A/N: Hi! Well, I just want to say that I'm completely re-posting this story. I edited the chapters and everything (something I'm most lazy to do with my stories) and basically I will begin again, though I didn't change much. Also, I want to thank PainlessAnguish for being the only reviewer and AkatsukiMercy1515 for following and favoriting haha :P And least but not less, to everyone who read it :)
You might notice it's the same just with mistakes corrected and little things fixed, but as I said I'd like to begin again :)
Prologue: The Phantom
The girl couldn't stop crying. She lied curled up in the corner of the empty room. The other girls were down on their practice. Madame Giry had allowed her to miss the class for as long as she needed to. She couldn't stand missing a class. Dancing was the thing she loved the most in the world. Even when she was sick she managed to get out of bed and make some ballet poses.
But now, she would surely take at least a week off.
She wrinkled the paper on her hands, not daring to read it again. That morning, when Madame Giry had come into the room announcing she had correspondence, she'd happily made her way through her roommates and taken the envelop with expecting eyes.
She expected some notice from her parents. They'd been on a business trip at Lyon for almost three months already, and they were supposed to be back on Paris the next day. She wanted the letter to say that they'll go meet her as soon as they arrived, or that they'll bring her a gift from Lyon, or that they'll be at her performance the next week.
But as soon as she read the few lines written on it, her legs gave away beneath her and made her crumble to the floor.
Immediately all the girls made a circle around her, asking her if she was okay and wondering what the letter said. Madame Giry just stood at the room's door, looking at her with pitiful eyes but saying nothing, as she already knew this would happen.
When the time for the class came the girls were already on their ballerina dresses and helping each other to comb their hair. Everyone except for her.
She curled up in the corner, gripping the paper so tightly that it was torn on some parts. Her tears were getting her clothes wet and her face was buried on her knees.
Madame Giry had gone to her and said in a soft voice that she did not have to worry about the classes. She had put a hand on her shoulder before leaving the room.
When she was left alone she started to sob uncontrollably.
Her sweet, caring mother. Her kind, charming father.
The letter did speak about them, but instead of the news she'd been waiting for, it was from one of her father's associates, telling her that there had been a terrible fire at one of the warehouses and none of them could make it out.
She clenched her fists and in anger she made the paper a ball and threw it away with all her might. She buried her face on her knees again when she suddenly felt the hit of something like a ball. She looked at it and it was her paper ball.
"Hello?" she asked, her voice trembling with crescent panic. She was supposed to be alone in the room. As if on cue, no response came.
"Hello?" she tried again, she was sure she'd thrown the ball away, and she'd felt it been thrown back. Unless she was going mad, which wouldn't be a surprise due to the shock she was going through.
She tried to convince herself it was that when something flew on the air and landed at her feet. It was the letter's envelope.
"Who is there?" she asked standing, and now sure that she was not crazy. The door closed. She turned around scared.
"M-Matt," she stammered, "it is not funny, you know. You should be comforting me instead of p-pulling me a joke," she said. But when the silence followed her words she knew there was no Matt to complain with.
Instead of Matt, from the shadows emerged a figure wearing a long black cloak. A man, a tall black haired man. He was dressed fully in black. His black hair was swept behind and a white mask covered half his face. His eyes fixed on her with such intensity that she almost fell again.
"Stop crying child," he said with a deep voice. Julliette shivered. "Some things in life you just cannot change. I understand that feeling. They make your life feel miserable, empty," he paced around the room, looking at the ceiling as if he was speaking with himself.
Her eyes followed him. She was frozen on the spot. She tried to open her mouth to speak but no sound came out of it. He stopped and looked at her.
"But if you come with me," he thrust out his hand, covered by a black glove, "I can show you the true beauty of this world. I can help you get over everything that hurts you. I can give your life a new meaning," he sentenced.
She should've gotten away with fear, she should've screamed in terror. A stranger was on her room, looking suspiciously like a criminal and inviting her to go God knows where. But instead of backing away she walked to him, moved by her curiosity. The true beauty of the world? A life with a new meaning? In that moment, that sounded good to her. Her life had lost all meaning since she read that letter. For a seven year old kid, the idea of someone helping you with your grief didn't sound bad, did it?
She took the hand he offered. He smiled and started to walk. She followed him into the darknessā¦.
