The Final Overture (A Phantom Of The Opera Story)

Hello, Broken Girl

7 years had passed since the tragic accident of the school house fire. Gustave, now 18, had grown into a man, much like his father.
Gustave took up a new hobby, amongst his passion of playing music and creating art: Gustave roamed the streets of New York, keeping in the shadows, observing people, observing them at a distance which did not make it mandatory he interact. One day, he wondered to a more sinister part of town. It wasn't the place you'd expect though, oh no. He waited in the shadows, behind a cushy bar, where upper class men and women mingled, their haughty laughs filling the air.
"Please, leave me be!" A frail, faint female voice pleaded.
Gustave watched intently.
"Sing, little angel!" A group of men, all older than the girl, seeing as they were all middle aged, surrounded her and held beer bottles in their hands.
"I do not wish to sing." The girl said meekly.
"Well we'll make you sing a different song!" One of the men tugged at her skirt.
"A song written in our beds!" Another one of the men teased, taking a swig of his beer.
"Please don't." The girl hugged herself tightly as one of the men stroked her hair.
Gustave retreated, left before he heard the rest.
Gustave, the next few days, felt horribly guilty. This girl, who was clearly being harassed, needed help. And Gustave could have helped, but instead he ran.
"Gustave!" Erik called, pulling his son out of his thoughts, "Where did you go last night?"
"Town." Gustave answered shortly.
"You're being careful?" Erik inquired.
"Of course." Gustave nodded.
"I just don't want you to be met with the hate that I was met with." Erik said earnestly.
"I know, father. I keep to the shadows. A man in a mask may be a bit curious to some people." Gustave spoke lightly, although, the topic in question wasn't particularly light.
A few weeks later Gustave searched the shadows of the slums.
Behind a bar on the worse side of town, Gustave heard and saw the girl he'd seen before, except now she looked ragged and tired, instead of wealthy and fresh.
"Leave me alone!" She pleaded with a large, grimy looking man.
"How did a pretty little thing like you, daughter of a huge business end up here?" He laughed while pressing her against the alley walls.
"Help me! Please, someone! anyone! save me!" She cried.
The man covered her mouth, as tears streamed down her face.
"Leave her alone!" Gustave stepped out of the shadows. He was rather a frightening sight, black mask, billowing cloak, and not to mention, Gustave was above average in height, and for a musician, shockingly toned.
"Who are you?" The man asked.
"Someone you should listen to." Gustave answered, his voice booming and clear, the result of years of operatic training.
"Eh, take the bitch!" The man shoved the girl forward, and she collapsed to the ground. The man turned around and grumbled as he left.
Quickly, Gustave knelt next to the girl.
"Thank you." She said, her voice coarse and muffled with sobs.
"I'm sorry I didn't intervene sooner." Gustave answered.
"Who...are you?" The girl coughed. "I've never seen a man around here, or around town, that wears a mask."
"Nobody important." Gustave answered.
"Are introductions something you avoid?" The girl asked, still shaking on the ground.
"For the most part." Gustave nodded.
He turned to leave.
"Wait!" The girl tried to stand, but ended up passing out completely. Gustave caught her before her head could hit the brick road.
Gustave did not know what else he could do, so he took the girl back with him, to Coney Island.
"Father!" Gustave called down to his father, "Come here, quickly!"
Erik ran up the stairs. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"I didn't know-" Gustave started.
"What the hell happened?" Erik asked, his voice eerily calm.
"A man attacked her. I helped her, but when she tried to stand she passed out! I couldn't leave her; he would've come back!" Gustave quickly summarized the previous events.
"Let's get a wet cloth on her forehead. Lay her down on your bed." Erik instructed.
Gustave carried her carefully down the stairs, and towards his bedroom. He gently laid her down, and his father came in with a wet towel.
"Poor thing, she looks pretty bad." Erik said to Gustave.
"I saw her a few weeks ago." Gustave said, guilt rushing into him, "Behind a bar, on the nice side of town, and this group of men, drunk men, circled around her and taunted her and I knew what was going to happen but I-"
"You left." Erik sighed.
"I left her there, alone." Gustave clenched his fists.
"Son-" Erik started.
"This" Gustave gestured at the girl, "Is my fault. All my fault."
"It's not your fault, Gustave. She just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time." Erik tried to comfort his son.
"And I was in the right place, at the right time. I could have helped her. Why didn't I help her?" Gustave angrily hit a desk in his room.
"Gustave-" Erik said quietly, "I believe she is coming to. Do not be so angry, you'll frighten her."
Erik knew too well about being too angry, and too frightening.
Slowly the girl's eyes opened. She looked around wide-eyed. Her eyes stopped on Gustave.
"You're the man who helped me." She gulped.
"Yes." Gustave nodded, "How are you feeling? Are you alr-"
"Where am I?" She asked.
"My bedroom." Gustave answered, "you passed out completely on the street, and I couldn't leave you there, because that man would have come back, or someone else would have come along."
"Where is your bedroom?" She continued.
"Coney Island." Gustave answered.
"Coney Island?" She echoed.
"I know it's odd, but-" Gustave wasn't sure what to say.
"Odd is right." Her eyes scanned over the room. Gustave glanced to where his father was, only to find he must have left before the girl even came to.
"Are you feeling alright?" Gustave asked.
"A little achey." The girl reached up and brushed a tear from her eye, "Abandoned, mistreated, humiliated..."
"Broken?" Gustave added lightly.
"Yes." She said simply.
"If you don't mind me asking, who are you?" Gustave inquired,
"You won't tell me who you are." The girl narrowed her eyes, "But I'm Ottily Jennings."
"Ottily?" Gustave nodded.
"People call me Lily, though." Ottily smiled lightly. "And you?"
"Gustave." He answered curtly.
"Thank you." Ottily said sincerely. "I don't know if I'd be alive right now, without you."
"No trouble." Gustave said shortly.
"You know, Gustave," Ottily shook her head, "I swear, I saw you a few weeks ago, too. When I was surrounded by those men. When they-"
"I was there." Gustave didn't look at Ottily, "I ran."
"So you weren't a figment of my imagination." Ottily muttered.
"Afraid not." Gustave wasn't sure what to do next.
Ottily moved to stand, but collapsed almost instantaneously.
Gustave rushed to her side, lifting her back into the bed.
Ottily whimpered, tears going down her face.
Gustave's calm became slightly panicky.
"What is it? What hurts?" He asked frantically.
"My ribs." Ottily murmured.
Gustave was flustered. To look at her ribs he'd have to cut her dress open.
"I need to take you to the doctor." Gustave said.
"No!" Ottily quickly shot down the idea, "No I can't. I-I just can't."
"Why?" Gustave asked.
"I can't, alright!" Ottily said finally.
"Well, I have to cut your dress open to see your wounds." Gustave said, looking away from Ottily's deep green, almost black eyes.
"Fine." Ottily nodded. "I just cannot see the doctor."
Gustave pulled a knife from his bedside drawer, and carefully cut Ottily's dress away from her skin.
The fabric pealed back to reveal dark purple, red, brown, dark bruises on the left side of her stomach.
"Ottily, this is really bad." Gustave said, still unable to look at her face.
"It's just a bruise." She insisted.
"I don't think so. I think your ribs may be cracked." Gustave stopped Ottily from sitting up. "Let me get my father. He knows a lot about a lot of stuff. He can help you."
"Okay." Ottily nodded.