling bouts of compliments in hopes to appease her.
An awkward silence followed suit of their departure before a weary sigh left Monsieur Reyer’s lips.
“A moment, if you will.” With that, he stalked off, seemingly agitated by the little progress being made with the new opera.
With a roll of your eyes, you continued sewing the fabric within your hands.
She always was a diva.
“Hello, sister dearest.” A familiar voice chirped, causing you to look up from your work once again. A small smile made its way to your lips as you came face to face with your little sister.
“Good afternoon, Chrissy. I see rehearsals are going well.” A scoff escaped her, arms crossed over her chest.
“Indeed. She always was difficult when it came to getting her way.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” You chuckled lightly before turning back to your work, stringing the needle up once more and weaving it slowly between the silken layers.
“When do you think you’ll finish it, sister?” Christine asked, perching herself on the floor beside your chair.
“Not too long now.” You mumbled through the pin placed between your teeth as you collected another reel of thread. Removing it from your mouth, you pinned the pieces into place before you began sewing once again. “Hopefully, you should be able to wear it by tomorrow.”
“It’s such a beautiful dress, sister.” She admired the piece within your delicate hands, handling it much like you would glass. “Your designs are always so wonderful.”
My designs…
Your designs indeed. With what that fiend of a man wanted to present your sister with; that tight, flimsy piece which bared her to the world. You could only praise whomever was watching over you that you could convince him otherwise.
“I’m glad like it, Chrissy. You’ll be the prime of the show.” She blushed and flashed a sweet smile.
She was so innocent. So immersed by idle dreams, no thought of shadows obstructing her view of the world, no true reality. She knew so little of the danger she faced for what now seemed so long ago.
But no more.
“Alright! Alright! Places people.” A hasty Monsieur Reyer hurried in from the west wing. “From the beginning.”
The managers also appeared, treading cautiously behind a 'slightly' more appeased Carlotta, though fury was still imbedded in her pale features.
“I shall speak with you later, sister.” Christine smiled, raising herself from the ground with all the grace of a swan.
“Do enjoy your time seducing Piangi.” A pout met your Cheshire grin.
“Must you really imply such awful things?”
“I only jest, Chissy.” You giggled. “I know it’s only Raoul whom you’d ever consider.”
Monsieur Reyer cut off any blushing protest she was about to make.
“Miss. Daae. To the stage please!”
“Go. We’ll speak later.” You waved her off with a small smile and she followed with a sigh, skipping over to centre stage.
Glancing at her once more, your smile fell. Lightly fingering the chain round your neck, you went back to your work, fully intending on complete this piece by tonight.

By the time rehearsals had ended, the sky had darkened considerably and the moon had taken its spotlight.
You were currently seated in the costume department, working on the final few stitches of Amnita’s gown. The head seamstress, Agnes, had left mere moments ago, entrusting you to keep everything within the department intact during the remainder of your time there. Her stern, wrinkled glare told you there would be trouble if her words were not heeded.
Tongue peaking out from your parted lips in concentration, your pace seemed to slow down ever so slightly as your sewing reached its end.
Tying it off and snipping the thread, you slowly lifted the piece from its place on the table and held it high. A sigh of relief escaped you.
“I’m impressed.”
A frightened gasp followed on.
That voice. That beautiful, sickening voice. What you wouldn’t give to be rid of that horrid, masked man in your life.
That monster.
Staying silent, you kept your back to him, placing the dress over to one of the many mannequins about the room and gently brushed it down.
“Ignoring me will not help you, my dear.”
You inwardly cringed at the name, wanting nothing more than to wring the man’s neck in. It could only compensate for the others that had met the same fate at this murderer’s hands.
Again, you avoided him, collecting all the threads and materials that lay strewn across tha table and took them to their original places.
His shadow loomed over your smaller form as you assorted various shades of threads with their matching partners, gritting your teeth at his advancing proximity. His hand slowly reached out to touch your left one, instantly causing you to pull it close to your chest.
“Why can’t you leave me be?” You whispered after a small silence had settled, practically frozen in place. He was silent, either unwilling to say anything or waiting for you to elaborate; unknowing which it was, you continued anyway. “I did what was asked of me.”
“…You have.”
You tensed. He sounded so close. Too close. You wanted to be nowhere near the fiend who had taken your sister for a fool for so long.
“I’ve done what you wanted.”
“That, I cannot argue with.”
You gripped the table in front of you, squeezing your fists so tight you could fell your nails digging beneath the surface of the wood.
You wanted to be nowhere near the brute who had spent his waking hours spying on your innocent, little sister.
“We had a deal.”
You wanted to be no were near the bastard who had ruined your life.
“We did-”
Before he could speak another word, you flung yourself around to face the monster himself, fury blazing in your eyes.
“Then why won’t you leave me alone!?” You cried, silent tears creeping from your eyes. His glowing eyes narrowed beneath his mask.
“I have every right to see you.” He glowered, staring down at you with such intensity; you had never felt smaller.
“No, you do no-”
“You know I do!” He roared, slamming his fists on the table behind you, triggering an involuntary yelp from your trembling lips.
You found yourself effectively pinned between the table and the man you despised.
A murderer.
Never, in all your life, had you felt more vulnerable. Not even when your mother and father had passed, but this man before you was sent to cause all sort of hellish torments in your life.
“I have every God given right to do as I please with you.” He spat, his face mere inches from your own.
“No you have not!“ You argued, unwilling to dare display the helplessness you felt in his presence, ignorant to the few tears that littered your face. “ We didn’t agree that you could do as pleased with me, nor did we say that you could treat me like a bloody pet!”
“You are mine.” His face inched closer, far too close. You could feel his harsh breaths against your face, his weathered lips far to close to your own.
You turned your head before he could close in any more, eyes downcast.
“I-” Your breath hitched. “I belong to no one.”
You could not have sounded weaker with those words. Your false bravado was failing, you were practically clinging on to it till you knew you would fall.
“You became mine-” He hissed, his breath hot on your ear, scalding you. “-the moment you took your vows.”
“They were nothing more than words!.“ You spat. “I did it for her.”
For her. Your sweet, little sister who deserved nothing of the cruelties this man would have bestowed upon her. You had given her an escape, an escape she would never be aware of, but you…
You would always be trapped.
An agonized sob bubbled from your lips. The charade had ceased, your sorrow bared before the one who was the cause of it all.
His skeletal hand slowly ghosted the air of your cheek, avoiding the touch of your silken flesh. The skin he had so briefly tasted, those enticing lips he had only shortly sampled, those exquisite cries of release he had savoured like an angels cry.
'Erik!' You had cried, with such longing in your voice. An unspeakable desire had welled up within you, corrupted your innocence and unknown passions were exposed. That night, for a short while, he had been able to grasp onto the smallest piece of heaven that he would ever truly know.
Oh, How he'd wept! Shed countless tears of joy to be graced with a beauty such as you.
For, but a moment, he had forgotten it was an agreement, a reluctant deal, and embraced it as a token of affection. Love. A thing he had thought was only saved for your sister but found entirely wrong. That night, a flicker of hope and longing had been ignited in his cold heart; a repressed fondness had broken free and grew stronger because of you. His angel.
“Don‘t cry, my dear.” He begged, his anger relinquished in mere seconds at the sound of your broken sobs. “Erik cannot bare to see his angel cry.”
“I didn’t want this.” You cried, pressing your face into your hands in a desperate attempts to stifle your unrelenting tears. “I don’t want you.” To hide from the malicious man before you. “I’ll never want you.”
His hands dropped, clutching at your skirts before he did the unthinkable; he fell to his knees before you. He pulled at your skirt, practically dragging you forward before burying his face into the worn fabric, muffling his anguished moans.
You peered down as the weeping man though the blur of tears, hands cupped over your mouth to hush the blubbers of gibberish that fell from them. He trembled beneath you, wailing over and over 'Why!'.
You truly pitied him. To be born with such a face.
You had seen it, viewed the horror he had to witness every day and onward. He had shown you on the night of your vows, quite cruelly you might add, anger straining in his hollow eyes, weathered lips pulled up into a fierce snarl.
But you didn’t scream.
You may have gasped, clutched at your chest, hidden your open mouth beneath your shaking hands, maybe even reached out and touched him. There’s not much you could recall about that night, almost a year ago now, but all you were sure of was that you did not scream.
His face was a cruelty no man- nay! A mark no one should ever have to bare. To live a life so devoid of love and compassion was truly unforgiving of God. In an odd way, you ached to take him in your arms, hold him to your breast and whisper gentle words of comfort to him,
But nether the less, you still abhorred him.
Not for his face. Never something so shallow, so simple as that. It was for your sister sake that you held such hatred. For years he had taken your sister for a fool, fabricating one of your father’s fondest memories ’The Angel of Music’ for his own, dare you say it, amusement. He had stalked her, obsessed over her… he was a murderer.
He murdered the innocent, and that was something you found yourself unable to forgive.
Weakly, you attempted to pull away from the weeping man who only tugged you back, tilting his head to gaze up at you.
“What must Erik do to make you happy?!” He cried, pressing your dress under his chin, his eyes pleading.
With slight uncertainty, you slowly reached a hand out towards him, the gesture meant to be a simple, sweet caress.
But you stopped.
“Let me go.” You pressed. “Set me free.” It was almost inaudible, but he heard it. An outbreak of ’no’s’ flooded the room as he chanted them, over and over.
Desperately, he grasped your outstretched hand and pulled it to his masked cheek.
“Anything else but that.” He exclaimed, pressing your hand tighter. “Ask me anything else and I will do it.”
“Erik, stop this.” You implored, tugging at your hand.
“Why!”
“Erik, please!”
“Why!? Why, can’t you love Erik? Why-” His words died away, his fist ensnaring your hand in a tight, painful grip. “You’re afraid…frightened by the monster that I am.“ His eyes narrowed. “Are you so repulsed by this demon creature whom kneels before you, begging for your inconceivable love.” His icy words chilled you to the core.
Crushing your hand in his unyielding hold, he yanked you to the ground before him before releasing his grip on you.
“Well look at him!” He screamed. Clutching his mask with such ferocity you were sure it would break, he tore it from his face, insanity swirling in his vibrant eyes. “Feast your eyes on the living corpse!”
Your heart truly broke for this man.
Bones jutted from his sickly pale flesh, his cheek bones were just bones. His skin seemed to dip, sink into his frail facial structure, so much that odd bits seemed to twist as his skin was stretched beneath the bone that was his cheek. His eyes, sunken so much into his sockets, they almost seemed to drown. Orbs of yellow hiding away in the depths of them. His thin lips were pulled up into a tight sneer that obscured his paper skin.
“Oh Erik…” You breathed, gazing at the troubled man before you.
Slowly, you brought your free hand forward, edging it towards his face. He watched you intently, like a hawk does its prey, his eyes never moving till your hand made contact with his bare cheek. A tremulous gasp escaped him, his eyes fluttering close for a mere second, anger subsiding, before looking back at you.
Weakly his hand held yours, almost desperately trying to pull it closer to his marred cheek, causing you to inhale sharply at the unexpected contact. Raising your other, you ran it slowly through his hair.
“Your face…your face brings me naught but sorrow for you, Erik.” Your voice wavered, your emotions going haywire. Here you were, comforting a man you despise with the gentle touch of a mother, a lover, and you couldn’t seem to hold back. “Before me, I see a face which has been abhorred by many. A face that is glimpsed with nothing but fear and disgust. But I…” You paused.
Looking at the man knelt before you, you studied him closely. He was deathly still, his eyes trained on nothing but you.
You were the only thing that existed to him for these few moments.
Hand entwined in his hair, the other caressing his flawed cheek. It was so intimate. Like a couples embrace, an affectionate love.
It terrified you.
“But what?” He asked, shoulders tensing.
Your breathing wouldn’t still. If you were to say those words, that you did not care how he looked, he may misinterpret it as something deeper. To look for something more… meaningful. But to live a life shrouded in shadows and doubt based on the judgement of others, .
What could you do.
“I…I…” You stammered, and no matter how many times it ran through your head, no matter how undoubtedly sure you were that you were making the wrong choice, you opted for it for it anyway. For his own benefit. “I see a man. A man with so many flaws, but not one of them is his face,” You whispered, your hand slowly drifting from his hair to his face. “Because this face, this face could never scare me. It could never repulse me….because it’s you.”
Your quiet words earned a face of countless emotions. Confusion, joy, bliss but the most notable was disbelief.
Taking both your hands in his own, like china in his hands, he brought them to his crisp lips, showering your open palms with plentiful of kisses. His sobs encouraged your own, feeling his warm tears leaking onto your own hands.
It broke your heart to see.
“No.” A whimper broke from your trembling lips, feebly pulling your hands away from embracing ones. His eyes watched, his lips parted, his heart- “Because it’s you… it’s you I’m terrified of.” Broke. “It’s who you are, it’s what you do that frightens me!” You sobbed, eyes clenched shut, not daring to look at him.
He didn’t reply. He didn’t breath. You didn’t know what he was doing, nor could you bare to look. All you could imagine was his hollowed eyes, blazing with anger and full of murderous intent. You could imagine his violent grip, that malevolent sneer twisting its way onto his already distorted skin. You could only imagine the worst, your demise.
What you never thought was that, with open eyes, you would see a man quivering, sullen and, dare you say, broken before you.
As if it were his last ray of hope, he crawled towards your shaking form, with what little strength he seemed to possess, and buried his head briefly into your lap. Instantly, you opened your eyes in shock at his unforeseen action, shaking your head desperately from side to side.
“Stop this Erik, please!” You cried, pulling furiously at the hands that clutched your skirts in a deathly grip. “No more!”
“Please.”
That word. That one, simple word held you in your place as you looked down at the defeated man before you. You had brought the Opera Ghost to his knees, begging before you in floods of tears.
His skeletal hand trembled, gently reaching up and tracing every curve he could with a feather touch along the way. Weakly, he grasped the chain that rested around your neck and pulled it from its hiding place, beneath your bodice.
Between his fingers he held the object of your nightmares, the biggest regret of your life, the ring you despised.
“I’m your husband.” He choked, holding the offending object up, the small diamonds glinting in the light of the moon.
“Not by choice.”
Like broken glass, it was as if you could hear his heart breaking.
“You agreed to be mine.” His grip on the ring grew tighter, as did the one on you thigh. “You gave yourself to me.”
You looked down at the desperate man, cringing through the tears you, truly, had no right to shed. You were breaking a man’s heart. A monster of a man who had slain many without an ounce of sorrow, yet still a man who had been subjected to a life of desolation and detestation.
In this moment you truly were a monster. Fear however, outweighed your sympathy.
“I did it for her, you know that.” You whispered. “I’d do anything for my sister, even if it meant giving my freedom to a murderer.”
“Please.” He begged, raising the ring higher between you. “You’re my wife.”
“That ring means nothing to me!” You hissed yanking the chain from his hands. This only seemed to fuel his need to sway your frantic mind.
To save his delicate heart.
He lunged forward, arms coiling round your neck like a venomous serpent, instantly causing you to panic. With all the force you possessed, you pushed and beat at his chest, begging him to let go. His hands fumbled at your neck, pinching and grabbing, ignorant to your futile attempts of escape.
For a moment, for a mere few seconds, you felt as though you were drowning. Your throat constricted, gasping for needed air.
His body was too close. The chain on you neck was squeezing too tightly round your delicate throat.
Time seemed still.
So it all came down to this. Death at the hands of your husband. All for the sake of your sister.
Your vision grew hazy.
It wall all for her. For her happiness.
This was it.
But you were proud to call yourself a sister.
The black fog was setting in.
And you hoped she was to.
Your demise was all but moments away.
Until it snapped.
Air flooded your lungs like a burst dam, only for you to spew it back up in a fit of coughs. Your heart was pounding in your head, effectively blocking that bastard’s insistent rambles and attempts of comforting you.
Weakly, you pushed him away, clutching at your chest as you did so with enough distain in your eyes to slay an army.
“No.” You croaked, tears stinging your eyes.
Almost meekly, he leaned forward, arm outstretched to which you immediately shunned. Grasping the tabletop above, you heaved yourself from the ground, legs quivering beneath you.
Clearly, your near death ordeal had taken its toll on all of you, your legs seeming barely able to carry your weight.
Practically on the verge of collapse, your tormenter hurried to your side, ensnaring you in a tight embrace.
“Leave me be.” You struggled, your throat still burning in a hellish blaze, a fire this man just seemed to ignite spontaneously.
He didn’t answer, only stared in reply.
You would have preferred words. Words were more tangible, somewhat easier to tolerate than his piercing gaze. It took some effort, but after a long, distressed endurance, your eyes met.
It was as if you could read it all from just a look. Feel every emotion he felt, dripping from those weeping eyes. Hope drowned in the tears that failed to fall, despair standing strong against the current of conflict.
You froze.
To be heartless to the man deemed ‘monster’, or to give into the man who could, very well, slaughter you at any given moment.
Throughout your distressed thoughts, he unclenched one of his fists, the gold band, gleaming in the moonlight, lay in the centre of his palm. It’s broken chain lay alone on the floor, the clasp completely ignored in the man’s ignorant attempts to remove it from your, now, blemished neck.
Taking one of your hands into his limp hold, the other still clutched around your weakened form, he delicately placed the gold ring on your finger.
He didn’t let go of it. Absent-mindedly, he twiddled the band around your dainty finger, his eyes downcast.
“You could learn to love me.” He whispered in a voice so soft that a butterfly could have drowned it out.
Finding your feet, you awkwardly placed your hands against his chest, neither wanting to push him away nor wanting such intimate closeness.
It was so unclear.
Did you want this!?
“Learn, or force.” You asked, gazing up at him with uneasiness.
His hollow eyes widened for a brief moment before welling up with tormented ambivalence. It seemed your words had triggered something. He stood stagnant, tense, looking into nothing.
He’d given up.
Self-consciously, you shifted in his hold and noticed how weak his grip had become. Gently, you moved away from him, eliciting no other response than a brief flicker of eye contact.
There he stood. An empty shell of a man, so deep in thought.
Not knowing what more to say, nor were you sure he could hear, you eased yourself away from him. Slowly, you crept over to your original workplace and plucked the only lit candle the room held from the desk. Taking it with you, you began to leave.
And then you stopped.
Peering over your shoulder, you looked at him one last time. His back was fully to you, hunched over and shaking.
It would be a lie to say you didn’t care for him. It would be a lie to say you hated him. It would be a lie to say you loved him.
But, maybe one day. Sadly, that was a day you never wanted to face, that much you were sure.
Looking away, you turned to leave once again.
“Y/N... I-” He rasped.
Your breath hitched, your movements ceased.
You could hear the shifting of cloth from the distance he stood, not growing nearer but the weight of his eyes now hung heavy on your back. He’d turned to look at you, but you remained unmoving.
In those few seconds, the world seemed deathly still.
“I love you.”
Time stopped.
You couldn’t bear to look at him. Not now. If you did, you’d have to witness a helpless man, tears streaming down his deformed face, bearing his heart to you. If you turned around, you would have to endure a man breaking in front of you as you whispered those four words. ’I don’t love you.’
But you didn’t.
Sniffing quietly, you wiped a lone tear from your face as you continued looking onward and uttered the only words you could get out.
“Goodnight, Erik.”
With that, you fled the room-dare you say- a blubbering mess. Taking the rooms only light source with you, you left the forlorn man in utter darkness.
Once more, he was alone in blackness, his only true sanctuary. However, for a place meant only for safety, he had never felt more vulnerable than he did now. Never had he felt more abandoned since his childhood. Never had he felt such despair course through his cold veins.
Was he truly undeserving of love?
His eyes never straying from the door you had departed from mere moments ago, he fell to his knees. A single cry spewed from his thin lips before it merged into an anguished howl, and for the first time, in many years, he prayed.
“God, let her love me!” His head raised to the ceiling, desperate and pleading. “If you’ve ignored me for so long, listen now! Please!”
His prayers became nothing more than muffled sobs, yet he continued to plead.
“Dear God, let her love me.”
Whilst he cried in bitter agony, you sobbed with guilt.
This man, this murderer… your husband, only ever wanted love; and you couldn’t give it him.
You didn’t think you ever could.
Tossing yourself onto your bed, ignorant to the others in your dorm, you curled yourself into a ball, wanting nothing more than to disappear from it all.
Clutching your pillow close, like a child does its teddy, you buried your face into it and wept, wept till you could weep no more, till tiredness overtook your tears.
As darkness fell over you, the cries of the night grew, somewhat clearer, for only a few brief seconds.
“Dear God, let her love me.” He moaned into the night, fully aware no one would listen to his pleas. No one ever had so why was that to change so suddenly?
Once again, he was abandoned. First by his mother and now you.
It wasn’t fair.
‘Dear God, let her love me!’
It just wasn’t fair.
‘Dear God…’

"Let her love me."