I live in Paris, France and the year is 1881. My name is Hazel and I am currently thing that you should know about me: I am mute and have been mute since I was 9 years old after the accident. Before, I took singing lessons from my mother, Rosa, and piano lessons from my father, Edwin. Mother and father both agreed my voice could be compared to an angel's. Life back then was very good. Lessons were taught every night, me chasing leaves that blew in the wind, and most of all, hearing the great singers at the opera house.

One fine summer day, my parents took me to a party in town when we used to live at the edge of Paris. The party was very nice and had many people. We were very rich and had many connections within the great city. Ladies and their men spun around the ballroom stepping in time with the music. I laughed as my dad picked me up and started dancing with me. He was spinning me around and saying "You dance very fine, Hazel."

When the music stopped he sat me down and was about to give me a hug... Bang! Bang! Bang! Gunshots rang in my ears as I ran in fear to a table piled with food. I hid underneath and listened to some very masculine voices shouting at the party goers. Father's voice stood out from the rest and I knew he was doing something he would regret.

"How dare you come here and ruin this grand festivity! This is very lowly of you, peasants..." he said in disgust. Bang! Mother screamed and ran over to his body; she began crying.

"Why do this? Who are you?" she questioned.

"Madame, we do this to teach you filthy rich people that we mean business. Your husband was a good friend of mine until he lost a bet against me. He was supposed to hand over all his fortune to me when he lost but instead, he decided to put it off until never! Never mind who we are, but people will remember who you were!" Bang!

I wasn't going to cry, for it would only make things worse. After I was sure the bad men had left I crawled out from underneath the table. Blood soaked my dress as I walked over to where father and mother lay. Oh, this can't be happening! Both of my parents were dead and I had only one place to go: my mother's dear friend, Madame Giry. She worked at the Opera Populaire in town. There was some excitement of going there to train as a ballerina, but it quickly vanished when police men came running in.

"Get the girl out of here." one of them commanded. The man that was directed at me, walked over and knelt down to eye level.

"Did your parents get shot?" I nodded.

"Do you have somebody to stay with?" I nodded. "Who is it and where does he or she live?" I walked over to the doors and pointed at the opera house. Then I did a ballet move that I had seen mother doing just for fun. "Okay then miss, let's get you over there." he said. Quietly, we made our way to the beautiful Opera Populaire.

...

I watched her walk through the front doors and into the main hall of the opera house. Who is this little girl and why is her dress covered in blood? The police officer walked her to the manager's door and knocked. After a little bit, he opened the door and allowed the two to enter. Quietly, I listened to the conversation through the secret tunnel in the wall.

"This is Hazel Harris. Her parents have been murdered today and she has told me that there is somebody here that can care for her." the officer said. "Oh and this person has to do with ballet."

"Well then, I will send for Madame Giry." Lefèvre said. The door opened and he sent for the ballet instructor. When she came he said "Ah, Madame, this is Hazel Harris. Do you know her or who her parents are?"

"I do monsieur. Her mother and I are good friends. Why do you ask?" she said. Lefèvre explained what happened. "Hazel, I will take care of you. Don't worry about a thing. Do you wish to train as a ballerina?" I wish I could see what was going on! Why isn't Hazel speaking? "Good then. Follow me, dear." Giry said.

I followed them through the opera house. They stopped for a while and stood on the stage. Giry looked up at me and nodded. "Why don't you get used to the stage while I go get a room prepared for you." she asked. Hazel plainly nodded. When the teacher left, I called out to the girl.

Wandering child so lost; so helpless.

Yearning for my guidance.

She jumped and looked around, but still was very quiet. Who am I kidding? She still is in shock from her parents being dead and all. I made myself be seen by her. When she saw me she smiled at me and continued to wait. This girl is very strange. She has no idea who I am! Giry returned and asked her what I had wanted to ask. "Hazel, you have to speak. Don't let your parent's death bring your beautiful voice into despair."

"I... I..." Hazel didn't finish. All she did was look at her feet.

...

Those were the last words I spoke. For the rest of those days, I trained as a ballerina. There wasn't a single minute I didn't spend thinking of the masked man who I soon learned to be the Opera Ghost. Why did he show himself to me? The other ballet girls made fun of me for my silent ways, but some didn't. I made friends with Meg Giry, Madame Giry's daughter, and Christine Da`ae. They spoke to me and I would listen.

I longed to speak, but was scared to do so. When I was in my room all alone, I would try to talk. That didn't turn out so good in the end, so I gave up. The only way that I could express myself, was dancing and playing the piano. On days I had off from dancing, I would go find a room that had a single piano in it and play. There was something about the way I played that intrigued and scared Christine, but that was before she ran off with Raoul de` Changy.