A Masked Love

"Father?" came the small voice, ringing around the lair. Erik looked up from his work.

"In here Abby," he called out. A little six-year-old girl climbed into Erik's lap, and hugged him. He gently kissed her forehead.

"Father? Is it true what they say? That we're really monsters?" Abby asked, in a hushed, frightened voice.

Erik looked sharply at his daughter, and she squirmed in his lap. "And where did you hear something like that? You didn't go to the surface, like I told you not to, did you?" He rested a hand on her dirty blond head.

"I'm sorry father, I didn't mean to go up to the surface. But I heard voices, when I was playing. So I got curious and I went up to the surface," she admitted looking up at him. "You're not mad at me, are you?" She sure hoped her father wasn't angry. He scared her when he got angry.

Erik shook his head. "No. I'm not angry at you Abby. But please be careful. Your mother went up to the surface once, and that's why she's not here now. Just because we wear masks, does not make us monsters. Am I understood? Any questions?"

Abigail nodded, "I have a question. There was a man up at the surface. And he was with a lady. Like the lady in one of your drawings. And a little boy was with them. The man, he saw me daddy, and he got angry. But I disappeared before he could get me. Did you know him? Who was he? And why was he mad at me?"

A bubble of rage surfaced in Erik's mind. Raoul and Christine. And their son too, I'm assuming. They must be back, now that the Opera House has begun its rebuilding. "I knew that man. He was just angry at you because of the mask, that's all." Erik said lightly.

"But daddy . . . the ballet girls upstairs said you hurt a lot of people. Is it true? Did you really hurt people?" Abigail asked, her brown eyes burning into his gray ones.

"Not without meaning to. Now, are you ready for training?" Erik asked, hoping to get his daughter's mind off of the subject. He looked at his daughter proudly. The only family he had now, that his wife was dead. She was shot in the middle of the street, when she was trying to get some food to steal.

"Training? Now? Really daddy?" she asked him excitedly. Training. Her favorite part of the day. It varied her training, from singing to swordplay. She didn't like wearing the mask, but she had to. She didn't like what lay behind it, and she could only hope, her father wore it for the same reason. But why did he call it training? What was she training for? Her father had always been a little ambiguous. He had never said why they were training, just the fact that they were training. Abby was no doubt grateful for the training. It meant she got to spend more time with her dad. And that was just the best.

Erik smiled softly. She was so much like his beloved Anne. And thoughts of grief when he thought of her, and Christine. Was it really her that Abigail had seen? Or was it someone else? No, Christine was the only girl he ever had drawn, so it wasn't very likely that it was anyone else. Unless of course Christine had a twin, which was, unlikely. He sighed. He resented wearing his mask, and so did his daughter. But what could he do? Who would love the monstrosity behind the mask?