🌹This is what Adelaide looks like! I do not own any of these pictures or Phantom Of The Opera(unfortunately)🌹
Adelaide's POV:
Hello, I'm Adelaide, but you can call me Addie. My mother used to call me her Fleur Èscarlate before she died.
How did she die, you may ask?
Well, ever since I was a child, My family had a tradition of seeing the opera once a year. And the Opera Populaire being so close to where we live, we got to go there more often every year. Also the best part was, my mother's childhood best friend works there! I remember her telling me she is the dance instructor there. Giry? I think.
Anyways on with the story.It was about 6 years ago. For my twelfth birthday, my parents saw that a new opera was to be performed at the Opera Populaire. It was called "Don Juan Triumphant." And I think assuming that as I was starting to become a young woman, They decided that I could see a more mature opera. Which by the way was amazing.. because we sat front row. However, I could sense that something was wrong ever since Don Juan disappeared behind the curtain and came back with a different voice and body structure. However, there was something about that man behind the mask that intrigued to my liking. He was just so dashing and handsome, and his voice. I can remember the beautiful notes that escaped from his body as if it happened yesterday. And quickly that moment was destroyed by mother covering my eyes, and everyone was screaming. And then flames, and then I was trapped underneath a burning piece of floor for a while. The cries that escaped my lips were just so suffocating and my lungs felt like they were turning to ash. I can still feel the flames burning against my neck and consuming the back of it. And then after that, all I can remember is a flash of black grabbing me from the flames and bringing me out to the world that I know. But before I could even thank my rescuer for saving me, they were gone.
I remember the look of sadness in father's eyes. I tried to get up but fell. So I crawled over to him, grabbing his leg.
"Papa.. what's wrong?" I asked.
"Your mother is dead girl! And it's all your fault!" He said. Grabbing me by the hair and throwing me over his shoulder as we went home.
It's strange, dad has never done anything to hurt me before.
We finally got to our house and as father opened the door, he threw me to the ground. I yelped in pain as my knee collided with the floor.
"Papa, my knee hurts."
"Shut up Freckles! You are the reason why your mother has been consumed by the flames!!! Why did you even have to be born? I never wanted children anyways, especially realizing what it is like growing up with a disgrace of a daughter like you!" He yelled as he kicked me in the side. He does realize that he has two children right?
I started crying until the beatings were over...
"You should've ran away like your brother!"However, all of this nonsense continued on day after day. Dad would come home drunk from the tavern, and beat me every night. All of the horrible words that came out of his mouth were to powerful to bare. And most of the times I just ignored it and let it slide. But after a while I started to believe every single awful thing that was said about me. And I started to become depressed. To the point where I just wanted to die. But before it could get any worse, I realized that I needed to get out of this horrible environment. So I ran away with nothing and I have been living out on the streets for the past few years.
Oh no, I hear the street officers. I can't let them get me, not yet. I've been in hiding for too long. Life can not end for me. Not yet.___________________________
So yeah, I have decided to change the whole story line of this story. I like it much better, and I hope you all do to!Comment, vote and follow please!!!
Love you all
Forever your obedient author...
MR🌹
YOU ARE READING
Paper Faces||Phantom Of The Opera||
RomanceAfter the disastrous fire that obliterated the Opera Populaire. The sweet young Soprano Christine Daae ran away with her childhood sweetheart Raoul de Chagny; leaving poor Erik Destler alone in the dark deep catacombs of his solitude under the oper...