Alone. With no one but his thoughts. His meaning in life was taken away from him. There he lived, under the grounds of Paris in his theater known as the Opera Populaire.

Darkness penetrated what was left of the once known Phantom of the Opera. His theater lied burned completely in ashes in most places, where as other areas stood tall as it once did two years ago but, covered in dust and ash. The Phantom's lair was left untouched and held no damage from the fire. He lied in his worn out bed, sleeping for what he hoped to be a dreamless sleep.

"'Masquerade...paper faces on parade...Masquerade...hide your face so the world will never find you."' The Phantom sang, with music coming out of a music box in the shape of a monkey.

This dream he was having was all too familiar. The Phantom never allowed himself to think of the past, but his subconscience thinks otherwise.

"Say you'll share with me, on love, one lifetime..." Two voices sang, one of which he loathed, and the other of which he had once loved. Or of what he once believed to be love.

The Phantom awoke with a cold sweat across his face. He buried his face in his hands when he came to the realization he was only dreaming. He was separated from the only person he learned to love. But he never received love in return, due to the hideous and grotesque half deformed face, which was hidden behind a white mask.

This women was Christine Daaé. Her voice was his reason to live. He found meaning, love, and realness in her singing, and longed for her to be his. But he was never good enough. An outcast and a mystery. She could not accept the man under the mask. She had fallen in love with Raoul, a man who had eveyrthing. Christine and Raoul ran off together not long after he released them both from his lair, unharmed. But he could not blame them. They had been apart for two long years. Two very lonely, long dreadful years.

How could he have been so foolish, so blinded? She could have never loved him, this monster, a murderer. The Phantom had decided to forget of the women who long ago stole his heart and to never think of her again. The Phantom was to start over by using his real name if anyone asked, he was to start a new beginning.

He got up and started to light the candles throughout his lair, though he preferred darkness and found it comforting. He took a look around his home, which was something he had not done in awhile. Numerous cobwebs along with layers of dust lied on every inch of his home. His only home. He walked around looking at the shattered glass of empty rum, wine, and scotch bottles. He often drank to clear his mind, or to pass out all together. But not today, he was tired of feeling pity for himself. The Phantom needed to do something to do to clear his mind, by the looks of it, cleaning was the simplest solution.

On days like this, normally the Phantom would sit down and compose music that once lingered inside his soul. Or what was once a soul. His beautiful pipe organ, sat there in his lair, untouched for a little over two years. It was clearly not in it's best shape and probably would wheeze a note if he tried.

But playing music was not help him in achieving his goal in clearing his mind, it would only turn into sorrow, melancholy music of which his insides possessed. But the Phantom could not stand his lack of care for his musical instrument, and cleaned the layers of dust inside it. He placed his index finger onto a single key of the pipe organ. A long musical note filled the room.

Ah, much better.

Most of his possessions where misplaced and thrown across the room broken, due to his anger. He came across a broken music box in shape of a monkey.

The Phantom longed to here the monkey sing it's tune of which he once made lyrics to. He had broken it not long after Christi- NO! He promised himself he would not think of her, but usually had little success. He then abandoned the idea of cleaning his lair and thought of cleaning where the damage far worse. His Opera House.

As he began to approach his boat which led him out of his lair, he stopped and looked into his mirror. He was wearing one of his many black suits with a dark purple vest, along with black pants, his cape, black gloves, and the half mask the covered the true monster of what he believed he was.

My Opera house, destroyed because of me. My Opera house on which I spent years building.His Opera House was destroyed because of his two very hands, that were now placed upon his white mask, looking into the mirror hating what the reflection had to provide.

He then turned away from the mirror, not bearing to look at the monster in the reflection any longer. The Phantom made his way through his lair, to the pitch black corridor, which led to a dressing room mirror. He had once hid behind there, luring Christine Daaé into his home by telling her that he was her Angel of Music.

He slid open the mirror, walked out of the abandoned dressing room, and into his Opera House which was once full of life and sweet melodies of music. The Phantom stood in box five, his favorite seating area to watch Chri- NO! He must stop thinking of her. He stood staring onto the stage that was covered in ash, dust, and cobwebs. The stage needed lots of work.

His Opera House was commonly a place were children seek to find adventure or to use as a jungle gym. Many children sat in the dark telling scary stories of the Opera Ghost. All of the children believed he died within the fire, and was pleased to hear so. He didn't want people to know he was alive, and little did he want to be alive as well.

Why did he eavesdrop on the juvenile children tell their foolish stories, while lurking in the dark where he lied unseen? He did not know. Perhaps it was because loneliness was beginning to be unbearable.

The Opera Ghost jumped off box five onto the stage with much ease. There was a chandelier upon the stage, of which he broke prior to the fire in his Opera House. He examined the damage to the chandelier and knew he would be able to fix it without a problem.

Soon his Opera House would be restored to the way it once was before his obsession with the voice he will never forget began.