The Demon's Child and the Phantom

Chapter 5

Rosella's POV: 

It's been a few weeks living with Daroga, as he insists I call him, and he has been nothing but kind to me. He had the doctor come back and change the bandages on my back a few times and the wounds have healed, though the scars shall remain. It doesn't bother me anymore though. I don't expect to ever get married so why should I let the scars bother me. Most people don't ever get passed the colors of my eyes so why should I worry about the scars on my back.

Daroga did ask me about the cross scars I had burned into my shoulder blades and sporadically on my back, practically covering it. I thought it best to tell him of the ones going down both my arms to my wrists and the ones on my stomach and my legs so he will know why I always wear long sleeve dresses even in summer.

He was shocked and angry at what I had undergone, but he also showed me kindness and said the scars were beautiful. I simply nodded at the lie and thanked him, not in the mood to argue with him as I had grown to learn how stubborn he was on such issues. I know the scars are ugly, as ugly as the gypsies' hearts that gave them to me.

The rest of the servants in his house have been kind, even though when I look some of them in the eye they seem to pale or look away. It is to be expected I suppose. I have the eyes and hair of a demon, or even a witch as some would say. I had asked Daroga why he was not bothered by my eyes and his answer showed clear in his voice when he said that he thought them beautiful. I scoffed at that a bit, trying to imagine what he saw in my horrid eyes that could be deemed anything close to beautiful, but I couldn't help but trust that he was in fact being honest with me.

Over the course of the last few weeks, I have had to battle back the insanity that threatened to take hold every now and again. It is only thanks to my past with the Gypsies and the constant beatings and burnings that I have any insanity at all. I have only worked so hard on restraining it now because to let it out around Daroga would not express my gratitude towards him, especially if I was to hurt him or worse in that state. I owe Daroga much after the time I've spent under his care and in his house.

I have even asked Daroga more about the opera house. The Phantom was rumored to still be haunting and essentially running the opera house, even though he was supposedly dead. I don't believe that he ever was a Phantom. Rather, I feel that he was and is a man with a tortured past that must resemble mine somehow. How else could his own insanity and acts of absolute madness be explained?

I had asked Daroga about him several times but was always given vague answers. I didn't ask him about the murders because I didn't care for those and I felt that without the Phantom's side of the story I'd rather not hear about them. Murder had crossed my mind for several of my owners, and had I had the opportunity during a burst of insanity I might have done the same. So, I could not judge him for that.

I wondered briefly about his face, as it was said that the soprano he loved had fled from his face because she was too scared to look at it. I felt that we shared a similar misfortune in our features that caused others to fear and hate us. But I was curious as to whether he was born that way as I was, or had it forced upon him by some cruel trick of fate. His music was the other thing that greatly held my interest. I had long loved music and the emotions that it could set free and that could be expressed in melodies and tempos.

I had heard that as crazy and disfigured the Phantom was, he was a musical genius, a wonderful composer, and an entrancing singer. Music was the first escape that I had ever found while serving first the gypsies and then my many masters after them, and I reveled in the idea that he too loved it as I did. I had the strangest desire to hear him play and sing. And even though I knew that I should probably be afraid of him, I couldn't bring myself to fear him.

Daroga had told me little else about the opera house, but he had said that when I was ready I could attend work with him. I was meant to accompany Daroga to the opera house tomorrow in fact, and though I was excited to see it in all it's splendor I wished so desperately that there was something to be done with my eyes and even my hair. But there was nothing I could and Daroga kept insisting it would be fine. I could only trust and hope that he was right.

I had let my thoughts get lost in the light of the moon on the roses in the garden before I finally forced myself to lay down on the bed. I eventually fell into a restless sleep, dreaming calming dreams of a man in a mask with a velvet voice followed by the horrifying nightmares of my past. I woke early in the morning thanks to the latter and soon after I heard Daroga knock on my door asking if I was ready.

I wasn't mentally ready but told him yes as I combed through my curls again, wishing the red streak would blend in more than I had already forced it to, and again smoothed the front of one of the dresses he got for me. I kept my head low as we walked out into the sunlight and into a carriage that was waiting for us. Daroga offered me his hand to get into the open carriage and I took it to help me into the carriage, and we then proceeded to ride to the opera house in silence.

I could feel the excitement and the dread build in me as we got closer and closer to the famed opera house, but when the carriage stopped I was stunned by the beauty of it. Gargoyles and golden angles littered the top of the opera house, while the columns in front of it demanded your attention with the numerous amounts of detail put into each one. I took Daroga's hand, barely noticing his smile as I didn't look down on instinct. My instincts were too amazed by the sight in front of me to react to anything else at the moment.

I held onto his arm, surprising both of us I believe with the amount of contact I was creating, as we walked through the door and was greeted by a grand staircase with a painted mural of heaven on the ceiling. The entire hall was enormous, with multiple stories above us and at least one below with staircases leading down on the other two sides of the grand one. I couldn't help but marvel at all the intricate details in the moldings, the ceiling, and each glittering chandelier that hung above us.

The gold of the banisters, the railings, the numerous small chandeliers lining the halls all glittered happily at me as if they were welcoming me home. It was a strange feeling that I had never experienced before, not even in Florica's wagon. I felt a rare smile form on my face as the feeling seemed to touch my very soul. I followed Daroga up the staircase and into an office that had his full name on the front, Nadir Khan, with Manager written underneath it.

I was so enraptured by the place that I didn't realize that we were not alone anymore as we walked into his office. I was too busy constantly looking up to examine all the beautiful details of this magnificent place. I didn't notice the other inhabitants of the office until I heard someone gasp as the office door was shut quietly behind us.

I lose my smile as I look toward the sound and see an older woman dressed in all black with her light brown and gray hair pulled into a tight bun. She has a stern yet curious look on her face as she glances at Daroga and then me. The second person is a young woman who looked a few years younger than me with blond hair hanging down on her shoulders, held in place with a ribbon, wearing what looked to be a ballet uniform.

I met their stares head on for but a moment, my training having been temporarily shut off due to the grandeur of the opera house, and I watched as both of them looked at me with wide eyes filled with shock. I can only assume that it's directed at my eyes which in the dimly lit room glow even brighter, that much I know. I quickly look down at the red carpeted floor with the golden pattern sewn in it, before side-stepping behind Daroga as he walks further into the office.

I heard a soft sigh leave him, and I knew he was upset that my posture and attitude had changed so quickly but it was not to be helped. I keep my head down as we walk further in, stopping only when he offers me a chair behind the desk next to his before he turns to the other two women. I heard them approach the desk and glanced up to see them both looking at me with curiosity before Daroga grabbed their attention by clearing his throat.

"Madame Giry, Mademoiselle Meg, I would like you both to meet my guest Mademoiselle Rosella. She will be staying with me for some time and wanted to see the Opera House. She may also be working here later on. Now what can I do for you two this morning?"

"Bonjour Mademoiselle. Monsieur Khan, the ticket booth was unsure whether to sell tickets to Box 5 or leave it sold out for the season. I gave them an answer, but they wanted confirmation from yourself." (Giry) 

"Madame Giry, I think we both know that Box 5 will always be sold out for the owner. So that is a simple question to answer, but if they want it in writing I will provide that as well. What else could have brought you here this early in the day I wonder."

"Monsieur.......he has been scaring the ballerinas again. Many are afraid to stay in the dorms anymore, but have nowhere else to go. There is only so much I can do to convince them to stay Monsieur." (Meg)

"I see. Thank you, Mademoiselle, I will talk to him about it now. Would one of you be so kind to show Rosella the rest of the opera house? I dare say she would even like to look in on rehearsals." (D) 

"I will be happy to show her around Monsieur, Meg has rehearsals."

"Merci, Madame Giry. Rosella, I will see you later?" (D) 

"Of course Daroga."

I watch through my lashes as he walks out of the room, and I find that I'm still slightly confused by the gist of the conversation that just took place. There was a part of me that wonders if the 'he' that is scaring the ballerinas is the Phantom, but that would mean that Daroga is on good enough terms with him to speak with him. Something that Daroga had never mentioned in all the times I asked him about the Phantom. My thoughts are paused as I listen to the door shutting gently behind the girl named Meg.

I know that she must be a dancer as light as she is on her feet. I begin to wonder if it was in fact the Phantom that had been scaring people. Surprisingly though, rather than feel angry at Daroga for not telling me more or even frightened at the thought that he lingers here still I feel intrigued. Though the Phantom does not scare me, there is something that frightens me right now.

I didn't want Daroga to leave me alone with Madame Giry, but I knew he had work to do. It was not being left without him per say that bothered me, but being left alone with someone I didn't know. I had just discovered within myself that I trusted Daroga, but I had no trust for people I had never and being alone with them frightened me more than anything else. I suppose I should have told Daroga how I really felt about him leaving me here, but I was too proud to admit my fear, a mistake I will probably continue to make in the future.

I feel myself start to stiffen as Daroga's footsteps grew softer in sound until as he makes his way further and further away from me and Madame Giry. I finally tear my attention away from the sound of his footsteps disappearing and instead focus on what she is doing now that we are alone. Just because she is a woman means nothing, as women are capable of just as much hatred and evil as any man could be.