Hi! I wanted to give writing a POTO fanfic a try, and here it is! Don't know how it will turn out but I hope you enjoy. WARNING: Erik is a little dark in this fanfic (Even though he dark af already).
Jade Chynoweth as Elizabeth aka Lilly
I DON'T OWN ANYTHING RELATED TO PHANTOM OF THE OPERA, OKAY THANKS :)
Lilly PoV
"Elizabeth, point your toes on that spin," Mrs. Fell demands, huffing in annoyance.
If there is anyone who should be annoyed, it should be me at this woman. My parent's pay two thousand euros each month to send me to these dance classes. Yet all this woman has done recently is shout and criticize my movements.
Then again, I suppose for the price of the class, some harsh teaching is guaranteed.
I glare at the elderly woman before me, her forehead showing deep worry lines, and her eyes hidden behind hooded lids. Her lips are rooted into a tight line causing to look like she forever frowning. Banging her cane onto the floor she stares at me, making nerves begin to bubble up at the pit of my stomach.
The music starts back up, and I follow through my routine flawlessly.
At least I thought it was flawless until I heard a loud puff of air being let out.
"No, no. Your arching your back on the turnout, how many times must I remind you, Elizabeth," She scolds, banging her cane on the ground.
How many times must I remind you not to call me Elizabeth? I think sarcastically to myself.
"Next!" She yells and the next girl beings running up, ready to take the spotlight.
Rolling my eyes, I walk off towards the side of the stage, where the rest of the girls are sitting waiting to take their turn performing for the teacher. I spot a redhead ducking a weaving her way through the group, and I smile when I see my best and only friend, pop up in front of me breathlessly.
"Lilly, what's going on with you? Mrs. Fell usually yells at you, but she's never yelled at you that much," Samantha points out, frowning.
Samantha is the same age as me, eighteen, but her face still holds the features of a twelve-year-old. She has elbow length red hair, green eyes and a baby face full of freckles. She moved from Ireland to Paris five years ago with her family in pursuit of chasing her dreams, to be a dancer. She's my only friend, mainly because all the other girls are too stuck up and prissy for me.
"I've been doing a lot of different dance styles outside of class. I guess it's kind of thrown off my technique," I shrug, following Samantha towards the cases of props that we use to sit on.
"I wouldn't stress too much, you know Mrs. Fell is a perfectionist." She points out.
"What she is, is a bitch," I chuckle, hearing her shout at yet another dancer.
Looking around backstage at the old rafters and velvet red curtains I can't help but once again admire this building. I feel privileged just being able to be in this building let alone perform on the stage.
The old Opera Populaire, a staple of French history.
This place is beautiful and a huge tourist attraction. How lucky am I to not only get to perform on this stage but I live across the street from it. Every morning I wake up and open my curtains to see this once beautiful building. It's withered slightly with age, but it is still beautiful despite its cracks.
"Next!" I am pulled out of my thoughts by Mrs. Fell loud mouth.
"Wish me luck!" Samantha cheers while running onto the stage.
"Good luck!" I chuckle after her.
Your gonna need it.
After the performances, all the dancers started to clear out after getting changed. I took my time, in no rush to get back home to my fighting parents, and sick brother. As sick and cruel as it sounded, dancing was my escape from all the torment I endure at home.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Samantha said, leaning against the changing room door.
Looking around I see I'm the only one left.
"Yeah, see ya," I said, giving her a small wave and fake smile.
With a sigh, I pick up my backpack with my clothes inside and walk out into the hallway backstage. Following the dimly lit hallway, I stop in confusion when I hear footsteps above me. Looking up at the rafters I see there is nobody there.
From what I know those rafters haven't been used in decades.
Weird.
I continue walking, but I hear the noise again, this time my head snaps up as I try to catch who's up there, but again, nothing. What is making that noise?
Feeling slightly anxious that there is someone here and I'm all alone, I begin to walk as fast as my legs will let me. The metal above me creaks and I look back in worry, seeing the hallway is now barely lit, behind me.
Freaking out now I start to run only to stop short when I see a frowning Mrs. Fell in front of me, clasping onto her cane to stand. I let out a relieved pant, my chest rising and falling as I try to recollect myself.
"Your still here Elizabeth?" She questions, raising an eyebrow.
"I thought I heard something," I tell her in between pants.
Looking up I search for any signs of someone being there but there isn't.
"It's an old building, it's not uncommon for it to make some noise," She tells me, looking down at the floor.
I didn't believe her. What I heard wasn't creaking, it sounded like footsteps. Like a human being walking.
"Maybe your right," I mumbled, running a hand through my hair.
"You should get home, it's getting late, and we have an early session tomorrow, I expect you to be at your best tomorrow. I've noticed you've lost your passion, Elizabeth," She points out narrowing her eyes with judgment.
I was shocked, to say the least, that Mrs Fell was talking to me like this. We've never exchanged more than a few words between us. I'm surprised she talking to me like an actual human being.
"I haven't lost my passion for dance-" I begin to defend myself, but she holds up a hand for me to stop.
"Correct. But you've lost your passion for ballet. Look around you Elizabeth, this very place birthed a lineage of famous dancers." She tells me, a passion I've never seen before filling her glassy gray eyes.
I've always seen Mrs Fell as a grumpy old woman, but now she seems like a wise grumpy old woman. I can see what she's trying to achieve here, but it isn't going to work.
"You know, sometimes I wish I could go back in time, to see where it all started," I tell her, smiling at the thought of this place full of life at the prime of its time.
Mrs Fell stares at me, her gray eyes not blinking as she watches me with a blank expression. I try not to be creeped out by it, but its kind of hard when she is just standing there not doing anything.
"Mrs Fell? Are you okay?" I question, taking a careful step towards her.
Please don't die, don't die.
Thankfully she finally blinks and her expression is once again set into a stone-faced frown.
"You should go home Elizabeth," She orders.
Without another word, she turns around and slowly walks away. Her cane thudding against the ground as she goes. My eyebrows raise in confusion at our weird conversation. Did that really just happen? I have to tell Samantha tomorrow. I don't think anyone will believe me when I tell them I had a semi-normal conversation with Mrs Fell.
Shaking it off, I walk out into the foyer, then out into the cold winter air. Smiling at people I pass by in the streets I take my time walking towards the apartment building before me. I can see the lights on in the living room, letting me know my parents are still up.
My happiness dies out the minute I approach the front door. I can hear their muffled shouting already. Pulling out my keys, I dread every second it takes me to open the door. When the door is unlocked, I slide into the stuffy apartment, shutting the door before the neighbors have to endure my parent's wrath.
"Do you think those men like you? Becuase you flash your expensive jewelry at them, that I brought you?" Dad practically shouts at in my mother's face.
I look towards my red-faced father first. His once combed back brown hair is sticking up all over the place, his green eyes are bloodshot and his shallow cheeks are now puffy and red. His suit is untucked, creased and his tie is undone.
A quick glance at my mother I see she is in the same state. Her brown hair is a mess, her face red, her brown eyes filled with tears. Her cream dress that I know she loves has a dark brown stain running down the front. No doubt dad threw something at her, maybe coffee or tea, it wouldn't be the first time.
"I'm home," I announce, dropping my bag next to the door. "Not that anyone cares."
They chose to ignore me and carry on with their fight. Dragging my feet along the expensive Persian rug, I crack open my little brother's bedroom door. Immediately his little head pokes up from the bed, and he flashes me a bright smile.
"Lilly! Your back!" He cheers, trying to move but his breathing tube won't let him.
"Hey, little man, what have you been up to all afternoon?" I question, noticing his medicine he was meant to have taken is still on the side.
Jesus, I know my parents are going through a rough patch, but could one of them at least look after their son?
"Nothing, mummy didn't put a movie on for me," He tells me, and silently curse that woman.
"Well, I can fix that for you," I wink, walking over to his plasma tv.
Yes, a four year old has a plasma tv in his bedroom. That's what you get being born into a wealthy family in the twenty-first century.
"Tarzan?" I suggest, smiling at him over my shoulder.
He claps his hands together, giggling in excitement towards his favorite movie. I smile, putting the DVD in for him a hitting play.
"Did you have some dinner?" Please tell me that at least fed him...
He nods his head with a smile and I let out a sigh of relief. Thank God they actually did something. Picking up his medicine, I feel sick as I look at the needle I have to inject him with. No child should have to go through this, and the fact that it's my little brother makes it all the more painful.
Adrien is only four years old, with the same green eyes and brown hair as me. Even though he's in constant pain, and bed bound he always finds it in himself to laugh and smile like any other child. He's been cursed with a rare skin condition that not only affects the outside of his body but the inside as well. Parts of his skin comes up in harsh rashes and bumps that are sore to the touch.
I remember I simply hugged him once and he cried for a good hour from the pain.
Now as I look at him, his left arm is wrapped in a fresh bandage so a new rash must have formed on his arm. I push the needle into his right arm, watching him wince slightly in pain. I smile as he remembered to keep his eyes on the tv like I thought him too.
"All done," I announced once it's over, I throw the needle into the medical bin.
"Can you stay and watch the movie with me?"
Just looking into his big, doe eyes I am willing to do anything for him. With a small smile, I nod squishing myself next to him on the bed. His little body curls up into my side, and I'm careful not to touch him. The last thing I want to do is hurt him.
Only five minutes into the movie I hear the shouting from the living room increase. Reaching over to the side of the bed, I grab the remote turning the tv up louder to try and drown it out.
"Why do mummy and daddy fight?" Adrien asks.
This isn't the first time he's asked me this question, and every time I always give him the same lame answer.
"It's just what married couples do," I lie, not wanting him to know the truth.
I couldn't tell him the truth even if I wanted to. My parents haven't been in love for over two years now. The only thing holding their marriage together is Adrien, and even recently I've seen them begin to stop taking care of him. I'm just waiting for the day they announce their divorcement.
"I don't want to ever get married!" He proclaims with a frown.
"Me neither little man," I chuckle, leaning back onto the pillows.