G/T Adventures

Past the Point of No Return (Phantom of the Opera)

The 2004 one with Gerard Butler.

Anger and pure hatred bubbling in his chest, The Phantom picked up a candlestick and smashed one of the many mirrors around him. "Curse this face, that earned a mother's hate! Curse the ones who showed me no compassion!"

Mirror shards flew in many different directions. Some pieces cut his black overshirt while the others made a light tinkling noise against the stone flooring. 

"Christine. If only you had listened to your Angel of Music, perhaps we could have avoided this bloodshed." He gazed at himself in the broken mirror, his hand subconsciously raising to the white mask on his face. 

From the corner of his eye, there was movement. Had he not caught a flash of blue, he would have simply brushed it off as one of the several dozens of rats that resided in this labyrinth with him.

Curiously he stepped toward the piles of curtains. "What sort of creature has accidentally revealed itself?" He questioned aloud, head tilting to one side. 

His black gloved fingers gripped the fabric and ripped them back from where they were, uncovering what to him at first appeared to be a doll. But then it moved. 

A tiny pair of hazel eyes stared right back at him, long blonde hair draped over slim shoulders. Her frame, though tiny, was similar to that of Christine Daae's and it only made him angrier. 

"Who are you?! One of them?!" His gloved fingers easily wrapped around her body in an iron grip to the point when she spoke she sounded as if she was gasping for air.

The miniature female gasped, her body wriggling against his hand. "O-One of wh-who?! P-Please, I-I can't-"

The Phantom interrupted with a harsh voice, his grip tightening around her. "What are you?! Where did you come from?!"

"I-I don't know what I-I am! B-But I'm running away! F-From a man, h-he kept me locked in a cage, I-I went through the sewers and wound up here j-just as you were smashing the mirrors!" her voice full of fear and pain, her hazel eyes never left his single uncovered one. 

Her words made his fingers slowly loosen from around her. "A...cage. You were locked up?" The harsh tone faded and again he looked into the broken mirror at his mask.

The Phantom moved the tiny female into an open palm, one gloved finger pushing her shiny blonde locks out of the way of her face. "What is your name?"

"M-My name is Harlot."

"That is not a name. Is that what he called you?" His brows furrowed. Curious and now able to sympathize with this being, he slowly seated himself on the stone floor. When 'Harlot' nodded in response to his question, he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Can I call you Abella?"

"I-I don't understand. B-But I guess so. What is your name? Why do you wear a mask?" SHe seemed to be getting more comfortable, and she shifted so she was sitting on her knees in his palm.

The Phantom now had to pause, a slight frown taking place on his lips. "No one has ever asked me that question before. They all...usually turn away from me. It's Erik." He didn't wish to reveal anything about his true self for fear of scaring this small being that didn't even have a true name. "As for this mask I-I must wear it."

"Please, take it off. I won't be afraid. I-I won't run, I promise." Abella offered a gentle smile. One he's never seen from anyone. 

Hesitantly, Erik lifted a hand to the mask on his face. "The music is all I have. I've never experienced anyone loving me, no one has ever shown me any compassion. No one has ever looked at me and not turned away in disgust. Horror. Why would you be any different?"

Abella met his sad gaze and her tiny heart ached. She knew nothing about him, but she did know one thing. "B-Because I know what it's like to be treated like nothing. Trampled on. Quite literally in that sense."

He gripped the mask and decided to turn away. He's seen enough to know just what her reaction would be, and then she'd scurry back to wherever she came from. Slowly, he pulled it off of his face and waited. 

A gasp of horror, then silence. The tiny weight shifted on his palm and suddenly he could feel her scaling his arm. It was an odd sensation, and when he finally looked back he found her struggling to stand on his shoulder near the deformed side of his face. 

One of her tiny hands reached out and touched his skin. It sent chills down his spine. Her hand, though small, was warm and gentle. A kind of touch he's hardly, if never, experienced.

"I'm so sorry that people turn from you, just because you're different," Abella whispered, never taking her hand off of his face.

Tears brimmed in his eyes and he looked at her, one of his hands cupping nearby to keep her from falling. "I-I don't understand." The Phantom whispered, now curling his fingers gently around her tiny body. 

A warm smile was on her face, and she spoke her next words without hesitation. "You clearly can be kind, and gentle. As I'm seeing now. I-I won't lie, it's frightening to look at but I would never hate you for it."

Inside of him, Erik felt a lightness in his heart. One he usually only felt when he would hear Christine sing. But this tiny female, who knew nothing about him and first experience with him involved fear wasn't shoving him away because of his face. 

As tears began to roll down his cheeks, he cupped Abella against his body, his fingers curling up as if to shield her from anyone who would dare lay a finger on her. 

It was a new feeling. A strange one. However, he wanted to keep her to himself. No one else would lay a hand on his own little angel who he felt was sent from God himself. A God that maybe finally showed him mercy.