Tatiana's Narrative Begins:

 Hello, there. I'm so glad you could make it. Don't be afraid. I am real and so is all of this. Oh, you have no idea how happy I am that you came. This is really an exciting time, you know. Paris is buzzing with the news: Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera is opening at the Paris Opera House in one day. The original London cast has been reunited for this historic event, and tickets for it were sold out the day it was announced. And I'm one of the lucky few to get a seat; a good one, too.
 Needless to say, the Opera manager's are highly excited about all the money they are about to bring in, as well as all the publicity, as business has been rather slow lately.
 M. Duvall and M. Stratherin at this moment are chattering on to the Phantom, or rather Michael Crawford, about everything and nothing. As boring as it is, he politely listens to their prattle, however the production director, Hal Prince, will never know how grateful Michael is when he interrupts with, "There's a problem with the dressing room arrangements."
 As trivial as this is when you looked at all the major problems they could be having, the mangers treat it as though it's the worst thing imaginable, and their facial expressions are so theatrical, that Michael can barely prevent himself from laughing. His effort to control his laughter, turns into a coughing fit.
 Prince stares at him in concerntation. "Don't you dare get sick on me!" his voice is harsh, but he adds in teasing tones, "I'll personally hang you with the Punjab lasso if you do!"
 Michael waves them on saying he will be fine. And Hal leaves, with M. Duvall and M. Stratherin apparently attempting to talk him to death.
You see, my friend, it's been like this since Michael and I arrived. The cast and crew have been constantly busy, but nothing really interesting has happened. I'm suppose to keep a watch over this Production, but the job is rather boring. That's how I came to decide that having a friend would be so much fun and here you are!
 Come, I'll take you to your room. Yes, your room. Hurry, follow me. Quickly this way.
 Look! We're here. Well, go on. Open the door.
  Do you like? Good. I thought you would like having your very own dressing room. Never mind how I got it. I promise you won't get in trouble for being here. Now, sit down I have a something to tell you.
  First of all, give me your word that you won't go ballistic when I tell this. Promise? Okay, then I'll tell you. This dressing room is right next to Michael Crawford's. You promised not to go ballistic on me! SIT DOWN!
 Now it's next to his because that way I can watch out for you both. What does that mean? Never mind. You ask too many questions; you're giving me a headache. Anyway, check out your room and wake me when you're done.
 Huh? What? Calm down and speak slowly. Yes, yes, you're very right. This room does look like Christine's might have looked like in 1881. No, I'm afraid it's not though. Michael has that room, unfortunately. But I can tell you it looks nothing like this room. Yes, the mirror really does exist, they just don't know. What? NO!
We're the only ones who know that it's really a trap door. Be smart and keep your mouth shut about it. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so harsh, but it's very important that no one finds about it. Oh, I see that look in your eyes. Get that thought out of your head this instant. I'll hear nothing of the sort. If you're wise, you'll leave that mirror alone. Curiosity killed the cat and it'll get you, too if you go snooping around. Besides, security wouldn't leave you alone in his dressing room to try to find the spring to open the mirror, anyway.
 Come on, enough of this nonsense talk. I'll give you the grand tour of Place de l'Opera. And if you're good, I'll take you to meet Michael after tomorrow night's show. I hope.
 The Paris Opera House is so beautiful and full history that I could almost live here. Almost. Poor dear. Tired aren't you? I can tell by the way you just collapsed on your bed. Good night see you in the morning.
      
 Time really does fly when you're having fun. Come. Can you believe that it's almost three. Almost three? Go to dressing room and take a nap, friend, so you'll be awake for tonight.
 I managed to reach the side door of the Opera that Michael was to come through. I was afraid I might have missed him and he would be in his dressing room. Alone. Of course, my small mind, which barely has room for more than one thought at a time, did not think about checking Christin- I mean, Michael's room before dashing down to the door. Thankfully, though, Mr. Crawford is punctual, and came through that door at precisely three. I was very worried about him not showing up and thought that I would not be so stressed out once he arrived safely. However, I'm much more stressed now. I don't like not knowing what awaits.
 Things were went well and as soon as I had the chance I came to get you up. Pardon? Silly girl, do you think I would have brought you here tonight without something decent to wear to such a gala event. Now, tell me what you wish to wear tonight. No, no. I mean something fancy. Money's no option, I never need it. That's a much better choice. Your gown awaits you in the closet, mademoiselle. And I must go.
 At seven thirty the stage manager announced the half hour call. While I was anxiously awaiting the start of the show, I couldn't shake the eerie feeling that we, or specifically, Michael was being watched. Many times I whirled around to face that terrible mirror, never seeing anything, of course. Then felt foolish at my paranoia. That is until, for no reason, Michael suddenly turned face the mirror, with wide, panicked filled eyes. When he realized that the person standing on the other side of the mirror was himself in Phantom make-up, he laughed. But his reaction and the fact that it was caused by the mirror only confirmed to me that I was NOT paranoid. Then I began get very nervous, so nervous I could barely contain myself. I was shaking with nerves. I hadn't been so high-strung since all the dangerous stunts of Barnum and EFX. Oh, I really wished I hadn't thought of EFX! The night Michael hurt his hip so bad, I had had that nervous, giddy feeling- the one I have right now- and a feeling that something was very wrong. It stuck with all me night, too. Ugh, I can't think of that right now. I'll tell you one thing, watching out for Michael is not an easy job. I expect to have a nervous break down any day now.
 Suddenly, the Overture began, startling me brutally back to my reality, doing nothing to help my poor nerves. I'm happy to have people in the room with him; he's relatively safe with others. It's 8:00, you should be in your seat, ready to enjoy the show. Michael is getting into character now. He's very quite now, standing in the erect, foreboding posture of the Phantom, working his hands like the Phantom. The Phantom... Oh, I wish he were portraying anyone but the Phantom! Nothing good can come of this!
 I worry about you too. Perhaps, watching over you myself was a bad idea. If something does happens to Michael tonight, I don't think my frazzled nerves could handle something happening to you as well.
       
The show begins and things go smoothly. Soon Michael's hiding above the front of the stage, ready to suddenly appear to in light to scold the managers. Then he's hiding in the gilded angel to lie for a cramped 12 minutes in a fetal position. I'm feeling queasy. Why did I have to be put in charge of someone who liked to do their own dangerous stunts? That same feeling I had in the dressing room and backstage was still on me. Yes, I know that over a thousand people were watching him, but this was different. Someone was watching for a dark reason. But why would that feeling bother me up here? Then suddenly it came to me as the angel began to move. I began to sweat in fear. If I was wrong, Box 5 would be empty because in honor of Phantom Hal Prince asked that it not be used. I jerked my head toward Box 5. I was right. My worst fear was confirmed. Michael is in the most danger he's ever been in!
Something will happen before the night is over, and I don't know if I can stop it. That is why you must go right after the show is over. Don't linger, don't dawdle, don't wait for me. Heed my warning and leave!
 Everything happened as it always did before. The make-up removal, and the people coming through. The people always made me giddy, as though they had some hidden agenda. No one in the crowd tonight was unusual. Just your average Phantom fans and fanatics. I must tell you though you already know, that tonight was a huge success. If I sound proud, it's because I am. My Michael was superb, as always. Anyway, it seemed to take longer than usual for the people clear out. I should have felt better once they left, but I didn't. In fact, I felt worse. That feeling had intensified a hundred times over since returning to this cursed dressing room.
 While Michael gets ready to leave, I need tell you tell a few things, since you SHOULD be reading this after this night is long over! As I have said before this dressing room did at one time belong to Christine Daae, and you know that I am not happy that Michael has it now. Do remember when you first came yesterday? When Hal Prince came to tell the managers that there was a problem with the dressing room arrangements? You see, Christine's dressing room originally was given to Sarah Brightman, but Sarah when she found out it was Christine's,  absolutely refused to set foot inside it. The reason? Every time Christine's room is given to the diva of a particular show (and it always is; management thinks it's cute to do so. I think they're idiots), something happens to them. So far no one has been killed. But strange things happen to them. Things my wee brain can't comprehend. And I know that if Sarah had stayed in the room we'd all be attending her funeral tomorrow. But, she didn't, because she was so adamant about getting a different room that Michael volunteered to switch with her. Bravery? No, not really. It's just that no one believes in those occurrences. Except the divas who have to stay in that room; they aren't taking the risk!
      
 Finally, we get leave. No is here except for the security officer and the doorman. It's making me extremely uneasy, but we'll be out of here soon enough. I'll feel so much better once he's safe and sound in his hotel room with the door locked and bolted!
 Come on, Michael! Stop taking forever. We have to leave. I'm getting impatient, I know, but put yourself in my position. We're out the door now. Michael was walking down the hall when I heard a voice call my name. Immediately, I looked at Michael but naturally he was still walking down the hall, because he hadn't said anything. The voice called, closer. Walk faster, Michael. Get out. Danger. It called again so close and powerful. I felt as though it had swallowed me. It no longer call my name, but moaned and howled in the most pitiful and distressing manner, then began chuckle. The chuckle turned into mocking laughter, the mocking laugh into a triumphant burst of maniacal laughter. It was so loud that I had to clap my hands over my ears to try to block it out. Then it ceased. Just like that it stopped.
     
 Oh, my head. It's throbbing so bad. My vision is blurring on me. What just happened? Oh, maybe if I just lie down for a moment. Oo, that's better. You know, I can't remember what happened just before this strange occurrence. Maybe if I close my eyes... It's all a blur. It's clearing a little... Michael! Oh, my gosh! WHERE'S MICHAEL?
      
I am in a state of so much distress I don't know where to begin. Don't laugh. I told you I don't have much room in my head for more than one thought at a time. Christine's room catches my eye. It's open. I race in as fast as I can. I'm standing in her room. I feel like throwing up. The mirror's open!
      
This is not good! I knew this was going to happen! I know you want to know what, but at this moment you won't believe me. The most important thing is to get to Michael as soon as I can. To do that I have to go through the mirror. *gulp* Down There!
 Before I left though, I could have sworn I heard sounds coming from your dressing room. But that's impossible, isn't it? Because you're at home. Asleep. In bed. I don't have time to worry about you. If you're foolish enough to still be here, then I'll give you one final warning: Go. Home. Now. Or and I quote, "a disaster beyond your imagination will occur"! Leave. NOW.
      
 Friend, you have no idea how black darkness can really be. This maze of corridors that leads down into the labrinyth, is so frightening, even to me. One wrong turn and you will never be seen alive again. I hope I am frightening you. Please don't take that the wrong way. What I mean to say is, I hope I am scaring you enough to discourage you from a stupid attempt to follow me. Don't worry about me getting lost; I know my way around this dungeon all too well. Still it doesn't prevent me from shivering in fear.
       
 I'm here. At the lake. I can only hope I'm not too late. I'm afraid  I can't keep you shadow in any longer and continue to tell you in detail of this night. Across the lake is a house. I give you three guesses as to the rest. If you say the Phantom of the Opera, you're half right. Erik lives across there. The real one, though real isn't quite the word. I'll wait until you're finished laughing to tell you the rest. Done? Thank you. The Erik that haunts this Opera basement is the one that Gaston Leroux wrote about. I know you don't believe me. But it's true. Yes, you're very right. If that is the real Erik, he would have been dead for over a hundred years. That's the confusing part in all this; be patient and you will learn how and why he's here.
       
  I didn't cross the lake by the boat. That would have needlessly set off the siren; Erik already knew I was on my way. How I got into his house I will not tell you, because I don't want you to EVER try to reach it. I was inside and terrified at what I might find. Or not find.
       
 There are voices coming Erik's room. I hide behind a door that's slightly ajar, watching and listening.
 At first all I see is Erik, gesturing wildly, but briefly he moves aside to allow me view of Michael, pale and confused but otherwise fine. Then he blocks my sight again. Here's what I heard and saw:
  (Understand that I don't know what he had been ranting about prior this.)
 There's a moments silence. Then Michael ventures timidly, trying to make a joke, "How'd you like the show?"
 Bad mistake.
 "You mean that miserable retelling of my life?" Erik scoffed. His mood becomes angry. "I hated it. Those songs. An insult to music. "He takes a seat on his couch, assuming a casual position. "How you pretend you know what being me is like."
He leans forward towards Michael. "What was that one song?" He pretends to be deep in thought. "Oh, yes. I believe the title was... 'Stranger Than You Dreamt it?' '... this loathsome gargoyle, who burns in hell yet secretly yearns for heaven?' You don't know what I yearn for. You have no idea." He is very quite as he speaks, which is frightening. Because it usually means he's about to explode.
"' ... Fear can turn to love," His voice drips with sarcasm. "-you'll learn to see the man behind the monster: this... repulsive carcass, who seems a beast, but secretly dreams of beauty...' What kind of gibberish is this? You have no idea what I dream of. For all you know I may be dreaming of my next victim."
 He gives Michael a sly sideways look. His eyes gleam in the dark. I suck in my breath trying hard not to think about what is going through his head right now. Bad move. Erik jerks his head up and towards the door I'm behind. He smiles slyly and moves toward the door. I duck away from the opening of the door, but it's too late. Erik flings open the door and I fall into his room.
      
 "A visitor. How nice," Erik plasters a grin on his face. "I get so few these days. Usually I have to drag them down. And it's been so long since I've seen you, my dear. How long has it been?"
  I don't answer. I don't like the tone of his voice. It has been a long time since I last saw him and I feel guilty about it. You see, I used to see Erik and keep him company whenever I had the chance. I did get to know the "man behind the monster". He's not such a beast. Not really. And despite all his shortcomings I really like him. The world really has been cruel to him. Therefore he doesn't believe the things he does are wrong. That's the  monster part. As much as I like Erik, if he tries to do anything to Michael, I have a duty to protect Michael at all costs. I hope Erik doesn't force me to choose between them. Though I'm sure he will.
 "Not talking today, my dear?" Erik cocks his head one side and waits.
 "Why are you doing this, Erik?"
 "Why not?" he answers coolly. "They rewrote me in a most unbecoming manner, insulted my musical gifting, and destroyed my life's work, making a mockery of it."
"They did not." I'm at a lose for words here. But maybe I can draw his attention away from Michael. Really though, you should see Michael's face. He thought Erik insane before, now he considers him absolutely mad, talking to the air.
 "I liked the play. I think they a wonderful job." I'm moving towards Christine's former room, hoping to make him turn his back on Michael. "I think Michael did a magnificent portrayal of you."
 "You would," Erik snorted, advancing on me. I continue moving to Christine's room. "Dear Michael can do no wrong in your eyes."
 At this Michael saw his chance to escape, as Erik's back was completely to him. Go, go. I'll find you and lead you out of this place as soon as I can.
 I continued to babble on, but I don't remember what I said. I'm at the door to her room now. I put my hand on the knob. But Erik realizes what I'm doing.
 "Get away from that room!" he screams. "You deceitful little bug! Get away."
 Suddenly he whirls around. "You!" he bellows at Michael." Get back here."
 Michael stops dead in his tracks. He has no idea what to do. It's death if he doesn't comply and most likely death if he does.
 Erik is breathing hard, shaking with rage. He glares hatefully at me, then glares murderously at Michael. Things happen in a blur. Erik has Michael pinned against a wall so quick that neither of us can react. I don't know what to do! I'm afraid. Oh...
 Erik's yelling again. He's terrifying when he yells. This is no ordinary tantrum; I may have pushed him over the edge.
 "You think you're as good as they say you are?" he hisses at Michael. "How would like to really be good at portraying me? How would you like to live like me? To have a truly disfigured face, not some make-up job that will come off whenever you want.? Then maybe you'd have compassion for me!"
 "I do have compassion for Erik, but not for you. You're just a psychotic madman!" Michael grounds angrily out. Then he winces in pain.
 That was not the smartest thing to have said. We're in so much trouble!
 Erik can't believe what he just heard. He throws Michael down on to the couch.
 He backs off and stares at Michael. "Just a psychotic madman?" he wheezes in a high pitched voice. Then in a hardly audible voice says, "I'll show you a psychotic madman."
 I don't know what Erik is planning on. I have to do something right away. I'm no match for Erik as I am now. So... I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and... wish.
      
There's a flash of light. And my head begins to spin. Then my feet hit something hard and solid. I open my eyes and look down. I'm standing on the organ. I look up at Erik, who is standing looking at me curiously. "What a fool you are," he breathes.
 I take a peak at Michael wondering how he will react to this. He's staring wide-eyed at me, his mouth slightly open. He's very pale. It's very natural what happens next under the circumstances, what with Erik and my sudden appearance on the organ. He drops unconscious to the couch. Erik gives a snort of laughter.
 I get off the organ and stand in front of him. I look up at him, he's staring down at me in amusement. Maybe I would have been better off on the organ. My neck hurts like this, as I'd guess I under five feet. I feel as small as always next to Erik's six-foot-two frame.
 "Erik, what are you doing?"
 "Nothing that concerns you, my dear."
 "But it does concern me. In every way. What are you planning."
 "Revenge, my dear," he kneels down to my height. "Sweet revenge."
 "But why Michael? What's he to do with anything. He's only an actor."
 "He shouldn't have taken the role."
 "How was he to know that you existed beyond paper? "
 He doesn't answer. He looks down at the floor.
 "You were my only ray of sunshine in my dismal life. My only connection to the outside world." His words became bitter. "Then because of him you became too busy to see me. You can't talk to him. He doesn't know about you. But I do and you still don't come."
 I knew he meant what he said about my not coming and I do feel guilty about it, however I wasn't about to fall for it.
 "You know why I can't come. But that's not the reason you're doing this."
 "Someone has to be punished for mankind's' sins against me."
 "Oh, brother, you're just full it, you know. This has nothing to with mankind. It has to with Christin-"
 He doesn't let me finish. He glares at me furiously and jumps up.
"Don't ever say that name in this place EVER! You know not to!"
 I do and I feel horrible. That wasn't fair to him. He's standing at the organ now, his back to me, leaning on it, his head down .
 "It's not fair," He says quietly. "That they brought that cursed play in here. Forced me to watch it over again. It's bad enough that I had to live through it over and over every time someone reads the book. But..."
 His words trail off. When he speaks again his voice is filled with mischievousness. "You want to know what I'm going to do?" He turns to look at me. I don't like the look in his eyes. "What I'm going to do is get rid of you."
       
  "Erik, what are you talking about?"
 He turns completely around to face me and leans casually against the organ.
 "Well, now I realize that it's useless for me to make you chose between the two of us, since you obviously have no free will, or," His smile slowly fades and his expression becomes grim. "you've been playing me for a fool with your little visits."
 I must say that I'm very hurt by his words. However, when he's in state like he is now the truth hardly matters.
 "You can't get rid of me very easily, Erik. Won't it be more trouble than it's worth?"
 "Hardly, my dear," his grin returns, bigger this time. "I can't play my games with you here; you'll get in the way."
 "What games?" I really don't like the sound of this.
 "Just a few harmless games." I am completely convinced that his games are far from harmless.
 "And, my dear," he continues, inspecting his fingernails, "I won't really be the one to... do away with you."
 He glances over at Michael, who beginning to come to, then back me.
"Erik.."
 He walks over to me and leans over until we're nose to nose. In a quite whisper he says, "Three little words from him is all it takes to send you into non- existence."
 I stare at him horror stricken at what he's suggesting. I can't answer. He puts his mouth against my ear and conspiratorially whispers: "All he has to say is: 'I don't believe'."
 "You wouldn't. Erik, you can't do that to me." I try not to cry but I can't help it.
 "Oh, yes I would," he says, getting up and going over to the couch where Michael is. "And you will have wasted you're one and only wish. For what? To save the person who will be the death of you?" He laughs gleefully. "I must says this is one of my better tricks!"
 Michael sits up groggily, holding his head. He looks up Erik who is sitting on the arm of the couch and closes his eyes again. He reopens them looking at me.
 "Who are you?" he asks.
 "Go on, my dear, tell him who you are." Erik gives me a Cheshire cat grin.
 I draw myself up to my full height, ball my fists, and put on a determined face.
 "That's not important."
 "Oh, but it is." Erik jumps up to stand in front of Michael. "Ask her how she suddenly appeared. Ask her. Go on."
  Michael looks me over carefully. "How did you get here?"
  I contemplate lying and I can't. "I wished to be here."
 He raises his eyebrows. "Y-you wished, huh?" he flops against the back of the couch. "That makes sense."
 Erik frowns. "Ask her what she is."
 Michael gives him a funny look. "What she is?"
 Erik nods. Michael leans forward. He's clearly trembling. "What are you?" he asks going along with Erik, though he doesn't sound too eager to know.
 I take a deep breath. Instead of telling him right out, which would most certainly warrant an "I don't believe", I tell him in a form of a riddle. Hopefully, he'll be too out of it even attempt to answer it.
 " ' When a baby laughs for the first time, the laugh breaks into a thousand pieces and they all go flitting about and that is the beginning of' us."
 He just stares at me. After a while he throws up hands in disgust. "I'm surround by lunatics."
 Erik smiles triumphantly. "He doesn't believe in you!" He dances around me. Then he sits back on the couch's arm again and cocks his head to one side expectantly. There's a moment of silence, then he pushes his bottom lip out in pout. "Why are you still here?" he asks sounding as if he might have a tantrum.
 "He didn't say it out loud. It doesn't count."
 Erik folds his arms across his chest. If circumstances were different, this would be amusing; he's looks like a little kid who didn't get his way.
 He gets up suddenly, startling Michael and me both.
 "Tell her you don't believe," he says firmly to Michael.
 "Don't believe what?"
 Between you and me, I don't think he believes any of this is happening. Extremely irritated Erik stamps his foot hard on the floor. He says about to say something when his siren goes off.
 A mischievous grin spreads over his face. "Another visitor. My, this is my lucky day. I wish I had known; I would have put out the good towels."
      
 As soon as I hear the siren go off, I feel sick. I break out in cold sweat. My knees wobble beneath me. Erik has left to check the lake. My legs give out and I fall to the floor. In despair I curl into a ball and sob. I forget about Michael being in the room until I feel a hand on my shoulder and gentle British voice asking if I'm all right. Slowly I sit up and nod. I wipe my eyes, embarrassed. He takes his hand away and looks quizzically at the glitter-like residue on his palm. He tries to get rid of it, but only succeeds in transferring it to his pants.
 "What's going on?" he asks.
 The events of the night leading to this moment come spilling out. When I finish he sits back and thinks.
 "You don't believe me, do you?" I cry, allowing a self-centered second to worry about my own fate.
 Slowly, he let's out a breath. "I don't know what to believe," he admits. "But I can't deny that something strange is definitely going on. But, I most certainly don't believe that that he's the real Erik."
 I decline from telling him that the opposite is true. Later maybe.
 He looks at me, concern evident on his face. "Do you really think your friend is the one who set off the siren?"
 I nod miserably. "I told her to go home. Bringing her was bad idea. I told her about the mirror against my better judgment." I get up and pace the floor wringing my hands in worry and fear. "Rehearsals were getting dull and I wanted some company. I knew she loved 'Phantom' and adored you. So I brought her with me and gave her the dressing room next to yours. It was made to look identical to Christine's."
  "Do you mean Christine Daae's?" he asked skeptically.
 "Yes. But it wasn't her room. You had her room. And just look at what happened!" I moan.
 "I'm sure things will get better. This is probably some sort of joke," Michael says, hesitantly, and I know he doesn't believe it.
 "You gravely under estimate Erik then," I say shaking my head.
        
  We heard Erik approach the room. I guess we both expecting to hear someone struggling against but we hear nothing. Then a terrible thought crosses my mind. What if Erik is returning alone? What if he's ki- No! He promised me he would stop the killings! But will he keep his word? With Erik, though, it was  a pie crust promise- easily made, very easily broken.
 The suspense is almost stifling. My back is beginning to hurt and I realize that I have been standing very rigidly all this time. There's absolute silence, as Erik is probably preparing some theatrical entrance.
 The door suddenly bursts open and in spite of my self I jump, my heart pounding in my chest. Erik waltzes in a ways, but stops not far from the open door.
 "Look what the ghost dragged in," he booms cheerfully, giving a hard tug on something just outside of the room.
 The something tumbles in and falls to the floor. When it stands back up we see that it's you. Rage floods through me. How dare you disobey me! You have no idea how you've jeopardized us, and you! Erik will never let out you of here alive! Not that he'd let us out alive either, but we'd at least have a chance. I start to tremble with anger and Michael puts a restraining hand on my arm. What is even more infuriating is that you some to have no concept of the danger you've put us all in, including Erik. You are absolutely... star struck! Good grief! Erik will have fun with you!
 Your eyes grow wide as you gaze about your sight finally landing on Michael.
 "Michael Crawford?" you breath. I can't surpress a groan. The look on your face is sickening. I look at him to see how he will react. He gives you a half smile.
"Hello. what's your name?"
 Suddenly, it seems as though you've lost the power of speech. You try to talk and nothing comes out.
Michael turns to me. "Well?" he asks.
 "Well what?" I answer, playing dumb.
 "Her name?"
I shrug and turn my back to him, but not before seeing the strange look he gives me.
  "Stupid girl," I mutter under my breath.
 During this whole exchange Erik has been oddly quite, observing the whole scene. Eventually though he gets fed up with your dopiness and says to me, "My dear, I've decided to allow you to join the festivities. I have a feeling that you two ladies will be quite entertaining."
 Addressing everyone he announces, "Let the Games Begin!"
Only Erik knows for sure what happened next. What I do know is that one minute the three of us were standing in Erik's house and the next we were sitting on the roof of the Opera. Michael got up right away and made his way to the nearest exit. You, of course, followed him like a well-trained dog. I didn't follow because I knew we wouldn't be able to escape that easily. No, Erik had something up his sleeve. We just have to wait until he tells us what it is.
 You two came rushing back exclaiming about the exits all being locked.
 "I knew that," I say sullenly.
 Michael got an indignant look on his face. "Why didn't you say something?"
 "No on asked me," I reply poutily. I'm very tempted to leave you to fend for yourself, but since Michael's here, I can't. Lucky you. That's not fair, I know. But something's changed and I don't know why I feel so... antisocial toward you.
 "Listen," Michael says to me., "Listen- what's your name?"
 "Tatiana," you say matter a factly.
 Michael gives you a strange look. "You're name's Tatiana?"
You shake your head no. Now he looks confused. "Then what's your name?"
You shrug. He raises his eyebrows and mutters under his breath, "I am surrounded by lunatics."
 I would have laughed but that comment included Erik and me, so it wasn't funny.
 "My name is Tatiana," I say.
 Michael turns back to me. "Okay, Tatiana. You seem to know Erik so well. Would you mind clueing us in on his plan?"
 "I'd love to if I knew what that plan was."
 Erik's booming voice prevents Michael from saying anything further.
 "Contestants, are you ready? Good. Willokmen to Erik's Opera House Nightmare! A game of skill, wit, strength, and life or death. The object of the game is to escape the Opera House alive. It is every man for himself or as a team. Whatever. There are four levels which you must complete in this order: Apollo's Lyre, the Opera, the Labrinyth, and the Lair. In every level there is only one real exit into the next level. Each level will become increasingly difficult. In the last level you will face me. The rules of the game are simple: there are no rules. Good luck."
 With that Erik's voice disappears and the real trouble begins.