Broken Reflection

Chapter 1: Cosette

I laughed, giddy with the sound of the music in my ears. It was beautiful, a low melodious voice that made my heart race. Even without seeing this mysterious singer, as I had my eyes closed, I could tell that it was a male with little to no vocal training. As the singer crescendoed through the chorus, it made me want to sing along.

I opened my eyes and released the song bubbling up within me, giving away my position in box 6. I couldn't care less if they saw me, thank god they couldn't due to the shadows I had cast around myself, for my song was the most beautiful of them all.

The singer's eyes rove around the opera house, looking for me. Then came a cry, "It's the Poltergeist! It's come for us!" All hell broke loose down on stage with everybody evacuating and running to their dressing rooms. All except the singer. He had auburn hair with streaks of gold that ran through it and made itself look alive and eyes made of melting platinum.

As I finished the song, the singer's eyes still searching, I felt the familiar shape of a man's hand on my shoulder. "My dear, as much as I love to listen to your song, you shouldn't have risked it." I shivered as I felt the murmur caress my ears, and spinning around, there was the Phantom. My Phantom.

His purple eyes stared down at me, meeting my red ones. A song burned inside of me, an odyssey that spun inside, waiting for release.

The gloved hand that rested on my shoulder squeezed until it was painful. "I told you to wait 'till I returned, no?"

I looked down at the ground, shame mixing with the odyssey that was spun by him. "Yes, but the song drew me out and-"

I whipped around as the singer's voice echoed around and filled my ears. "Who's there?"

The Phantom spun me around once again and rage danced in his eyes behind his white porcelain mask, "Ignore him, come with me, my dear Seraph of Melody."

I grinned even though he couldn't see it and let him take my hand and lead me away from the singer. The Phantom guided me through the secret passages in the walls, I still remember when we were children, running around innocently until the abuse started. These secret halls used to be a safe haven, the water cascading down the walls as if they were crying. Sometimes I can almost hear the sobs of the walls, weeping at the sight of my mock face, torn apart from all the years of beatings. Somedays, I wonder what had made the Phantom angry enough to torment me with not only his song, but with his hands that had contained the noose that made a permanent bruise around my throat and the many scars on my face and the rest of my body.

The Phantom was staring at me as we turned a corner and stopped, his voice caressing me again. "Is something the matter, my dear Seraph of Melody?"

Shaking my head, I anxiously tried not to throw him into a fit of anger. "No, Ryke. Nothing is wrong." Ryke was a nickname of mine for him ever since we were children, and with him always disappearing, the name meaning "smoke" always suited him. His normal name had vanished from existence with Ryke replacing it.

He took off his mask to reveal a face that makes my heart race every time I see it, a face that reminds me of the Before; of when I used to be beautiful. His purple eyes always took my breath away, the soft curve of his lips that could kiss away my fears, the sharp point of his nose and every little bit of his face was perfect. So perfect. I let out a sigh of longing, oh how I wish that I still had my own perfect face. A face that one could stare at for hours and not run away in fear, this was one of the reasons that I loved Ryke. He could see past my hideous, scarred face and not run.

Ryke reached for my own mask and pulled it off, exposing the puckered scarring that was my face. My lips were crisscrossed with scars, hardly making them lips, my eyes were not even there, except for the blood red that could only be seen in the darkest of shadows that thus give the illusion of having no eyes. There were many scars that were like tracks that led from my hairline to even the pads of my feet, my hair was still curled in it's natural way that made it have the illusion that the black was "choking" the white out of my hair. That's all my life ever was, an illusion, then came the beatings and my true face was revealed. There was one scar that would forever stand out on me, it was the one that had went the deepest. It started just under my right eyebrow and stretched itself down over my eye, onto my right cheek; collapsing that side of my face. From there, it crossed my throat onto the other side of my body and down over my left breast. It went further, so far that it reached my toes, intertwining with others on it's way down.