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Phoenix	By : LadyMeda Category: M through R > Phantom of the Opera Views: 4486 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any variation thereof. I do not make any money from this fiction. Tags include things that will be in future chapters.

Chapter List
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“Let me go!” Meg cried, fighting to push him away; but Martine held her fast.
“You know... I had half a mind to make you my wife. I thought that you would be content to marry a wealthy gentleman.” He mused as if oblivious to her struggles. “But if a gentleman is not what you want, then so be it!”
Without warning he let her go, and the force of her struggles nearly sent her toppling backwards.
“Leave now, or I'll scream!” Meg threatened as she regained her footing, painfully aware of the less-than-intimidating quiver in her voice.
“Is that so?” Martine scoffed. In a flash his fist moved through the air, hitting her in the stomach so hard that she could scarcely breath. She had no time to recover before he backhanded her across the cheek with enough force to spin her around. Meg crumpled the floor, her vision tunneling as she fought for consciousness. She was only vaguely aware of her surroundings as Martine began to tear her dress into shreds. Somewhere far in the distance of her mind, she heard him speak.
“You little mynx. I visit you every day. I give you gift after gift. And for what? A few stolen kisses? Did you honestly think that after everything I've given you, you could just cast me aside?”
Her vision began to clear as the tips of his boots appeared under her nose, so close she could smell the musk of dirt and leather.
“Don't worry, Mon Cherie.” Martine said as if to comfort her. “I can forgive.”
His tone dropped to a sinister purr. “Besides... once I've had my fill, no other man will want you.”
Meg yelped as he clamped his fingers onto her sore cheeks, forcing her mouth open. A piece of cloth was shoved in. Before she had time to spit it out, another baby blue strip was drawn between her lips like a horse's bit and tied behind her head. Her fingers clawed the carpet as she tried to crawl away, but Martine's hand tangled in her hair. With a terrible yank he flipped her on her back, seizing her wrists as she tried to fight him off.
It took only moments for him to bind her arms to the foot of the bed. She tried desperately to kick him away, but it was fruitless. Before she knew what was happening, he was between her legs; his knees pressing painfully into her thighs to spread them far apart.
Meg tried to suppress a sob as Martine's gruff hand found its way into her bloomers. Desperately she tried to close her legs, but he held them wide open as he explored. A finger grazed over her sensitive nub, making her jolt. She shook her head back and fourth, pleading with her eyes for him to stop.
“Quit your whining.” He hissed as his fingers found her delicate opening. “I've earned this sweet little rosebud, and you know it.”
Meg screamed behind the gag as he cruelly thrust them inside of her.
His eyes closed, a contented smile spreading across his lips as he began to feel around her unready passage. “You had better loosen up, Cherie.” He said as his free hand moved to massage the growing bulge in his pants. “Or the real thing is going to hurt much more.”
A sickening thud reverberated through the room.
Martine lurched forward, eyes growing wide. His hand pulled out of her and moved to clutch his head. Meg watched in shock as a trickle of blood flowed through his fingers and trailed a path down his forehead.

* * * * *
The candlestick Erik held fell to the ground with a clank. He saw Meg's wild eyes as she watched Martine crumple to the floor. Erik should have been happy to see the little whelp fall unconscious at his feet, but all he could think about was making sure Meg was safe.
For a moment she grew frighteningly calm. Her line of sight fell on Erik's shoes and then traveled up his torso. As their eyes met, her body began to shake with silent sobs. He ran to kneel by her side, loosening the gag and sliding it around her neck. His fingers slipped on the crude knots that bound her wrists.
When the bindings finally fell free, she dove into him; burying her face in his chest. He cocooned her in his arms so tightly it was a wonder that she could breath.
And so they stayed, her tiny frame trembling within his hold.
“Oh, my sweet little Meg.” Erik murmered with a cheek against her head. “This is a pain I do not know how to soothe.”
She said nothing; but after a few minutes her sobs began to abate.
“I trusted him.” She sniffled in his arms. “I thought I knew him, but it was all a lie.”
Erik buried his face deeper in her hair. If only he'd found her sooner. If only he hadn't let Martine steal her away on the dance floor. His mind screamed at him a thousand reasons why this was all his fault. “I'm sorry, my love. I'm so very sorry.”
“... my love...” Meg echoed back, but the words were hollow and emotionless. Limb by limb, she unfolded from his embrace. She seemed lost in thought, speaking slowly as if grasping at the words. “I trusted him and he betrayed me. I trust you... but you hide the truth from me. Is there no one I can have faith in?”
“You can trust me, Meg.” Erik swore to her, enveloping her limp hands in his. “I would never harm you.”
Her weary eyes flitted to meet his. “Show me then. Let me know the truth.”
Erik's pulse thrummed nervously in his throat, but he did his best not to look away. “You have already experienced one horror tonight. Why do you want to subject yourself to another?”
She looked at him pleadingly, and offered the one debate he could not argue. “Please...”
Every facet of his psyche yelled at him to walk away. It told him that no good would come of this. It reminded him that no one had ever been able to accept what he truly was. And yet his heart insisted foolishly that this time could be different.
With a sigh that held the hurt of an entire lifetime, Erik raised one of Meg's hands. He brought it up to cup his porcelain cheek, gently guiding her fingers under the edge of the mask.
Together they slowly raised the white veil.
Every second passed as a separate eternity in Erik's mind as she beheld everything that he was. He watched as a fresh wave of tears crested on the oceans of her aqua eyes.
“Thank you.” She breathed, almost too quietly to hear.
In the distance, a muffled voice spoke from behind the closed door. “Meg? Are you alright? I heard strange noises.” Meg gasped and spun around to face it.
Erik heard the sound of the knob turning. He seized his mask and darted for the mirror. It closed behind him just as Meg's friend Annette stepped into the room. He watched through the one-way glass as she nearly slipped on the giant pool of blood that haloed Martine's ashen face.
As he ran down the corridor to the Persian's office, Annette's hysterical scream followed.
- 12
- 13
- 14
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Phoenix