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I had no Beta reader, so if there are some errors, please don't bite my head off for it, and I promise to have one for the next chapter.

Concrete Angel

Chapter One: No one knows what she's holding back

Two years after the Opera House incident

Christine is married to Raoul, but Raoul had gone off to train and fight in the war, leaving Christine to watch over the De'Changy household. She still wonders about her phantom's whereabouts, but does not know if he is even still alive.

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The night was cold and damp with snow that sent chilling shivers through out the body, from the inside out. Cutting through the darkness, the moon shone brightly over the forest casting the shadows from the tree down on the pure white ground, tainting it with its darkness. The eerie quiet was unsettling, and made those use to being surrounded by things that were loud soon found they were nervous and jittery in the awkwardness. The path was long for those who didn't have the money to ride to the resting place for the dead, and those who did walk did so in pairs, for there is safety in numbers. Though on this night, only one girl walked down the road, alone person wise, but she did have a large black dog by her side, to which she held on to as if her last line to the earth. In her other hand, she held a bouquet of dried roses and a small basket filled with something that was hidden from view.

The small girl kept her focus on what was ahead, the dog walked leisurely at her side, not even moving to chaise a squirrel down the road. Nothing seemed to affect this child, not the night, or the cold, or the silence. A soft whimper came from next to her as the dog noticed that they came upon the cemetery, and the girl made a comforting sound to the large dog. She released her grip from his collar and ran her small hand through his thick fur. The beast, as she called him, sat down on the cold ground, and the girl began to walk alone, counting every one of her paces. Forty paces foreword, turn right, seventeen paces, and then turn left and one pace up. That's how she had to remember it; everything was numbers and memories to her. Kneeling down her hand reached out to the cold stone in front of her, running over the familiar engravings.

Marie Anne O'Mallory

Dearest Sister

Next to the grave, on the right:

Morgan O'Mallory,

Father and Husband,

to the left:

Jean O'Mallory,

Mother and Wife.

None of them had dates, or fancy borders, smooth marble, or pictures. They were just stones with small plaques embedded in them. With gentle hands she swept was the petal-less stems of the old flowers and placed down the new pairs of dried roses by each of the graves, then set down the basket. She heard Beast barking loudly, and the wound of wheels creaking, horses neighing and chains jingling. The child froze up, her mind fighting with the date, what was the date? She couldn't remember. Her ears picked up a soft female voice telling the carriage to wait until she returned, and then seemed to mention something about Beast.

The child stood up carefully, leaving her basket for a second, her eyes scanned around but saw nothing but black darkness. The girl turned around quickly to face away from the three graves and clutched her hands to her chest as she heard Beast running over to find her, and the soft patter of light foot steps behind him.

"Where are you leading me to, you silly dog?" The child heard the voice say before she could feel eyes upon her. "Oh..."The woman said softly upon laying eyes on the girl. "Oh dear, what are you doing out here so late Molly?"

The little girl's eyes widened slightly. Now she remembered what day it was. It was the one day in the year when Christine Daae came to visit the Daae tomb; it relatively coincided with Molly's day when she visited her family's graves. Molly said nothing in return, but tilted her head downward.

Christine walked over to Molly knelt down before her, lifting up her chin lightly with two fingers. The child didn't need much persuasion to lift her head, her gaze looked intently right past Christine in a way so odd that there could only be to reasons: Molly couldn't see here, or something stood behind her. Christine first checked behind her shoulder to see nothing but the black figure of Beast sitting at the end of the walk way. Christine waved her hand slightly in front of Molly's eyes, and found no reaction from the small girl. She frowned slightly, no movement of her eyes to even follow the hand. Is this girl blind? No, she couldn't be, she gets around too well. Christine thought to herself.

"Molly...you can't just leave the orphanage like that." Christine chided the little child, who looked no older than eight or nine years old. Molly made a sharp gasp and turned her head in the direction of a concrete angel, shaking a bit nervously. Molly could hear something flapping in the wind, but it was something Christine couldn't hear. "Are you listening to me?"

The girl took a step back from the woman, and turned her attention back to Christine. "I-I always listen." She said meekly. Christine now was able to get a good look at Molly as the moon crept out from behind the clouds. The small girl had a full head of red curls that came down to around the middle of her neck, bright green eyes, hazed over as if she was in fog. Her pale skin was dirty from walking in the forest; small scars covered her arms from being misguided and running into things habitually. Her hands bleed slightly from the roses she had carried to the cemetery. Once again her head turned sharply away and toward the stone angel.

"Molly?" Christine sighed and stood up; wondering what had the young girl all jittery. "Molly stay here, I'll take you home after I'm done here." The girl's attention did not shift back to Christine, but she knew the girl had heard her. Christine moved away from the child and started to walk towards the Daae tomb to pay her respects. Beast whimpered a little to see her go, but knew he must stay be his owner. Christine turned around too look back at Molly; she noted that she wasn't looking at the statue, but right past it. That's odd Christine thought and then went on her way.

Molly was left alone again, but she knew she wasn't alone. She could hear Beast padding toward her, his low and quick breathing easy to catch, but off in the distance she could hear another low breathing, slow and soft, ghostly almost, but Molly wouldn't know the comparison, for she has not met any ghosts. A soft flapping sound caught her attention again, she knew that with loss of sight, everything else grew in ability, but sometimes she regretted it.

"Beast, come." She said softly, holding out her hand toward the dog, expecting to feel the top of his head, neck, and then his collar. Molly felt none of that, she only a soft whimpering, which she found odd. Then the flapping sound again, her small mind began to race, but she still held her hand out. Something soft...leather...touched her hand, cold soft leather, like father's gloves.

"Molly..." Said a soft dark voice, melodious in ever sense of the word. It was if it was a silent question, he needed just to say, 'do your remember me?'. Molly's small heart quickened its pace, this voice and touch, so much like her fathers. Her mind raced, hating not able to have sight when it was most needed. Then she froze, and there came a small spot of recognition, the voice was too dark to be father, and father was dead, so surely it wasn't...

"No..." The child mustered softly and pulled her hand away gently. "You are not my father..." There was not hint of an Irish accent in her voice to match her glossy Irish eyes. A malicious laugh, soft but evil, came after that, and yet through all this, her loyal dog had not come and helped her out of this odd situation, and with a complete stranger. Beast, where are you? He mind asked.

"That's quite right, little O'Mallory, I am not your father, nor your mother or sister, but you almost couldn't tell could you child?" After her nervousness died down and she regained her calm-ness, the small child reached out and was able to grab hold of the person in front of her. With the easiest of touch, she could tell that it was a evening waist coat, she had touched many before when she'd run into people with what she could hear as easy money targets, those with purses on the outside of the coats or hanging off their arm.

Molly then yelped and flung herself away from the man. "It's you!" She piped. That voice, and touch and attitude, she had heard it once before, and it was the last time Christine Daae hade been here as well, but it never seemed to bother her. In panic she stepped backwards, slipping on some ice, and cried out loud. Before she fell, she could hear loud barking, and a soft voice, and once again the sound of flapping. Then with a crack, everything went silent.