Chapter 2

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Publisher Note: I decided to put up the second chapter :) please comment/vote so I know at least someone is enjoying it.

Trigger Warning: Sexual abuse, violence, and language.

Christine was not popular amongst the men, for this she was grateful. Too passive, she was bland in bed; she felt no reason to perform well if they were going to pay the price she'd given anyways. She learned quickly what type of men was worth trying with, that was the man who tipped, and he was the man dressed well and who tasted of wine instead of rum. Only then did Christine bother to fake moans or pull at their hair, otherwise she would thrust lazily and keep her eyes closed and lips pliant. Her dream land had sprung back to life, but it had taken many new forms. Now she dreamt of a man who loved her, who brought pleasure to her, who didn't twist her nipples with wrinkled fingers or pull her hair as she bobbed between his thighs. She dreamt of a tall, blonde man with blue eyes, the type of man who wore silk in his breast pocket and would never dream of coming to a place like this. The type of man who would offer his arm to her on afternoon strolls, who would allow her to sleep at night in a grand bed full of luscious pillows, and even bathe in a bathtub that could hold enough water to cover her entire body. Christine was broken from this dream when her customer slapped her across the face, before squeezing her cheeks tightly.

"Bitch, you'll look at me when I cum in you!" It was a demand she heard often, that did not send her into a fit of rage like it had the first time she heard it. Eyes opened and unimpressed, Christine watched the man's contorted face before he fell into a sweaty heap atop her, mouth sending hot air across her chest.

"Thanks, doll."

It was a bronze coin that landed on her naked breast before he slammed the door behind him. Working at nights was difficult, because it left her exhausted and with the only option to sleep during the day, so she had no idea how these customers came and exhausted themselves then went on to lead normal lives in the morning. She wished to understand where man's endless strength from, she wished to possess all the strength in the world in the morning. That morning she would add the coin to her stash, counting up what little money she had. Having no plan but one of escape and no dreams but of love and freedom, Christine Daae decided in that moment that she was going to run away. Where she would go she had no idea and how she would travel, again she was clueless. But she refused to live like this any longer, in this dank, musty place where her body was some sort of toy to be fondled and abused by strangers. Her cheeks strung and she knew she stunk of sweat and sex as she stared up at the ceiling. In the morning, she reassured herself as she felt hot tears escaping from her tired eyes, she would pack what little she had and she would leave for good.

Her sixteenth birthday had been ten months ago, every night she'd worked since then had haunted her every dream, every breath, every thought. For reasons she would not admit to herself, her job had become her life completely. It was how she passed her time, it was how she had a home and food, sex had consumed every portion of her life, but it had not consumed her innocence. Christine was a rose that had been left out in the sun for too long, tired, anxious, drooping, but still holding an inner beauty that shone out through her eyes. Although young women never know how beautiful they truly are, Christine could see that if all else about her was hideous and worthless, at least she had a gleam of hope in her eyes.

When the moon had fallen and sunlight poured in through the windows of the brothel, the stable boy made his way through the rooms closing the curtains and washing the sheets, and finally silence fell upon the building. Fake moans were replaced by exhausted snores, the sound of glasses slamming against the wooden bar were replaced with the neighing of horses in the stable, and the clacking of the Madame's heels across the wooden floors was replaced with the sound of Christine yanking her clothes off of her body. It was not an easy decision to make, to leave all that she knew in the middle of a day to try to find work in a busy city where she had no skills or contacts. She was a whore, knew only of whoring and cleaning, and surely those two things were useless in everywhere but a brothel. Leaving Madame Rouge's would mean leaving a bed, food, and the comfort of protection from the band of brutes.

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