I was inspired to write this by the ballet Swan Lake with a little bit of Darren Aronofsky's Black Swan thrown in. I really hope this turns out to be as good as I think it's going to be. Anyway, I own nothing except for my OC, Melina Toupin, and the plot. Enjoy! :) Prologue

When the clock struck midnight, not a soul in the Opera Populaire was walking about. Fear of the Phantom of the Opera, who had come to deliver his scandalous opera at the annual New Year's Masquerade after three months of silence, had driven all the inhabitants of the famous opera house to retiring to their rooms almost as soon as the sun went down. No one wanted to be caught alone wandering the halls at night while a madman could have quite possibly been hiding in the shadows just waiting to catch his next victim by the neck with his infamous Punjab lasso. So, as the sun would begin its descent, all the workers, principles, chorus girls, and ballet rats alike would hurry to finish whatever business they were in the middle of and scurry to the safety of their rooms. However, on the night of January 2, 1871, a lone figure could be seen on the Opera Populaire's rooftop.

Upon closer inspection, the figure could be identified as a woman around the age of twenty. She stood out well against the blackness of the night for she was clad in an all white ensemble. This ensemble included a tutu in the classic 'pancake' style with the top layer of netting adorned with small feathers, a fitting bodice with a few layers of tarlatan and muslin bedecked with gems to sparkle like diamonds and feathers on the breasts, a crown that mimicked Caesar's crown of laurels but designed as two wings, white tights, and finished with a pair of pale pink pointe slippers. She proved to be skilled with those pointe shoes as she lifted herself onto her toes and began to dance. Her body moved with the grace of a prima ballerina as she glided across the Populaire's rooftop to the sound of music only she could hear. Although the roof's rough surface snagged the delicate satin of her slippers, the young woman continued to pour her heart and soul into her last performance. As she spun and leapt through the routine she had memorized, her costume and the snow around her became flecked with scarlet.

She continued on, dancing until she found herself on the roof's ledge. Tears streamed down her face, causing the white makeup on her face to run, as she lifted her bleeding arms into fifth position and took one last look at her imaginary crowd. Despite the cascade of tears, there was a determined look in her eyes as she took one final step backwards.

Time slowed to a crawl as she fell through the frigid air. The young woman thought through her short life as she watched the grinning moon and winking stars get further and further away from her. She saw a half-white mask peering over the edge of roof and couldn't stop the content smile that spread across her face; she was happy to know that she got to see him one last time. She closed her eyes to savor that image and uttered one last word:

"Erik."

With a sickening CRACK she landed on the front steps leading to the doors of the Opera Populaire. Blood poured from the back of her crushed skull, pooling on the marble steps and soaking into her dark hair. Her limbs, splintered in various places due to her landing, bent at odd angles that no human should be able to achieve. Despite the grotesque sight she was, the fallen ballerina still had that complacent smile on her tear-stained face.