change - phantom of the opera

CHAPTER 9

 My dress was green and made of a light silky material. I looked around my room. I was in a small room, yet it was filled with decor I would put in. I laid my eyes on a mirror, I stood up and stood in front of it. I looked just like I did in 2020. Same hip dips, same belly. Same everything. Gramps insisted on me eating full three meals a day, that is, until he passed when I was twenty.

I had known the man for 7 years, and he really felt like a real grandpa. He was appreciative of my gift for music, so he left me all his riches and all the rights to his compositions. With that money, I could start my theater.

I pulled up my dress slightly and there was mangled and destroyed skin across my whole lower half. It was a burn scar.

The scar on my leg went all the way to my hip. I took off the dress and I stood in front of the mirror. 4 long scars littered my torso. I assumed from the whip. The scars were deep and very different in color. I didn't realize it, but I was tearing up. I was a monster now. I shouldn't have survived that fire. I am going to and have been plagued by this for my life.

I heard a voice yell, "Anya! I'm coming in!" She yelled, and before I could put my dress back on the woman was already in my room. She looked at me in shock. I assumed it was because of my scarred and mangled skin, but it turned out to be different.

"You," She paused and pointed at me. "Can walk." She stated. She walked towards me and examined me. I felt incredibly self-conscious while she was doing this. I didn't quite understand why she was so shocked I could walk, then I realized. My spine. It had broken. I most likely spent days in bed, causing my muscles to forget what it was like to walk. I had been training to walk for years. But my spine was never the same, but I guess it was now.

She pulled me into a big hug and I hugged her back. I didn't know who she was, but I did need a hug. I just went through possibly the most traumatic moment of my life, though it seems to have happened years ago now. I looked around my room and laid my eyes on a framed piece of paper. On the papers front page was me,

A 25 year old young woman who starts a Music Performance Center for New and Modern Music, in which she allows everyone, and when we say everyone, we mean everyone. A well known harlot was seen having a conversation with the woman after the concert. This no judgment zone goes too far, this woman shouldn't be allowed to make these people think that this, is okay.

A woman of her status shouldn't be able to own a theater anyway. Especially those of her beliefs.

I grinned at what I had done. I quite literally framed my hater's comment up on the wall. It is honestly really hilarious. Even haters existed in the 1800s. It appeared the newspaper didn't know about my scars, otherwise, I would most likely be shut down by society.

I wondered how the writers knew about the harlot. How did they recognize her? To know about Annie Westernson, you must've gone there yourself. Men. Making fun of a woman for hanging out with a harlot when they did much more then hang out with that very woman.

Annie was a harlot who visited my theater months ago. She was in need of help, so I let her in.

The woman who noticed I could walk earlier adjusted my dress. I looked in the mirror and I was in a very beautiful lavender dress. During the 17 years of living in this century, I had actually gotten used to going places in big dresses. This dress was very big. The skirt was very puffed out like a princess. My dress looked a lot like Belle's, from Beauty and the Beast, but in lavender.

The woman rushed me down these small steps. My large dress dragged along the ground.

"You're on right now!" She yelled.