Til I Hear You Sing |The Phantom of the Opera|

Chapter One~ Til I Hear You Sing

I am supposed to be dead.

All common sense would say that I should be dead. I should be buried in the cemetery with my father and my mother. I was shot in the gut, and I felt my heart stop. I slowly felt my blood turn cold and I heard my father's voice greeting me as a bright white light pulled me away from my husband.

But then the warm light turned cold and I woke up in the lair under the Opera House. My wound was healed and I could felt my heart beat. I remember stabbing myself with a pen to see if I would bleed, just to make sure I wasn't a ghost.

But then I remember looking around the lair for my husband, and all I was greeted by was the cold silence that surrounded me. And that seemed to hurt worse than being shot.

I instantly ran up to the Opera House, but as I ran to my mirror, I found myself stopping and looking into my dressing room, and suddenly the urge to run out into the light scared me. I had already died once, and I didn't feel like wanting to live again.

Surely I would cause more hurt to my loved ones if I came back. At least remaining in the shadows would give them peace. At least that is what I told myself at first, trying to block out what I was truly feeling.

Which was that I didn't want to go back to my family.

I had no yearning to see my children again nor did I feel any desire to see Erik again. It was as if when I was shot, my soul died. All I wanted to do was hide in the cellar ways, and walk in the shadows that I once feared.

After all what did the world have to offer me?

Was I to be tracked down again and shot by a man I once loved?

I did not want to go back and live as I once lusted to do. The shadows did not hurt me half as much a the light did. I built myself a home in the shadows, and I sang in the silence, singing songs I once sang in a cheery tone, now in a heart wrenching way.

Someone heard me once, and I froze, not wanting to make a sudden movements. It was a young ballerina who was crying in one of the hallways. She looked straight at me, but the darkness concealed me, and she saw nothing.

"Are you the Angel that everyone has been speaking about, Miss," she said in a confident voice, not scared like I had imagined that she was. There was something about the way that she spoke which made me yearn for my family deep down inside, but I shoved it away and locked it where it should never return.

"Yes child," I spoke softly, and I flinched when I heard my own voice for the first time in what had felt like months. The young girl's eyes widen as a small smile appears on her face.

"I am the Angel of the Opera."

Erik

Five Years Later

I flinched when I heard the sound of the boat's horn, and I saw Gustave cover his ears with his hands. Belle pouted as she clutched onto my hand, and I softly smiled as I looked at my sweet daughter who had her stuffed bear in her other hand.

"Father," Gustave says as we walk into our room for the night and I turn to look at my son. I nod, motioning for him to continue with what he was going to say. "Why must we leave for Paris tonight? Miss Smith said that you are going to miss a very important meeting with investors tomorrow. Surely this trip to Paris could have waited?"

I shut the door to the room rather loudly, and I could imagine that people were staring at our door. A sharp pain seemed to pierce through my heart, and I sharply inhaled as a picture of her face flashed in my mind.