Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction based off of the works of Leroux, Andrew Lloyd Weber, and Susan kay. No profit is being made from this story. All original characters are the property of this author.
Warnings: This story is rated M for mature audiences for violence, adult themes, adult content, adult language, sexual scenes, alcohol/drug addiction, character death, and references of rape/non-consent, domestic violence, and sexual abuse of a minor.
Author's Note: This story will be set approximately 2 years after the musical. It will have references to Leroux's phantom and elements of Susan Kay's novel as canon.
Persephone Unchained
Chapter 1
Sophie stood resolute and desperate on the street corner of the intersection of the Rue de Rivoli and the Rue du Castiglione just outside of the Jardin des Tuileries. It was her favorite place to sell her flowers in Paris. And even in the dead of winter Sophie usually managed to bring home just enough to pay the rent or buy that evening's dinner. However, today was not such a day. The weather had suddenly shifted for the worse and brought a cold wind howling throughout the streets of the city and it chased the Parisians inside.
Her shoulders ached as she struggled to hold the straw basket aloft while at the same time keeping her thick wool shawl wrapped tightly around herself. She scanned the emptying streets up and down and eyed the pedestrians, or lack thereof, and found that she was quite alone even though the sun had not yet set.
February in Paris could be brutal or charming depending upon how often one found oneself standing on a street corner. Unfortunately for Sophie, whose livelihood and well-being depended upon how much money she could earn in exchange for the flowers that she grew in her family's rooftop glass covered garden, that meant that winters were often brutal in more ways than one.
In order to help keep her family in food and clothing and her alcoholic, pugilistic stepfather in gin Sophie stood on street corners more often than not.
Still, her endeavors gave her a certain amount of freedom and autonomy that most other young women her age did not have. At twenty two Sophie was lucky to have such freedoms still. Most girls had been married for years and had born at least two or three children by her age. There were not many opportunities for a young spinster from a lower income working family. Sophie's green thumb allowed her to stay out of the whore houses and factories. So Sophie was grateful even when she had to stand on street corners holding a heavy basket for hours in inhospitable weather.
In fact, Sophie was so well versed within her little pocket of Paris that she could tell which streets were best for selling different wares and she felt as if she could navigate the streets in her sleep. On more than a few occasions where she had found herself returned home half asleep with no memory of the journey this skill had been very useful to her.
She shifted the basket from one arm to the other and clasped her wool mittened hands together trying to rub some spark of warmth back into her frozen fingers. A breeze blew down the alleyway behind her and sent a chill down her spine. She closed her eyes and pretended that she was warm and that the thin wool of her patched dress wasn't letting in more cold air than it was keeping out.
"So-phie!" a high pitched voice sang out from across the way. Sophie smiled when she saw little Emma, bundled up with scarves and shawls until only her rosy cheeks and a riot of messy brown curls could be seen. "Can we go home now, Sophie?" the little girl asked.
"It is getting late. How did you do?" Sophie asked the little girl.
Emma's grin exposed a missing front tooth which only added to her cherubic appearance. "You were right, Sophie! I sold over half of my matches! The Drowley boys were having another boxing fight in the back of the pub just like you said. I've sold more matches tonight than I did all week!" Emma pulled her little threadbare coin purse from a pocket of her shabby gown and held it aloft, jingling it for Sophie to see and hear.
"Oh!" Sophie exclaimed kindly, "that's wonderful Em. Why don't you go on home and give that to maman? And save me some stew and bread. I'm going to see if I can sell the rest of these bouquets and flowers before it gets too dark."
Emma pouted and stuffed her jingling coin purse full of centimes back into the safety of her dress pocket. "You're not coming with me?" the little girl asked as she rubbed her runny nose against the back of her mitten.
"No," Sophie explained kindly, "if I don't sell these flowers tonight then I don't think that they will last for selling tomorrow. Go on home and get warm for me," she added with a nod in the direction of home. They lived just a little ways down the street in the shabbier but still respectable part of town.
"I'll be there soon," Sophie added.
The little girl made a show of scraping the heel of her leather boot against the ground and pouted her little pink lips.
Sophie sighed and shifted her basket onto her hip so that one hand was freed. She tugged Emma's shawl tighter around her hair and face and let her thumb trail against the little girl's rosy, wind-chapped cheek.
"Oh… my… what's this? On your face? Why… I think it might just be a smile!" She joked as she pinched the little girl's cheek gently.
Emma let out a giggle at the attention until her face splitinto a cheschire grin from ear to ear.
"Oh, it is a smile! Oh my, and what a lovely smile you have" Sophie exclaimed lovingly.
"So-ph-ieeee stop iitttt!" Emma whined playfully.
"That's better. Now go on home before you freeze solid." Sophie swung her basket into Emma's behind and ushered the girl down the street.
Emma ran ahead, stopping only to wave one last goodbye, before she turned a corner and disappeared from view.
Sophie pulled her shawl tighter against the cold winter wind and she watched as Emma's tiny figure disappeared around the corner and headed in the direction of their home.
She sighed and lifted the corner of the blanket that was covering her delicate blooms. She counted four tiny bouquets and eleven even smaller bundles of flowers that were meant to be pinned to dresses or hats. Softly and under her breath she let out a stream of the most unladylike of curses. She added up the sums in her head and came to the conclusion that the week's earnings wouldn't be enough. If she didn't sell her basket tonight, or at the least by tomorrow, then they wouldn't have enough for the rent that was due on Monday.
But the streets were practically empty as people sought the comforts of their warm homes. Sophie scanned the street one last time and failed to find any new customers that she had missed before. She let out a huge sigh and covered the flowers up again. She hiked the straw basket up higher onto her shoulder and resolved herself to head in the opposite direction of home. If she made her way up towards the cafes which lined the street that connected the empty Jardin des Tuilleries and the old burned down remains of the Opera Populaire she might make enough money for the rent. The opera house had been shut down year ago, but the lines of cafes and restaurants were still busy with customers even on cold, winter evenings.
The Opera had once been a prime selling place for Sophie's greenhouse flowers in years past. She recalled standing outside of its carved stone and gilded edifice as she strained to hear a single note of music or song as she sold her flowers to the passing patrons. Sophie had made herself a nice little empire selling bouquets of flowers to smitten opera goers and fans who wanted to win the star Soprano's affections. La Carlotta had kept her family well fed for many years.
But those were only memories now. Now, two years after the tragic fire, the burned down ruin was simply a bitter reminder of better, happier times that could never be again. Better times like when her father had been alive and her little family had been happy and her life was simple and easy. She had once sold flowers in order to buy hair ribbons and books and other such frivolities. Now she sold them to save her family from ruin and the poorhouse.
Jacques, her mother's new husband, had come into their lives eight years ago and it was all that Sophie could do to manage to keep her oftentimes sharp tongue in check and not stir up trouble between them. He made it so very difficult. And her poor mother was no help. The woman was too timid to intervene.
It did not take much to rile Jacques' temper. He had been a charming suitor for Sophie's fragile, recently widowed, and desperate mother. But once his hold on Sophie's family had been solidified with marriage his attitude had promptly changed for the worse. He was a foul-tempered and quick to anger man with wandering eyes and hands. And with Jacques came yet another addition to their family. Little Emma was another mouth to feed and body to clothe. And to be honest, Emma was the only reason why Sophie stayed and tried to keep her little family afloat. How could she abandon a child to that man?
Sophie screwed her mouth down tight in determination and headed towards the one part of Paris which she loathed above all others. Because the line of cafes between home and there was sure to net her a few more francs and a few less bruises from Jacque's pinching hands.
Laughter spilled out into the streets as Sophie passed a line of cafes in various stages of the evening. Some were full to bursting with laughter and chatter and ladies in fine evening dresses and glittering paste jewels and gentleman in fine buttoned coats and leather gloves. Others were frequented only by a few regulars who set about their dinners with less frivolity and more routine.
She stared in the window of one such a place and imagined the feel of a silk gown on her body in place of her more practical home boiled wool dress. She imagined sipping on a glass of champagne while the bubbles broke against her tongue and she laughed carelessly at the joke of her dark haired companion. She had tasted champagne once when her father had bought a bottle for Christmas. But it had been a long time since then, and Sophie scarcely remembered the taste of it. After all, she'd only been a child. She hadn't realized what a special treat it was.
The patrons inside the little cafe shifted and she looked away in embarrassment as the door opened and two such lovely creatures emerged. She took a moment to find her voice and remember why she was here.
"A flower for the pretty lady, sir?" she offered demurely with downcast eyes.
The couple turned and stared at her, looking her up and down. "Oh Philippe, can we? I haven't had flowers in ages," the woman exclaimed.
"Hmm?" the gentleman said in a distracted voice. "Oh, yes, of course. Let's have a look, shall we?"
Sophie pulled back the blanket and expose her delicate blooms.
"Roses in winter?" the woman said in a shocked voice, "I didn't think they bloomed at this time of year."
Sophie smiled and replied, "I grow them in a glass house, mademoiselle. My flowers bloom all year."
The gentleman picked out a small bouquet of yellow roses from the basket and presented them with a flourish and a bow to his companion, "Here, my beauty, yellow roses to match your flaxen hair." The man reached into his pocket he withdrew two coins with which he paid Sophie, and then, arm in arm, he and his companion left.
Sophie bobbed a curtsey at their retreating figures as she watched the lovers make their way down the now quiet street. She sighed as she watched them go, then quickly added the coins to her purse and covered her flowers once more.
The wind chapped at her cheeks and lips as she continued her way down the street and repeated the pattern of coveting, offering, and selling her wares until her flower basket was lighter and her coin purse was heavy against her thigh.
The cafes emptied out and the gas lights were extinguished and then it began to gently snow. Big, fat, powdery flakes fell down and coated her shawl and eyelashes. The snow melted against her chapped lips and stung.
The sound of church bells rang out in the quiet evening air and Sophie counted to ten. It was finally time to head home to her cold bowl of stew and even colder bed. She winced as her foot slipped inside of her boot and a sore spot rubbed against a seam in the leather. She was exhausted and ready for sleep because she knew that she would need her rest. Tomorrow would simply be more of the same. It was always the same.
Eyes half-lidded and unaware of her surroundings she started to make her way home.
It was two blocks later when Sophie, in her half asleep state, realized that the sound that she had just heard was the sound of a foot falling slightly out of place with her own in the snow covered path. She jolted awake from her half asleep state with a sudden feeling of foreboding. Her stomach twisted into a knot as the hair stood up on the back of her neck. She turned to look behind herself and she could barely make out the figure of a man. He was a few blocks back, although it was difficult to really judge the distance in the haze of the darkened streets.
A chill that had nothing to do with the cold crawled down her spine .
Don't be stupid, she thought to herself. He was probably just a man heading home after a long day at work, the same as her. But Sophie wasn't convinced. Her instincts were urging her to run.
Sophie looked straight ahead as she hastened her pace. The steps behind her her quickened and did the same. Whenever she sped up her pace the figure behind her matched hers. When she slowed down, so did they. Sophie was no longer convinced that the person behind her was a harmless shop clerk or a tired waiter heading home to his bed after a long night at work.
Her fat coin purse landed heavily against her thigh and suddenly she was aware of how much of an easy target she might appear to be to a ruffian who did not know her. Never before had she been troubled by the local street gangs or thieves, but winter and starvation and rotgut gin brought out the worst in men and times were tough indeed ever since the fire at the opera house had taken away so many jobs. The poor houses were full to bursting lately and the prisons were not any better.
She passed the cobbler shop which had long since closed for the evening and suddenly she realized that she was already halfway home. Sophie also realized, with sudden clarity, that she was leading whoever was stalking her directly to her home. Thoughts of innocent little Emma sprang to mind. Sophie made her decision in that moment and without another thought.
Sophie ducked into the nearest alley and she ran down the now slippery cobblestones. Her footsteps were heavy and noisy in her panic and her heavy breathing filled the otherwise quiet alley. Her alarm turned to panic when she heard her pursuer following right behind and making just as much noise.
As she approached a crossway in the back alleys she made a split-second decision and timed her turn at the last possible second. Sophie tucked her basket hard into her side and made a sharp left turn instead of heading right. She backtracked the way that she had come as she headed towards the ruin of the Opera Populaire.
Minutes felt like decades as Sophie ran for her life. She zig zagged through the abandoned, quiet streets of Paris until even she felt almost lost in their maze. The charred ruins of the opera building and its wood covered windows and doors loomed before her. She hid in the shadows of a boarded up stone archway she watched and waited to see if her pursuer had emerged from the twisting alleyways. She pressed herself deeper into the shadows as she waited.
Her breath fogged before her in ragged gasps as she fought to catch her breath. Her ribs ached from exertion against the strain of her corset and heavy woolen skirts. She looked down cursed under her breath as she tucked the fabric tighter against her legs to hide them better in the shadows.
"Yo, do you see her?" a rough voice called out from not too far away. "She's a slippery one, eh? I'm gonna have some fun with this skirt for all the trouble that she's put us through tonight."
"Shh, you buffoon. I know she's here," the second voice said. "She tried to give us the slip but I'll sniff her out."
Sophie pressed herself even further into the cold marble behind her and she wondered if the beating of her heart sounded as loud to others as it felt inside of her chest.
Footsteps sounded closer as the men searched the area trying to ferret her out.
She squinted her eyes shut and prayed to a deity that she wasn't sure she really believed in as she tried to quiet her ragged breathing. The footsteps crunched closer and closer. Her eyes flew open to see the faint outlines of her footprints in the accumulating snow just as a face popped around the corner of the dark and started her.
"Hello, girlie," the ruffian said with a smile as he spotted her in her hiding place.
Sophie didn't even think about her actions. She swung her arm with all of her might and smashed her flower basket over the man's head and battered him away from her. He let out a sound of surprise as he was smashed into the marble wall.
"Oy!" he cried out as he fell and sprawled into the snow covered street.
Picking up her skirts to make her movements easier she fled away from him.
"I'm gonna give you a right knock in the head for that one, lovie," the gruff voice called out tauntingly behind her.
"For Christ's sake, what are you doing lying around for?" the second voice added. "Get up! God, do I have to do everything myself?"
Sophie didn't wait to hear the rest of their fight as she turned the corner. The voices trailed after her as she spotted a hole in one of the boarded up windows. It appeared as if the board that was covering the window had splintered in one of that winter's many ice storms. The opening was just big enough for a thing girl or child to squeeze through its narrow opening. Sophie attempted it. She would not have been able to outrun these two men forever. Hiding was her best choice, now. Her dress caught and ripped on a giant splinter of wood as she forced her way in. But she pulled and shoved herself through the crack in the wood until her foot landed on solid ground and she was through.
She was met with darkness as she tumbled into the opening of the smoky remains of the opera's foyer.
"Hurry up, she went inside," the voices called behind her. Sophie stumbled in the dark and nearly twisted her ankle as she tried to navigate the ruins of the abandoned opera house. She flinched when she heard the splintering of wood behind her. They were trying to widen the gap in the wood so that they could follow her.
She scrambled over fallen debris until she managed to find her way inside the opera house. She had never been inside of it before, but the layout seemed straightforward. There was a grand entry way with a staircase that led up to the upper seats. Moonbeams shone through the cracks in the boarded up windows and filled the foyer with light while at the same time they cast ominous shadows in her path. She reached out in front of her and felt her way like a blind woman. And then her hand found a wall and she almost cried in relief.
The path was littered with debris as Sophie took care with each step she made. She slid one foot in front of the other as she slowly made her way across the room to where she thought she saw the outline of a doorway. Her best chance was to find a place to hide for a few hours until these gruff men tired of the chase and abandoned her for an easier target.
Sophie flinched and had to force herself to keep inching across the floor as the sound of wood splintering behind her filled her ears. Quickening her pace Sophie followed the wall until she found a doorway, and as she went through it she found herself in the remains of the auditorium itself. In the pitch black of the windowless auditorium she crawled beneath a charred velvet seat and waited.
Time passed her by as Sophie fought against her exhaustion. She strained to hear for every sound that echoed in the once glorious music hall.
"Here… girlie girlie. We won't bite," one man taunted as the other snickered.
"We'll find you girlie… that's a promise. And you won't like it when when we do," the other voice added.
Their voices and footsteps echoed all throughout the room as the sounds bounced in the room's now distorted acoustics.
"No… not at all… won't like it one bit. We're gonna have our fun with you for all this trouble you've put us through."
Clamping her hand across her mouth to stifle her panicked breathing she cast her eyes into the dark as if she could see by sheer willpower. Their cruel voices echoed against the walls making her ears just as useless as her eyes.
A hand rustled in fabric and the sound of a match being struck filled her with with trepidation as suddenly a soft yellow glow flared to life beside her.
"Gotcha!" the man called as he snatched her by her hair.
"Good going!" the other one chortled. "I found a lamp backstage. There's oil in it still," he said as he took the matchbook from his companion and lit the lamp.
She screamed as she was pulled from her hiding place.
"What have we here? Why… look Charlie, I think I've caught myself a little mouse! All I wanted was your coin purse. But now I think I want a different sort of payment," the coarse man uttered.
The other man chuckled as Sophie screamed.
Her scalp was on fire as he tugged her hair until she felt like it would rip free from the skin at any moment.
"Let me go!" she screamed futilely. His grip hardened in her hair causing her to wince and scream again.
"Look, brother. The little mouse wants us to let her go. What do you say? Hmm? Should we let her free from our trap?"
The other man chuckled and replied, "bring here here with that light, first, let me see."
Sophie was marched painfully towards the stage by the fist which was wound deep in her hair. She winced with each step as he jostled her forward.
"Stop it," she called out with a sob. "Let me go. Please. You can have my purse, just let me go."
"Hmm…" the man holding her said in a cruel and playful manner, "I think not. You owe me for that knock against the head with that basket of yours."
She cringed as his hand slackened in her hair to instead grab her tightly by the arm as he marched her towards the stage.
"Bring her here already, you dolt," the other voice called from the stage. "I want to see our pretty little mouse."
The man behind her shoved her forward hard and she stumbled against the stairs that led up to the stage. A rough hand caught her and broke her momentum. Sophie was marched up the rickety steps until she was standing before the second man. The lamp was held aloft beside her face until the soft glow enveloped her and she felt its tiny heat against her skin.
The sound of her whimpers echoed throughout the once grand performance space.
"So," the man holding her began, "I'll go first. Seeing as how I'm the one who got hit in the head and all."
The other man chuckled and nodded in agreement as he jumped off of the stage and, with a flourish, made a show of dusting off a front row seat, and plopped down into the rickety velvet chair. He crossed his legs as a cruel grin split his face.
Sophie looked back at her attacker in dread.
"Please, monsieur…" she whimpered, "please… don't." She studied his face noting the crooked angle of a once-broken and now poorly-healed nose and the cleft in his chin. His mousy brown hair stuck out in uneven crops around his head as if the locks had been cut by a dull pocket knife.
He watched her assessment of him in amusement and called out in jest to his partner, "oh, I think she likes what she sees! Let's see what's under your skirts, then, huh? Maybe I'll like what I see? I don't think you're as innocent as you pretend."
He swung her around and grabbed her roughly from behind and held her flush against him. His arms cut into her and crushed her ribs.
The seated man chuckled from the audience below the stage as he leaned forward to get a better look. The man who was grasping sophie tightly started pawing roughly at her skirts.
"No!" she cried out as she stamped her foot and tried to kick at him behind herself.
He grunted with the effort of restraining her as he wrapped his arm even tighter around her. She felt the tear in her dress rip wider as he groped at her body. And then his hand was under her skirts and he was grabbing blindly at her calf as she tried to kick and buck him from her.
One hand was now freed in the shuffle. Sophie reached behind her and raked her long nails down her attackers face.
The man screamed in agony as her nails tore flesh and ripped a trail towards his once broken nose. She took advantage of his distraction to rear her head back and smash it into his face. Bones crunched as her head met his nose and his grip on her slackened. She whirled around to face him as she sprung back and away from him. Sophie watched the tiny rivulets of blood as it trickled down his nose and over his mouth and dripped onto the floor in front of them.
The man in the audience guffawed in glee and declared, "the little mouse is actually a hell cat in disguise! I'm so glad that you went first, brother."
"You stupid cunt!" the man on the stage screamed at her in rage. "Look at what you've done!" From his belt he grabbed a knife and brandished it before her. "I'll kill you now after I have my fun!"
Sophie felt rage coiling in her belly until the fear diminished and was gone. If they thought she'd be an easy target then they were sorely mistaken. She slid one foot back and curled her fingers into open fists at her side. "I'll claw your eyes out if you touch me again" she promised them fiercely.
A crack and whirring sounded from somewhere above as a heavy sack fell from the rigging and landed squarely on Sophie's attacker. He plummeted to the stage under it's weight and then was still. The knife clattered to the ground and Sophie rushed forward and grabbed for it.
Brandishing her new weapon she whirled to face the other attacker who had leapt from the velvet seats and was climbing the stage stairs towards her.
She looked between the two men, one chasing for her and the other eerily still on the floor, and she turned to flee instead of facing him.
Sophie made three great strides across the stage floor before the creaking, splintering, charred stage floor gave way and a hole opened up underneath her. She was swallowed up by darkness in the hole as she fell, and fell, and fell. Until the ground rose up to meet her and then she stopped with a sickening jolt and flash of pain.
A snap echoed out around her as a fierce stab of pain shot up her leg. She had landed poorly and now lay crumpled on the floor beneath the stage in agony. Stars burst behind her eyes as she felt her left leg grow hot. Her body felt as if it must be on fire. She tried to look at her leg to assess the manner and severity of injury but there was hardly any light down in the hole. Only a tiny beam of weak light streamed down from above. But it was enough for Sophie to see how far she'd fallen. She laid back against the cold, unforgiving floor as she whimpered in pain. Bile rose up in her throat but she forced herself to swallow it back down as she tried to focus on her ragged breathing. The fall had knocked the air from her lungs, but now that she'd recovered she took a deep, agonizing breath. She tried not to cry from the pain but felt the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes anyways.
Sophie wasn't sure how long she laid there in agony, but it was long enough that she felt her warmth as it leached out of her and into the stone floor. Her teeth began to chatter as she shivered. Her fingers were dull and useless as she tried to find the knife in the darkness. She searched the entire area that was within her limited reach, but it was to no avail. Her eyes fluttered shut as tears trickled down her cheeks. Thoughts of Emma and warm stew and freshly baked bread sitting out for her in front of a cozy fire flooded her mind. She felt the tears rolling down her face until eventually she didn't even have the strength to cry any longer.
Her breathing slowed as the fire in her leg decreased to a dull ache that twinged only if she moved. She counted to one hundred and then tested moving her left leg beneath her.
The pain flared to life, double what it had been before. It was agonizing. Her body was so very cold and yet on fire all at once. She cried out again and watched as stars burst behind her eyes from the pain until the shape of a glowing white mask floated towards her in the dark. Her vision grew dim around the edges until everything was swallowed by blackness.