How fucking poetic.

Erik slumped over his organ with a bottle of wine in hand and exhaustion thick in his mind. Soft drunken presses to the keys were all that was keeping him occupied. The low sound of the organ bellowing in the air. The musical genius left dejected and lonely, despite writing peaces about close personal relationships. His eyes were half closed, the mask he always wore tossed half-hazardly to the side and his wig discarded on the corner of the organ. Visions of his mother had been haunting him for some time now, visions of her harsh hands forcing his face in front of mirrors.

He glanced over at the mirror he kept covered in his bedroom, a constant and needless reminder of how hideous he was. How unlovable he was. Even his mother found him disgusting, his whole life had been fighting, pain, and torment. "What a pitiful drama..." he mused out loud, tilting his head and staring at the small part of the mirror that the sheet had uncovered. Why was he so ugly? What god had decided before he was even born that he was worthy of such torment?

Erik often pondered if his face had made him the monster people saw, or if that was pre-determined. Could he ever become decent or would his face be a permanent hindrance? Erik rubbed his face and groaned, slowly rising from his chair and stalking to his bed. He dropped the empty wine bottle and let it roll slowly into the water surrounding his makeshift home.

He'd heard the story of Beauty and The Beast, sweet nothings whispered into small children's ears by mothers who actually cared. Erik knew better than to expect anyone to love him, even you. The person who came to visit him so often, the person who seemed not to look down on him for his reclusive nature. In the end he'd always be... unworthy of care.