Author's note: Hi! This is my first ever fanfiction effort. I hope that those that read enjoy the story. I don't know how long this will end up, but I hope to make it a good sized fic. Please hit the review button at the bottom and tell me what you think. Please be kind!

Disclaimer: No matter how hard I wish upon a star, I know that the Phantom of the Opera will never be mine. I write purely for my pleasure only. Thank you Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber

This fanfiction will be based on the Movie and Leroux's novel. Just image Gerard Butler as the sexy Phantom! I will be kind to Raoul in this story, and I intend for Eric and Christine to end up together. The power is in my hands! EVIL LAUGH

And now, on with the story…

Christine…

The Phantom of the Opera. Opera Ghost. Angel of Music. He had been called all of these things, and more. Right now, the word murderer was swirling around in his head as the mob that had stormed the catacombs of the Opera House came closer to their goal of finding his lair. Did he want to survive? Escape the mob? He was kneeling on the floor, and could feel the cold, hard ground underneath him. However, everything else felt numb, and he felt detached from all the world. Like that was something new, he thought cynically. His music box was in front of him, and it played softly, as if only for his comfort. Comfort was a strange word for him. He had never known it. His mother had hated him from the moment that she had seen his deformed face. She had given him to the gypsies when he was six. He was poked and prodded by spectators that paid to see the "Devil's Child", and when he wasn't being stared at in repulsion he was beaten regularly. He didn't even have a name, although Madam Giry had decided that Erik was a good name for him. He thought on his only friend for a moment. Marie Giry was really the only reason why he wasn't dead right now, no mater how he wished right now for the release that death would bring. She had always been kind to him, helped him whenever he needed it. She had disapproved of his obsession with Christine. But she didn't understand. No one did! He just wanted to be loved, wanted to find his place in a world that hated him. I have always thought myself a monster, he thought bitterly, but now I truly have nothing left. Christine is gone, I have lost her, did I ever have her, I have made too many horrible choices, if only I could go back! The thoughts flowed through his head quickly. Suddenly he was on his feet, watching Christine and the Vicomte slowly row away from him in his boat.

You alone can make my song take flight…

It's over now, the Music of the Night!

The words burst from him, surprising himself more than the tears that he could see on his Christine's face. Erik turned sharply, picking up a random object as he went. He started shattering the many mirrors that surrounded him. Why had he decided to have mirrors around him? He was a hideous, loathsome creature on the outside, and he realized, on the inside too. He shattered the lost mirror to reveal a secret room in his lair. Can I hide? Do I want to? Do I deserve to live? Erik thought desperately as his decision was made for him as he heard the splashing that signaled the invasion of his lair. He walked inside and closed the curtain. He huddled in the corner of the room, and waited with bated breath.

What was he to do now? He was empty; his soul had fled his body when Christine had left him to his solitude. Erik couldn't blame Christine. He was the way he was; he could make no apologizes for it, only beg for circumstances to be different. Had I been born normal, Erik thought desparately, I could have won Christine's heart. She would have loved me, the world would have heard my music, I would have been happy! He suddenly could hear footsteps and voices all around.

"He's run away! The coward! He can hide in the shadows, but he can't face justice. Where is the Phantom of the Opera! We want him dead!" The man who spoke the words looked around wildly, as if expecting the Phantom to appear at his fighting words.

"Maybe he left. You know, we weren't exactly quiet as we came down." A young girl spoke this time. It was Meg Giry, Marie Giry's only daughter. "And look! I have his mask!"

The mob, which had been so loud and obnoxious, quieted at her words.

"What does this mean?" A stagehand asked anxiously.

"It means he's gone!" Someone yelled in the back.

The first man who spoke smiled with no mirth. "Well everyone, let's not let all these wonderful things go to waste and dust down here. Let's take what we want!"

At these words, Erik almost started out of his hiding place. He didn't want to see his only home destroyed. His music, his small meaningful possessions meant the world to me. You were willing to trade them a second ago, Erik thought bitterly. He knew he would have given anything for Christine to stay with him. But a part of him, albeit a small part of him, was glad that she had gone with the Vicomte. If she had stayed, she would be huddled in this small room, hoping that the mob didn't discover the room. He wondered for a moment what her presence here would do to him. I wouldn't be able to think, he thought wirily. No, no matter what he wanted, no matter how much he wished she could have stayed with him, the rational part of Erik's mind knew, without a doubt, that Christine would have everything her heart desired with a Vicomte as a husband. It was the best thing for Christine, even if it left him broken and alone.

"Hey I want that! I claimed it, I'm the leader." came a voice right from outside the curtain.

"Well tooooo bad! You should have been faster!" came a reply, to Erik's horror, right in front of his curtain.

"Ah a big shot, right? If you don't give that to me, I will make sure you see your dear mother in Hell!"

Two shots were fired in succession. The women in the mob screamed. Everyone surged forward. "We were here to find a murderer not commit one!" screamed Meg Giry, her eyes wide with shock. She was still holding the Phantom's mask. The mob surged upon the man left standing in the shoot out and grabbed him, ready to take him into custody.

The man turned, and said to the dead body, "Too bad that you missed!"

Erik, from behind the curtain, looked at his chest in shock as the blood started to pour from the small wound there.

"Ahh, but you didn't" Erik said softly, admiring the ironic nature of his situation as darkness rose to claim him.