You Belong To Me (Phantom of the Opera fanfic)

Chapter 5

Where had that note come from?

            I got so many looks as I whizzed by, looking behind me every few minutes. I felt trapped, like I was buried alive thirty feet underground. It was like the exit door had been erased, deleted, taken away. There was no escaping him. This was his plan, to frighten me into staying with him. That’d never happen. I was going to get the heck out of there as soon as I could.

            I finally found my destination: Mark St. Pierre’s office. I ripped the door open and peered inside. A mirror right across from me gave me a clear view of my appearance.

            My hair was tussled and knotty, my cheeks were blotchy from tears, my eyes were red, and I had some kind of cut on my lip that had caused my lips to turn a shade of scarlet.

            The room was empty. The black chair sitting behind Mark’s desk was empty except for a coat. It was wrong of me, but I couldn’t help it. I snatched a letter with a red wax stamp, holding it shut, off his desk and tore it open. The handwriting was exactly like the note I had gotten! I dropped it and started shaking in fear.

            Sir St. Pierre,

                        Box Five is to be left empty. I’ve made this very clear but you haven’t followed my requests. Although Miss. Bowman hasn’t appeared in any musicals (Which is a travesty, my kind fellow) I wish to maintain sitting at my spot, which is Box Five. If you continue to simply brush these notes off as a hoax then believe me, horrible, disturbing things will be held in your future. Do not try me, Monsieur.

                                                                                                ~Destler, Erik

            “Miss. Bowman? Do you need something?” John Frank asked, standing behind me, fastening the tie on his neck.

            I gulped.  “I-Is M-Mark here? I need to speak with him…urgently.”

            “Mr. St. Pierre isn’t here right now. May I take a message?”

            My fear was becoming toxic. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears and every slight noise scared the crap out of me. I didn’t even know where I stood in sanity, but no matter what I still felt scared beyond any sense of normality. “I need to leave…now. I need to get far away from this house and never come back.”

            “Miss. Bowman? Are you alright? You look sick…” He put his arm out in front of him to feel my forehead but I backed away. His look of hurt and confusion all pooled together, although I don’t understand why he’d be hurt.  

            “I’m fine, Mr. Frank. I just feel a little under the weather. I really need to speak with Mark and I don’t think I can give you a message. I believe only he would understand. I really don’t mean to be rude in any way but it’s something that would have you believing I was crazy and mental,” I admitted sheepishly. My throat burned with perspiration. I wanted so badly to wrap my arms around Ryan and smell his amazing cologne and feel all safe, but I knew that’d only put me in an even worse state of mind with the Phantom/Angel/Opera Ghost all pissed off at me. He didn’t feel like my teacher. He felt like my worst nightmare.

            “I’m sorry you feel that way, Miss. Bowman. I’m guessing that this is about the Opera Ghost?” John said as though he’d read my mind. He scratched his chin and smiled. “We’ve been getting many reports of him from many angry, frightened visitors. There hasn’t been a sighting for over twenty years! But now that you’ve showed up…”