Author's Note: Well, here it is. Chapter 1 of my first story, Facade. Facade deals with rather dark subjects- which begin in chapter 1. So please be aware, this is an M story. Dealing with M situations. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing is- I believe this story is off to a very interesting start, and that chapter 1 is definitely setting the stage for future dramas. I am very excited about this story- but also terribly nervous. Any criticisms are welcome, but this is my first story! Please be kind! Feedback would be lovely :)
IceQueen13345
Facade
Chapter 1. The Promise
~o0o~
Just outside of Paris...
The gentle breeze bristled through the deep green leaves of the trees; it's spidery braches stretching toward the sapphire sky. The sun was high in the center of the sky, beating down relentlessly upon a small town just outside of Paris, France.
A young, eighteen-year-old Christine Daae held back tears, despite the cheerful weather. She ran her fingertips through the dark hair of her father, Gustave, who stared up at her with pain-filled brown eyes. His weak, sweaty hand clutched the back of her neck with all his might. "Christine..." he whispered breathlessly, and his weak voice struck deep into her soul.
"Shh," She whispered, putting her finger to his lips. "Father, do not attempt to speak. Just rest. Close your eyes and rest."
A faint smile came to Gustave Daae's lips, as he looked at his daughter. She was such an image of her mother. So beautiful. She had grown into the lovely young woman he had always prayed she would become. And seeing her now. He was at peace. "Sweet Christine," He said, with a knowing smile on his face, "so young. So innocent. Promise me you will stay... this way... you mustn't... l-lose yourself in the cruelties of... the world..." His voice broke with almost each word.
A tear rolled down Christine's cheek, he couldn't leave her. Not now. "Please... please, do not speak like this. You will- you will be all right. I promise you. You cannot leave me. Everything will be as it was- I prom- "
"Silence, child," Gustave commanded weakly. "I want you to promise me th-that you... will not... lose sight of what you are..."
More tears cascaded down Christine's cheeks, "I-I promise, Father."
"Come close, Christine." Gustave said, and he opened his eyes weakly. Pain rushed through him, but he smiled despite. She was such a beauty. "I will leave you today- "
"No- "
"Silence. I will not be here by the time the sun sets. But you will be protected, my dear. I will- I... will send you the Angel of music t-to guide you..."
"The... Angel of Music?"
Gustave nodded weakly, "He will guide you, teach you. He will be your protector... Have f-faith in him... He will c-c-come..."
"Father, you're hurt. Please do not try to- "
"Christine," Gustave met her gaze with eyes that read knowing, and it struck her to the core, "I am dying." He rasped. He looked up at her once more, his eyes glimmering with tears. With her dark, tumbling curls and shining brown eyes, her porcelain skin and deep red lips- she looked exactly like her mother. No, she was her mother. Julia had always been so kind, so forgiving. An Angel sent from the Heavens. And Christine was the same. Gustave could hardly bare to leave her- his daughter, his life. But seeing her grow, that was all the blessing he needed. "You are so... l-like your mother..." With those final words, Gustave Daae leaned back his head, and closed his eyes for the last time.
Christine began to sob, "Father? No, Father please. Please, come back to me! Come b-b-back..." Christine buried her face in her father's chest, sobbing into him. "Come... back..."
"Ah-em." Someone cleared their throat behind her.
Christine jolted upward and turned, wiping tears from her eyes. She did not recognize the man before her, he had light curls and a pale, skinny face. His eyes were grey and unhappy, and he stared at her as though she made his tedious. "M-may I help you, Monsieur?" Christine asked weakly, still crying despite herself.
"Yes. Mademoiselle Christine Daae?"
"That is I."
"I am sergent Jules Reyer," The man said. His voice was sharp, as though he were cutting through glass. He spoke quickly, but his voice softened, "I... am sorry for your loss, Mademoiselle."
Christine felt a flush of anger, "Please, what is it you want, Monsieur? Forgive me, I do not want visitors- "
"Of course not," He spoke sharply again, all emotional lost. "Forgive me. I come here because there are a few issues with the ownership of this estate. I only wish I could come at a later time, but I am afraid the matter is urgent."
Christine frowned, "Ownership issues? Might I ask of what nature?"
"Mademoiselle- oh, do forgive me for coming at such bad timing- you're father was in terrible debt. He has left you with almost nothing, and I have been informed to come and claim this estate as vacant."
"Pardon me?" Christine cried, "My father has just died! He has been ill in bed for months. There is no possible way he could ever have become in debt!"
Sergent Reyer exhaled, "Please do not make this more difficult than it already is, Mademoiselle Daae."
"You cannot take this estate away from me!" Christine exclaimed, "I have no where else to live!"
"I am afraid that is no concern of mine," The sergent said a bit too angrily, "If you will please pack your things. You have an hour."
~o0o~
Christine bit her lip, forcing back tears. It was to no avail, however, for a few hot, stray tears escaped. She walked through the streets of Paris, a bag in either hand. The night was almost upon her, and she had been in and out of building all over the city searching for a job. There were few people on the street, and the occasional carriage passed by. But mostly, Christine was alone. She raised her eyes to the deep blue sky, seeing only one sparkling star in the horizon. "Hello, Father," she whispered to it, her voice raspy. "I am frightened, without you. I miss you so. But I do as you say, and I have faith in my Angel of Music. I- "
"Oi!" Someone called in Christine's direction from the other side of the street. A woman ran across the road and rushed over to Christine. Her face was caked with sot, but her beautiful feature shone through. She had lovely long blonde hair, and piercing green eyes. She had perfect posture. But her accent was cockney, and she was dressed all in rags. "'Ou're a pretty li'll thing. What'd someone like you be doin' out 'ere in the middle of the ni'ght?"
Christine did not bother to fabricate any story. She simply burst into sobs. "Oh, God." she weeped, sitting on one of her bags, "I've lost everything today. I'm lost... I don't even know where I am."
"Oh, Miss," The girl said, "'ou're in the darkest place in all of P'ris, you are. M'name's Anna, by the way. Anna Fosteir." A devilish grin crossed Anna's face, "Say, dearie. You lookin' for a bed to sleep in, ain't you?"
Christine nodded, wary now.
"You're a lovely li'll dear. They'll all treat ya nice, I bet. Come, follow me." Anna led Christine to a dimly lit stone building. Christine was led down a dark corridor, and then Anna led her into a room, which was completely dark. Anna lit a few candles, and Christine saw a sort of foyer. She sat down on a chaise, and Anna went over to a door connecting to the room and knocked on it a few times. "Nellie," She hissed.
The door squeaked open and a woman stepped out. She was beautiful. She had long, straight brown hair hair and gentle blue eyes. Her lips were red and deep and her skin sun-kissed. She looked about thirty years or so. She looked Christine up and down, and grinned, whispering something the Anna.
Christine watched the two, completely bewildered.
Nellie took a step toward Christine, and for some reason Christine instinctivly stepped back. Nellie laughed, a soothing sound. She spoke then, "Christine, is it?"
Christine nodded.
Nellie placed a hand on Christine's shoulder, "Poor dear. You look as though you've been crying." She sounded British, and her voice was syrupy and smooth. Almost menacing. Christine could hear the fabricated pity in Nellie's voice. But somehow she felt drawn to this person. "Anna has told me how you've been lost. But you see, we always have room for you. We accept anybody who is lost."
"You- you do?"
"Of course." Nellie's eyes were blazing, something in the fire in her eyes were frightening, overwhelming. "We are the lovely ladies of the evening. You are a beauty, Christine. Join us, please."
Christine took in a sharp breath, "You are a pro- "
"Don't think of it like that." Nellie laughed a light little laugh, fiddling a bit with her hair as if she hadn't a care in the world. "We bring spirits up, my dear. We help young men back on their feet, to give them a sense of masculinity."
"But I am not like you. I am only eighteen- "
"We've 'ad younger," Anna added quickly.
Christine wanted to scream. She yearned to run away. But then... the thought lingered still in her mind. What had she to lose? Her father was dead, her wealth gone. There was no more she could ask for in life. Everything had been take away in a mere instant. Everything that had once been so beautiful, the very fruits of happiness had began to rot just as they reached her hand. A few tears ran down her cheek, but she nodded, "I... I will..."
Nellie smiled a wicked smile. "Wonderful, dear. Don't you cry, lovely. You'll get well paid. I expect you'll have a good few customers this very night. You are a pretty little thing."
Christine let the girls lead her away, let them strip her of her clothing and put on new clothing- terrible clothing. She felt so disgusting, wearing these things, and she observed herself in the mirror of her new bedroom, if you could ever call it that. She looked as all the other did, only she had a clean face. She was still pure. For in this moment, she knew she must shed her innocence. She had to cast away all her prior beliefs. All her fantasies would be shot away in that one moment- most likely tonight. A tear crookedly found it's path down her cheek, and creeped into the corner of her lip, leaving a trail of the salty substance behind on her cheek. She did not bother wiping it away. She would be soon used to crying. Soon used to feeling so disgusting, so filthy. This was her life, her present, her future. Her past one have to be forgotten each night. Each night until salvation.
Each night until her Angel.
She closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer to her father, pleading only for forgiveness. "Christine!" She heard a voice call from downstairs. She looked at her wretched self one last time in the mirror, before turning and going downstairs.
She had a customer.