The prison of his mind

Author's note: I am well aware that the scarcity of the phantom is probably a large disappointment so far, but please rest assured that he is a pivotal part of this tale, but to introduce him too quickly will shatter the illusion of the world I've created thus far, and make it continue at far too quick a speed.

And so Dear Readers, I appreciate your patience and your reviews, please read on.
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Chapter 2: The bird is finally freed from her cage

"What is this filth!?"

Hannah could hear the dim sound of screeching from downstairs, and she covered her ears at the deafening sound of it. It was much too shrill, much to harsh a sound for her ears to take. Not surprisingly she depended on her ears quite often to get her through the days that passed, and to hear such unearthly shrieks made her feel as if she were damaging the last of what she had.

She hadn't been born blind, it had been something that occurred to her around the age of seven. The doctors hadn't been able to save her, and it had devastated her mother, who had intended to show her the greatest artworks of all time and now never could. Hannah could still faintly recall the images if she tried hard enough. She was able to recreate new faces, she was able to see faces, animals and so forth in her mind if she traced over the features...although the color was never completely right, she was sure.

It was her Aunt downstairs surely, yelling at the cook no doubt. The poor starving woman of thirty who barely spoke a word of French, though Hannah had wished for them to have a shared sense of camaraderie, Hannah knew she was only seen as extra baggage to the older woman.

She was now in the confines of her room, and the night was slowly approaching. Her heart was thumping painfully in her chest, and her hands clenched into an ugly looking fist. Her nails bit so deeply into the palm of her hands, she could feel the half moon shapes they left behind. She was tense...tense with the knowledge of what was to come.

Yes, she was on a mission like none other. Who was she? A poor blind girl desperate to have her vengeance on a man that may not even exist today? She had heard the stories in town, had heard her Aunt's retelling of her poor brother's death to neighbors that came to visit. She had received the best of information from the stable boy, Thomas that she often ran into when going to fetch milk.

"His real name is Erik." Thomas said with an awed tone of voice. "He was born a monster, so deformed that not even his own mother would keep him. He's an evil genius that one, lived in the underbelly of the Opera house for all his life. He's a musician, architect, artist...as if God was making up for the monstrosity of a face he'd created."

"Oh..." Hannah's heart had thrummed then. While she knew that the Opera Ghost was part tale, and part truth, he was still a character on a normal basis she would have loathed to meet. A part of her was pained at the knowledge that this was the monster that had murdered her parents without the slightest care.

"What happened then?"

"He fell in love with a soprano there, Christine Daae, and he tutored her under the guise of being some angel of music. Poor girl fell for it. " Thomas was sure not to introduce the chandelier's fall, for Hannah was well versed in it's telling. "And even though she was in love with the vicomte deChagny, Erik stole her away and kept her in his underground lair. She couldn't escape even if she wanted to."

"But, did she want to?"

Thomas looked to the girl in surprise at her brash words, "Why, of course she did. Why wouldn't she want to?"

Hannah grew silent a moment before venturing her guess. "Perhaps she was in love with him."

"How can you love a monster like that?" Thomas asked as if the response were the most idiotic he'd ever heard. Hannah's face had been downcast as she replied torn.

"I don't know."



Thomas was one to be trusted, and unlike the cook, Thomas had a shared sense of friendship with Hannah, despite her infirmary. Best of all, she couldn't recall a time in their meeting when she'd ever been overcome with pity from her companion. He was a rare one in a world of today, a world where there was no room for imperfection. No room for the blind, the poor, the ugly. It was a disgusting fact of life, and one she could never accept.

It was Thomas in fact who was assisting her in her mission to escape from her Aunt's clutches. He had promised her safe passage into town if she was able to make it to the stable in time without being caught.

Thomas was a special man, that was for sure. Only four years her senior, and a capable worker. Hannah didn't try to fool herself into thinking she felt nothing for him, any girl in her position would.

She recalled a moment scarcely two years before, in the summer weather when they'd taken a walk down to the pond on the grounds of her Aunt. Her Aunt had been out at some show, and Hannah had finished all chores.



"Come on." Thomas had urged, "It's the most refreshing thing you'll ever experience."

Hannah had been reluctant, "I haven't a swim costume."

"That doesn't matter!"

Moments later he had brought her to the bank, and she could hear the rustling of clothing being removed. "C'mon, what are you waiting for?"

She'd paled and touched the hem of her dress at his words. She was not the type to run stark naked into a pond with anyone, least of all a grown man.

"You're suggesting I disrobe completely?"

There had been a merry and ultimately innocent laugh from Thomas before she'd felt him at her side. She felt strong fingers at the side of her dress where the buttons did reside. "Of course not Hannah, just take off this heavy overdress."

Hannah had been hesitant, but the feel of his fingertips brushing against her hip and side had urged her to be freer, as he undid all of her buttons. He'd paused then, slowly peeling off the top layer of her dress to reveal skin he'd only imagined.

"Right." Hannah had said awkwardly, shimming out of her top layer and shoes. She stood beside him in her under dress, her heart soaring as he gently clasped her hand in his own.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

Without warning she felt herself being picked up into his arms, and she gasped in surprise. She had felt the strong muscle underneath her innocent hand, and in a matter of seconds he had jumped with her into the deep pond, and had submerged them both.

They came sputtering to the top moments later, with Thomas' hands still around her waist. He had guided her from the bottom of the pond to the top, as if afraid she'd drown.

"It's glorious!" She'd cried when they made it to the top. And it had been. With the sun shining down on the cool water it was a perfect combination.

"I told you." Thomas teased, his voice very near her ear. There had been a moment of unease before Hannah had taken a deep breath and raised her right hand slightly out of the water they were neck deep in.

"Thomas." Hannah had inquired softly, "May I touch your face?"

"If you wish."

There had been no hesitation in that voice, only welcome to her inquiry. Ever so slowly she had made the transition over to his cheek. She thought that she detected a sigh, but it may have been her own.

Her hands traveled around his face, feeling the soft contours of his well-defined face. The chiseled chin, the strong nose and deep-set eyes. It was her lips that had her barely breathing, the slow and gentle travel of her fingertip over what she discovered was a fairly full lower lip. Slowly the exploration of his face needed to come to an end.

It was then that she'd felt the warmth of breath on her cheek, and believed that for a minute, Thomas intended to kiss her. Their breathing was ragged, and the desire to feel his mouth against her own was maddening.

"Hannah?"

Hannah's body had jerked at the distant sound of her name. Her Aunt was calling for her! She'd wrenched from Thomas' grip and rushed up the bank for her clothing.

"I'm sorry Thomas." She said in shame. She'd just thrown herself at him! Had she no shame? No dignity? She didn't dare wait to hear his response as she pulled on her dress and hurried towards the house, but instead only called out over her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry."



And she was. Sorry that Thomas hadn't kissed her. Sorry that she'd rushed from his grip the moment her Aunt called. Sorry that she had never said anything better.

Hannah didn't fool herself into Thomas seeing her as anything but the poor blind girl who'd lost her parents. And after that horrible experience, their relationship while still fairly the same, was at times strained.

But she had grown up in those two years. Thomas was an idealistic time in her young life when she'd believed in romantic love. In a love that would overcome all obstacles, but she knew there was no such thing. Unconditional romantic love was a story, much like that of the Angel of music that Thomas had indulged her with...there simply was no such thing.

Hours went by, dinner came and went and Hannah was retiring to her lodges for the night. Her Aunt had said nothing to her the entire time about her prior notions of something being different, and she was thankful.

She closed the door behind her, falling to her knees and feeling for her bed. Under it was her small treasure cove, her small cloth filled with currency. She wasn't exactly sure as to how much lay within it, but certain coins had a particular surface feel to them, and so she was sure she'd get by.

She tied the cloth tightly, placing it back under her bed and walking slowly to her closet where she felt for her baggage, for about the thirtieth time in two days as if she was convinced she'd been caught. But no, it still lay in its same position hidden under several blankets.

She made her five steps back to the bed and sat on its edge nervously. Now on her comforting bed, she was feeling the first tinges of regret, and this did little for her spirit.

This plan was all set up, her bags were packed, and her mind was almost made up. What was holding her back? Thomas? Surely not. Or was it something deeper? Fear? Fear of not finding her Phantom? Fear of dying on the streets because of some vendetta? Perhaps.

But it was too late for fear or regret.

With this in mind, she allowed herself to replay the one scene in her head that was her personal motivation. The one scene that made all of this inner turmoil worth it.

It was of her, stabbing to death that horrid Phantom. That loathsome creature of darkness. That putrid piece of flesh that didn't deserve to breath the same air as those on the surface. His face was blurred, but the white mask of her imagination was prevalent.

They had been sword fighting in this fantasy of hers, a trade her father had trained her in for most of her life out of her interest. She had been valiant. She had fought with all her might, blood running down her arm, but then, in a most triumphant slice of sword fighting expertise, she had plunged the tip of the long sword into his chest. The grisly crunching of bone against her sword had been adrenaline inducing, and the imagined sound of his terrified screams elated her.

"For my parents." She had ground out as she drove the sword deeper. Seeing the horrified eyes of her tormentor bulging out until they grew dim and lifeless. The victory, the triumph she felt over this creature was immense.

Even now sitting on her bed, she had tensed as if preparing for this imaginary scenario. She didn't care that this had become obsessive, all she cared was for her revenge for herself and parents.

The clock chimed midnight then, and Hannah allowed herself a deep breath. She slowly opened the door to her room and tilted her head...no sound. The house was still and silent, and she closed the door once more.

She gathered her belongings, money and all, and placed them into the large luggage bag she'd retrieved from her closet, ever so quietly. She waited a moment in silence and feared for the worst.

Suddenly she heard the faint pinging of pebbles against her windowpane and held her breath a moment, for she thought she heard a creaking from the hallway.

No, it was only her imagination.

Slowly the luggage was brought to the window that she opened slowly. No words were spoken from the figure down below waiting, and she was thankful. Any extra sound and she feared her Aunt would awaken, and she would be trapped forever.

The luggage was thrown then from her window, into the open arms of her partner in this shadowy mission, Thomas. He watched as she nodded into nothingness and closed the window behind her, as he then rushed with her luggage to the stable.

Hannah pulled on her cloak then, letting the hood of it fall over her, for fear of being recognized before they were able to escape completely. A deep breath and a clutch of her cane, and she was ready to depart forever.

It was a strange feeling of sadness that overtook her then, strange mainly since she had hated living in this prison for so long. But it was familiar, and it was consistent, and while she hated her Aunt for all she'd done, and Francis for all he hadn't, she was going to miss those that she had come to know and care for.

She clutched the cane tightly, and lifted it from the floor. She wouldn't need it yet. She groped blindly in front of her until she'd reached the doorframe. Then she'd plunged into the darkness of the mansion, taking five steps here and twenty there. Careful not to bump into the bust resting on the table at the bottom of the staircase. Careful not to trip over the carpet she'd cleaned so often it was second nature.

And before she knew it she had reached the front door. Her freedom.

Not letting nerves take her over, Hannah pulled on the door lightly, nearly shrieking in fright when it didn't open. She was trapped. Oh God, what had happened?

'Calm yourself.'

She obeyed the voice in her mind, and realized the door was merely locked at night. Why shouldn't it be? She would have giggled nervously at her own worry but didn't dare. Instead she felt for the lock, and with a firm snap it was undone, and the door was open.

She felt the cool night air on her face and held in a gasp. Not out of surprise, but at the knowledge that she was moments away from freedom. Away from her own personal hell. She didn't dare waste any more time.

When she arrived at the stable, she heard Thomas' whispering voice, instructing her to climb into the carriage. Her Aunt's carriage that she took to high society outings. She would murder Thomas if she ever found out he'd taken in.

She climbed in, feeling the cushion softness of the seating. She heard a sharp sound of a door closing, and sucked in a deep gust of breath as the carriage snapped to a start with Thomas at the reins.

She didn't know how long they would drive, only that Thomas had promised to take her to nearby lodgings of the address she had inquired him to find. He'd asked no questions. He knew of Hannah's past, and what her future was going to hold.

Hannah let her head bob up and down a moment, feigning off sleep as long as she could. She felt incredibly guilty with the knowledge that Thomas was at the reigns in the cold night air, and she was comfortably sitting in the carriage. But sleep soon overtook her, no matter what guilt she must have felt.

Time passed, and she was awakened by a soft pull of her shoulder. She became fully awake and timidly touched the hand that rest on her shoulder.

"We're here?"

"Yes."

Hannah heard the still morning sounds of Paris, and felt her stomach quaking. She was finally free. Her Aunt would never know where to find her. She was finally free, but she was unsure of what to do next. All of a sudden, her plan of tracking down this phantom murderer seemed so out of reach. She has so far to go.

"Do you need help with your luggage?"

"No no," Hannah insisted. "If you could just lead me to the hotel."

Thomas said nothing, but she felt her suitcase being thrust into her free hand that did not hold her cane, and then the gentle touch of his hand on her elbow. She was going to miss him.

"What do you see around us?" She suddenly inquired, needing to know. "What time is it?"

"Fairly deserted, it's early in the morning." His voice was thick with sleep and she immediately wished she could have made the trip without disturbing him. He still had a days worth of work when he returned home.

"Hannah." he said, stopping them both before they reached the doors of the hotel. "If you've changed your mind....if you want to return home, I won't think any less of you. You know that don't you?"

"I know." Hannah answered quickly, fearing she would lose her nerve. "But I've made my decision, Thomas. I must stay. I must, or all of my life after my parent's death has been leading up to nothing. I can't go back there, I never can."

Thomas said nothing, and they continued their duration to the doors. Finally they stepped inside the comfortable feeling foyer and made their way to the front desk where a young man sat looking bored.

"Hello sir." Thomas said, looking to Hannah uncomfortably, unsure of what he should do next. Hannah however seemed completely comfortable, and felt her hands along the edge of the desk.

"Good day, my name is Hannah Collins and I'd like to rent a room." Hannah said lightly, trying to make it seem as if it were normal for a young blind girl of not even twenty, looking as if she were in shambles to be requesting a hotel room. "For at least two weeks."

"It's extra charge for two people." The concierge at the desk said lazily, looking from Thomas to Hannah.

"It's only for me, Monsieur." Hannah said tersely, and reaching into her pockets she produced what she felt had been enough to cover expenses. "I trust this will be enough?"

There was a moment of silence in which the young man counted out Hannah's collective savings and finally with a small tinkle of the bell called in the porter who arrived seemingly out of breath.

"Take Miss Collin's things to room 5." The front man said, his voice authoritative. There was the sound of scuffling, and Hannah's baggage was taken from her roughly, obviously to room five.

The voice of the concierge then turned into syrupy sweetness as he addressed the seemingly well-endowed Hannah. "If there isn't anything else mademoiselle?"

"That will be all, thank you." Hannah said gently, and then turning to Thomas offered a soft, "Would you mind walking me to my room?"

"Of course."

Moments later they were in the room, the porter had left and Hannah had the layout of the hotel room fairly under control. Six steps from the door to the bed. Three steps from the bed to the window and so on. Finally, when there was nothing left to count, she allowed herself to turn to where she knew Thomas stood watching her.

"Thank you Thomas." She said smiling softly, "For everything you've ever done for me. I am eternally grateful."

She waited for his usual humble response, and when she did not hear one she feared that he had already left, without so much as a goodbye.

"I will miss you Hannah." The voice suddenly sounded in front of her, soft and tinged with yearning. ."I wanted you to know that."

There was a silence between them, which neither knew how to fill with words of comfort. They stood there a moment, by the door, the animosity of the situation growing larger by the second. She knew even through all of this, he disapproved.

"I shall miss you as well." She finally replied slowly, not able to turn in his direction. She heard slight rusting, and felt a brush of warmth almost touch her cheek before pulling away quickly.

"Well, goodbye then."

"...Goodbye."

For a moment neither of them moved, and then stealthily Thomas had disappeared out the door of the room, closing it behind him gently. Hannah stood there a moment, her face as impassive as before.

And then, as she realized she had just said goodbye to everything she ever knew, and ever loved, for once in her adult life, Hannah Collins allowed herself to truly cry.