A Second Chance
folder
M through R › Phantom of the Opera
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
17
Views:
6,390
Reviews:
14
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Phantom of the Opera
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
17
Views:
6,390
Reviews:
14
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I don't own the Phantom of the Opera, and make no money from this story.
Chapter Five
DISCLAIMER:
Title: A Second Chance.
Author: Larissa
Summary: She has the courage to save his life and give him a new one. Based on Susan Kay's and Gerard Butler's phantom.
Rating: R.
Pairing(s): Erik/Melanie and Erik/Christine.
Feedback: desired and appreciated.
Characters: Erik from Susan Kay's book "Phantom" and from Gerard Butler's interpretation.
Disclaimer: I do not own Erik, Christina and Daroga. The other characters listed in this story are all mine. I do not make any money out of it.
*********************************
Melanie could not sustain his gaze. She lowered her face thinking how could she tell him what she knew about him? Especially about his deformity, the cause of all the bad things he did, his solitude, his unfortunate fate.
She looked at him again and spoke softly as she caressed his big, powerful hand.
“Erik, I do not know much about you. All I know is that you are an artist, a wonderful magician. I was told you are a great architect as well. However, my father told me he knows a man who can talk to you and answer all your questions. I just want to ask you to have a little patience and wait until he gets here.”
“If you stay near me, I will be the most patient man in the world. Now, please, tell me more about you.”
Melanie felt her face getting warmer as he said those words.
“There is not much to tell. I was born in this farm and lived here my whole life. I’m 21 years old. I like ridding horses, playing my piano.”
“You’ve got a piano in this house?”
“And a violin which was my mother’s. She played very well.”
“What kind of music do you like, Melanie?”
They stood there talking about composers and music until a servant came and said her father was calling.
“Wait here Erik. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“As you wish, my dear.”
She reluctantly let go of his hand, left the room and headed to her father’s which was located on the other side of the corridor.
She found the door opened and walked inside the room to find her father sitting on a easy chair in front of the fireplace.
“Melanie. The man I told you about, the man who knows Erik... His name is Daroga, the Persian, as we know him. I’ve sent him a message and he will be here any minute to take care of this matter. We give Erik to him and he is no longer our responsibility.”
“What? Father. I cannot believe you are referring to this man as a “matter”. He is a human being! And a very suffered one! All he needs is a bit of peace. If he were bad, he would have shown it already…”
“He destroyed half of the room!” the duke shouted turning around to face her.
“That only proves my point and does not mean he is bad. He is scared. He does not know who he is, for Christ sake! How would you feel, sir, if you were in his place?”
“What he is, in fact, is much worse than his memory loss. I know more about him than you imagine, Melanie. I had more contact with him than you know.” The duke stood up and walked to the fireplace, placing one hand on the stoned wall and leaning forward to observe the flames which danced on a piece of log and colored his face with red.
“What do you mean, daddy? How do you know him? Why?”
The duke was interrupted by a terrible cry and the noise of shattered glass came from the corridor.
“No, not again. This man will destroy the house!”
Melanie was not listening to him since she was running down the corridor towards the noise.
******************
Erik watched the young woman leave the room. He felt such attraction for her, as if no one had ever treated him with care. She warmed his heart, his senses and his entire body. When she touched him, he was excited, wanting to touch her, to kiss her, to make her his.
He needed all his strength to control himself, when they were sitting on the bed talking, not to push her down and make love to her until they both couldn’t move anymore.
He shook his head and stood up, realizing he was a bit too excited to leave the room. He poured himself a glass of water from the jar which was on the table by the bed and resisted his fury. Then he threw some water on his face and neck to cool of.
Passing his hand over his face he felt the distorted features, the rough skin. His eyes widened as he explored the right side of his face and head. He touched the few, thin hair and gasped.
He ran to the corridor in search of a mirror. He opened the first door he found and reached Melanie’s room. Slowly, he walked towards the mirror which hang on one of the walls.
Her perfume was on the air. Right in the center of the room stood her bed, with a canopy and curtains that fell to the ground, surrounding the bed gracefully.
He looked to the bed and leaned forward, passing his hand over the soft sheets. A light crossed before his eyes and he remembered a woman. She was lying down on a swan shaped bed with dark red sheets as soft as these. Her eyes were closed and her curly brown hair was spread across the pillow. He reached out and touched one lock of her hair.
He jumped up and opened his eyes. Anguish and sorrow crushing his chest. He looked around and was face to face with the mirror. Face to face with a deformed monster that looked shocked at him mimicking his own expression.
He screamed in terror, bringing his hands to his face and covering it digging his nails in his rammed flesh. Looking back up, he was once again facing the demon. Anger filled him and he threw himself against the mirror, punching it, shattering the mirror to pieces and hurting his hands and arms.
He cried and let himself fall to the floor.
“No, this can’t be me. It’s a monster, an evil spirit.” He said to himself between sobs.
Melanie entered the room and found him curled on the floor, crying. She walked towards him.
He looked at her and stood up. Suddenly he grabbed her by the arms and began shaking her.
“Please, tell me that thing isn’t me! That in the mirror is not my reflection… please.” As he finished his sentence his voice was barely a whisper and his grip on her arms was barely a touch.
She cloud not speak as tears rolled down her face. Her arms were hurting from the pressure those big hands applied to them.
“Erik, you are bleeding. Let me take care of those cuts. Then we can talk. None of what you saw in that mirror matters. The only important thing is your heart, your spirit, your sensibility.” She managed to say.
He let go of her, leaving the marks of his hands on her skin and the blood on her dress.
“If I am so ugly, how could have the guts to come close to me… to touch me, to kiss me on the face. Aren’t you disgusted by me?” his voice was weak and trembling.
“God, no! I have always dreamed of meeting you! I have heard so many stories about you. Some of terror, others of admiration, love. Many people said you were a ghost, result of the people’s imagination.”
“A ghost?”
“Yes. A phantom. The phantom of the opera of Paris.”
In that moment, Melanie’s father entered the room. He stopped looking first at his daughter and then at Erik and finally at the shattered mirror.
“The Persian is here. I think we better go downstairs, the three of us, to talk to him. He will tell you all about your past Erik.” He said that in a harsh tone and turned on his heels to leave the room.
Melanie took Erik’s hand and gave it and reassuring squeeze. He looked at her and nodded as they followed her father out of the room and down the stairs.
Title: A Second Chance.
Author: Larissa
Summary: She has the courage to save his life and give him a new one. Based on Susan Kay's and Gerard Butler's phantom.
Rating: R.
Pairing(s): Erik/Melanie and Erik/Christine.
Feedback: desired and appreciated.
Characters: Erik from Susan Kay's book "Phantom" and from Gerard Butler's interpretation.
Disclaimer: I do not own Erik, Christina and Daroga. The other characters listed in this story are all mine. I do not make any money out of it.
*********************************
Melanie could not sustain his gaze. She lowered her face thinking how could she tell him what she knew about him? Especially about his deformity, the cause of all the bad things he did, his solitude, his unfortunate fate.
She looked at him again and spoke softly as she caressed his big, powerful hand.
“Erik, I do not know much about you. All I know is that you are an artist, a wonderful magician. I was told you are a great architect as well. However, my father told me he knows a man who can talk to you and answer all your questions. I just want to ask you to have a little patience and wait until he gets here.”
“If you stay near me, I will be the most patient man in the world. Now, please, tell me more about you.”
Melanie felt her face getting warmer as he said those words.
“There is not much to tell. I was born in this farm and lived here my whole life. I’m 21 years old. I like ridding horses, playing my piano.”
“You’ve got a piano in this house?”
“And a violin which was my mother’s. She played very well.”
“What kind of music do you like, Melanie?”
They stood there talking about composers and music until a servant came and said her father was calling.
“Wait here Erik. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“As you wish, my dear.”
She reluctantly let go of his hand, left the room and headed to her father’s which was located on the other side of the corridor.
She found the door opened and walked inside the room to find her father sitting on a easy chair in front of the fireplace.
“Melanie. The man I told you about, the man who knows Erik... His name is Daroga, the Persian, as we know him. I’ve sent him a message and he will be here any minute to take care of this matter. We give Erik to him and he is no longer our responsibility.”
“What? Father. I cannot believe you are referring to this man as a “matter”. He is a human being! And a very suffered one! All he needs is a bit of peace. If he were bad, he would have shown it already…”
“He destroyed half of the room!” the duke shouted turning around to face her.
“That only proves my point and does not mean he is bad. He is scared. He does not know who he is, for Christ sake! How would you feel, sir, if you were in his place?”
“What he is, in fact, is much worse than his memory loss. I know more about him than you imagine, Melanie. I had more contact with him than you know.” The duke stood up and walked to the fireplace, placing one hand on the stoned wall and leaning forward to observe the flames which danced on a piece of log and colored his face with red.
“What do you mean, daddy? How do you know him? Why?”
The duke was interrupted by a terrible cry and the noise of shattered glass came from the corridor.
“No, not again. This man will destroy the house!”
Melanie was not listening to him since she was running down the corridor towards the noise.
******************
Erik watched the young woman leave the room. He felt such attraction for her, as if no one had ever treated him with care. She warmed his heart, his senses and his entire body. When she touched him, he was excited, wanting to touch her, to kiss her, to make her his.
He needed all his strength to control himself, when they were sitting on the bed talking, not to push her down and make love to her until they both couldn’t move anymore.
He shook his head and stood up, realizing he was a bit too excited to leave the room. He poured himself a glass of water from the jar which was on the table by the bed and resisted his fury. Then he threw some water on his face and neck to cool of.
Passing his hand over his face he felt the distorted features, the rough skin. His eyes widened as he explored the right side of his face and head. He touched the few, thin hair and gasped.
He ran to the corridor in search of a mirror. He opened the first door he found and reached Melanie’s room. Slowly, he walked towards the mirror which hang on one of the walls.
Her perfume was on the air. Right in the center of the room stood her bed, with a canopy and curtains that fell to the ground, surrounding the bed gracefully.
He looked to the bed and leaned forward, passing his hand over the soft sheets. A light crossed before his eyes and he remembered a woman. She was lying down on a swan shaped bed with dark red sheets as soft as these. Her eyes were closed and her curly brown hair was spread across the pillow. He reached out and touched one lock of her hair.
He jumped up and opened his eyes. Anguish and sorrow crushing his chest. He looked around and was face to face with the mirror. Face to face with a deformed monster that looked shocked at him mimicking his own expression.
He screamed in terror, bringing his hands to his face and covering it digging his nails in his rammed flesh. Looking back up, he was once again facing the demon. Anger filled him and he threw himself against the mirror, punching it, shattering the mirror to pieces and hurting his hands and arms.
He cried and let himself fall to the floor.
“No, this can’t be me. It’s a monster, an evil spirit.” He said to himself between sobs.
Melanie entered the room and found him curled on the floor, crying. She walked towards him.
He looked at her and stood up. Suddenly he grabbed her by the arms and began shaking her.
“Please, tell me that thing isn’t me! That in the mirror is not my reflection… please.” As he finished his sentence his voice was barely a whisper and his grip on her arms was barely a touch.
She cloud not speak as tears rolled down her face. Her arms were hurting from the pressure those big hands applied to them.
“Erik, you are bleeding. Let me take care of those cuts. Then we can talk. None of what you saw in that mirror matters. The only important thing is your heart, your spirit, your sensibility.” She managed to say.
He let go of her, leaving the marks of his hands on her skin and the blood on her dress.
“If I am so ugly, how could have the guts to come close to me… to touch me, to kiss me on the face. Aren’t you disgusted by me?” his voice was weak and trembling.
“God, no! I have always dreamed of meeting you! I have heard so many stories about you. Some of terror, others of admiration, love. Many people said you were a ghost, result of the people’s imagination.”
“A ghost?”
“Yes. A phantom. The phantom of the opera of Paris.”
In that moment, Melanie’s father entered the room. He stopped looking first at his daughter and then at Erik and finally at the shattered mirror.
“The Persian is here. I think we better go downstairs, the three of us, to talk to him. He will tell you all about your past Erik.” He said that in a harsh tone and turned on his heels to leave the room.
Melanie took Erik’s hand and gave it and reassuring squeeze. He looked at her and nodded as they followed her father out of the room and down the stairs.