Chapter 7- What Horrors Wait

Chibi Binasu-Chan: I so hear you on the absence of Erik in the last chapter. I don't like writing chappies without him either. That said, he should be in most of the future ones! Yay!

TMOTN: I love that you love this story! And don't worry – you'll find out EXACTLY what happened to poor little Christine –snort-

Hyzenthlay-shine-dew fur- wow, what a name! (lol) yep yep… pissed off Erik is verrrry nice! Thanks for reviewing!

I Love Gerry- hey me too! (love gerry, I mean!) ummm, yeah I was taking artistic license on Christine knowing his name. I don't know about everyone else, but I thought that not giving the phantom a name was a mortal sin of Andrew Lloyd Webber. So in all my stories, Christine knows the name of her angel.

tasha- as always, your comments flatter me and help me to improve! I hope you like it and keep reading!

CloudxinxCrimson- once again, you made me crack up with your review! Keep 'em coming!

To everyone else who I didn't get a chance to name personally, know that I love each and every review that I get (provided that it doesn't say anything to the effect of "your story absolutely sucks and you should be banned from the literary community of the world. AKA a flame). But you get the point!

Anyway, enjoy!

Raoul couldn't see anything.

He had no idea how long he had been walking, trailing a few paces behind the phantom (who had taken the lead once more after they had entered the chamber), but his legs hurt, and each time he took another step, they screamed for rest.

And in addition to these complaints, Raoul had the sinking suspicion that they were lost. Still, the phantom showed no sign of slowing. He had not said anything after they had entered the tomb, and the silence was extremely disconcerting.

The moments continued to pass as they walked on in silence.

Suddenly, a sound from somewhere far away broke the deadened silence.

Erik stopped, standing perfectly still in the passageway. He cocked his head in the direction of the sound, listening with his eyes closed.

"It's her," he said.

"What?" Raoul questioned. "Christine? Where?"

"If I knew, we'd be there by now," Erik said sarcastically. "But we're getting closer," he added, before setting off again.

Raoul let out an exasperated sigh. Never in a million years would he have imagined himself tramping around miles beneath the streets of Paris with a masked madman, searching for his lost fiancé who had mysteriously disappeared.

But after another hour or so of walking, Raoul felt as though it were himself that was the madman. The silence was driving him closer and closer to insanity, and the stagnant air was stifling. Inside, Raoul was screaming.

Erik could sense frustration radiating from the Vicomte, but was too concerned for Christine to care, or to even acknowledge it. He didn't know if Raoul had heard what he had; he doubted it, as the Vicomte's senses weren't as sharp as his own. But Erik knew, beyond doubt, that he had heard Christine.


The memory of her voice, high-pitched and terrified- drove him forward with more determination than ever. He was consumed by the overwhelming need to find her and save her from whatever was the instrument of her terror. He couldn't let his precious angel remain here in the darkness- he wouldn't rest until she was safe.

When Christine opened her eyes, she was overcome by a sudden wave of claustrophobia. Everything around her was dark, and she sensed that the air around her was packed very tightly. She blinked a few times, trying to remember what had happened after she had blacked out, but found that all memories had left her. She felt detached from her living self; she felt alone and dead.


She tried to sit up, but was forced back down as her head came in contact with something hard... something wooden...

She reached up her hands, pressing against whatever it was that contained her. Nothing budged, but she felt that it was indeed something wooden; it felt smooth and polished. Her heart began to thud unpleasantly against her ribcage. She tried to spread her arms out, but felt the same constricting slabs of wood on her left and right as well.

Christine began to panic.

She was trapped in a space so small that she was unable to even lift her head. Frantically, she pounded on the sides as best as she could, though the lack of space impaired her movements. This attempt proved useless.

A cold feeling of realization hit her suddenly, as the tightly compacted air seemed to choke the life out of her. She was lying on her back, in a coffin.

She, Christine Daae, had been buried alive.

A/N: cliffie! I'm soo evil, i know. you like? lemme know!