Disclaimer: I do not own POTO. This is a prequel to my story Point of No Return(not complete as of 4/11/10) so read that first, then maybe read this.

Chapter 1: Broken Dreams and Crushed Hopes

By PittsBuurghFuzz

Erik? Why did you let Christine go? You know you could have kept her here and kill Raoul. No, I love her too much to ruin her happiness. I have already ruined her life enough, it was too much for her that she kissed a gargoyle like myself. Erik? You have just abandoned the only thing you've ever lived for! She could have learned to love the man, as opposed to the monster. No, she knew me too well as the monster to ever let me be her angel of music. Well, I think the police are leaving.

"Mademoiselle, we have to leave, there is no phantom." a soldier said to Meg.

Looking at Erik's mask, Meg turned and replied: "Alright then, let's go back up."

When they were far enough, Erik came out of his secret spot and approached his lair. He looked into the mirror, angrily.

'How can i hope to have someone fall for me when I can't even stand my own face!" Erik yelled.

Erik went to his beautiful organ. This piece of equipment once mattered to him, but it was now a reminder that he was alone. He went to his rarely used bed and remembered when Christine sang for Carlotta and came to his lair. She was so peaceful when she slept. Erik had all the aces in the hole, except he did not anticipate one thing: Raoul! If he wasn't involved, Erik would be happy with Christine forever.

" And I would always be there singing songs in your head." Erik stated to himself.

He remembered when Christine gave him back the engagement ring. He teared at the thought. He managed to climb onto his bed, the first in a long time, and stared into the ceiling. I wish I could hear Christine sing again. That always soothed my spirits. Erik got off of his bed, and like a cadaverous zombie, limped to his organ. He played, but it was uninspired music. Why is this music terrible? Not only did I lose my angel, but I can barely play? Erik was able to play, but he was uninterested in doing so. Sure it seemed willing, but he was only doing it to help with his pains. Erik then stared at his lake. It was an endless infinity that led to were Erik, truly, but did not want to belong to. I want to live amongst the normal people, have a family, and die happily, but no, I am already dead and still feeling agony! I thought death was the end of suffering; unless I am in hell. Yes! I have to be in hell for all this to happen!

Erik then walked over to his wine collection. He did not drink during the whole Christine situation. I need this! It is the only way for me to forget about my pains! Where should I start? Erik picked up a bottle.

"Yes, 1789, a good year." Erik said happily. He started to gorge himself in alcohol. He was not drunk at first, but after a few bottles, it really started to take its toll on Erik. He was bumping into things and was singing random things at his organ while playing. Then, a person came down. He opened the gate and saw Erik drunk. He slapped Erik in the face.

"Erik!" the man yelled. "I thought you had more dignity than this?"

"What?" Erik said, barely understandable. "I d-d-do n-n-not need y-y-your help, you funny looking, BLAH!" Erik then threw up all over the ground, The man took notice of all of the bottles lying around.

"Erik! It is me your friend! The daroga!" the man pleaded.

"The Persian?"