Author's Note: Yes, this is a modern fic. I know many people attempt to make modern Phantom stories, so I guess I'll make my attempts as well. I am really trying it because I had an interesting idea occur to me not long ago. With this idea, I realized that this would really only work easiest in a modern-age piece. I always try and stick to Leroux, but there are things that are going to either have to be a bit more original or borrow from other versions. In a way, this Erik is going to be conflicting with a few version of the character… Always a Leroux!Erik base, but there will be hints of ALW!Erik and even Dance!Erik (anybody who hasn't seen this version is missing out :D). Christine, on the other hand, is very different. Very modern, very self-sufficient and has a bit of a different past to her. Yes, this can be argued to be sounding a bit like Leroux, but it's not. Just trust me on this. It will be further detailed as I go.

Anyway, thanks to those who are continuing to read from my previous fic, The Voice! I really appreciate the follow. Otherwise, this is my second piece that is available, but I believe my seventh work overall (all former phics were lost). So without further ado… Obsessions.

It had rained earlier that evening as students were actively leaving the campus to return to their lodgings. Some returned to the dormitories just down the street while others had family just within the reach of the city's commuters. Those like Christine were fortunate enough to have their own dwellings. Though small, she was able to afford enough with her job working at a restaurant to live comfortably, while her parents paid for her schooling.

Christine was just now leaving the school. The skies were beginning to clear and the street was still slick and glossy. Mirrored lights on the pavement shone from below her as she descended down the stairs from the studio, running her hand along the soaked railing. Her glove absorbed all of the dewdrops and dampened her hand, but she simply looked at the moist knitting and smiled. She truly loved the rain. Something about the darkness of the days that came with rain made her calm and relaxed. She was a bit disappointed that she had missed this rain while she was working on her project.

She sighed quietly and beamed as she began down the street, pulling her scarf tightly around her neck and hunching her shoulders to preserve heat. Her backpack was hanging off one of her shoulders, bouncing against her side and she strode through the night, taking her normal route from the University to her apartment. Even with the heavy drape hanging over the city, Christine felt she could feel the weight of the city pressing against her shoulders, forcing her to remain tense as she moved. It was clear, her hours spent working on her project were beginning to take a toll on her. It was as if she could feel the eyes of New York resting upon her, reminding her she had a deadline to meet. She needed to finish everything she had begun, as well as one final masterpiece… whatever that was.

Her mind slipped away from her workload as she came across the final block before her home. The bright lights of construction shone toward her, drawing her to look up and observe the scaffolding. She hated walking past the construction site. It made her feel incredibly uneasy as she would walk through the metal and boarded tunnels, hearing the whistles of the workers calling down to her. Many of the men would hoot and holler for her number, begging to take her out when all she wanted was to pass.

A shudder took hold of her body, giving her chills that ran up her arms. There was nothing she hated more than the attention of men like this. She stopped at the center of the block, looking back and forth, wondering if there was an alternate route she could take until they completed their contract. The option of avoiding them looked bleak until she caught sight of an alley that led through to the parallel street. With thought, she knew that she could go through and run into the back of her apartment building. Only a little extra time out of her walk home.

Christine turned down the alley, trying to push away the thoughts of stress glaring at her like a pair of hard eyes against the back of her head. Her footsteps echoed in the narrow space, announcing her presence to the garbage cans and recyclables piled outside of the locked doors. No lights shone down this alley, yet the street ahead offered a beacon to follow. Suddenly, a silent scuff caught her attention.

She looked up to see a man walking toward her, his hands in his pockets and his hooded form looking downward. Christine took the same posture, keeping her hands in the pockets and her head low, letting her blonde hair fall to try and mask her face. She slightly turned away, avoiding eye contact when he looked up suddenly before passing her, taking a second look just before she was about to pass.

"Hey, Beautiful," he said, his lips puckering as he spoke.

Christine kept walking, turning her head away from him and trying to ignore his remark. She didn't even want to look at him, she was so bothered that her attempt to try and avoid comments like this was ruined.

A sudden pain struck through Christine's arm, whipping her back around in the direction she came from to look directly at the man passing by. His eyes were dark and filled with spite as he pulled her close to his face and tightened his fingers around her.

"I'm talking to you!" the man spat in her face.

Christine struggled against his grip, trying to pull her arm free, but he quickly gained access to her other arm and turned her around again, this time so her back was resting against his chest. A strong arm wrapped around her waist while the other quickly reached into his pocket and flipped a knife out and against Christine's neck.

"No," Christine breathed, struggling against his hold.

"Not so fast, Beautiful," the man said in her ear, pulling her even closer to him.

"Let me go," Christine choked.

The knife was resting against her throat now, threatening to kill her with a slight twist of his wrist. Christine closed her eyes and tried to suppress her breathing. She could feel the blade cutting into her skin and her body quivered against him.

"God, you are a pretty little thing, aren't you?" she said while looking over her, running his hand across her waist.

His lips were resting against her neck, unafraid to graze over her as he looked up and down, continuing to feel down her leg and back up again. Christine couldn't control her fear, her shaking was now the source of her only pain as the knife continued to glide over her flesh. The man looked down to the trail of blood running down her neck. He grabbed her arms and spun her around in his grip, pressing himself up against her and the wall of the alley. One hand held her arms tightly behind her back with the assistance of the wall, while the other cupped her breast and squeezed tightly.

Christine squirmed in his embrace, hardly taking away from his control as he ducked his head, just below the opening of her jacket, and ran his tongue up her chest, taking care to lap all of the blood running down. Christine whimpered, trying to ward him off by movement, but he tightened his grip more and pressed himself closer against her.

His lips were covered with her blood as he came back up to look her in the eyes. His features were covered by the shadows formed over his face, distracting from being able to identify her capture.

"Never had one as good looking as you," he said to her, his smile turning wickedly into a snarl.

"Stop, no," Christine cried.

His sharp shoulder stuck into hers, pinning her against the wall and his hands feverishly began to unbutton the jacket and make their way toward her pants. Just as she struggled to try and kick at the man, she could feel his hands wrap around the jacket that was opened but still hanging on her arms. She was forced to spin around from the wall she was pressed against and was stumbling across the alley, catching the hint of another black figure taking hold of the man in the hoodie.

With a trip and stumble, Christine's head hit against the opposing wall and she went cold on the damp cement surface.