Finally the next chapter. Just a reminder, words in italics are thoughts.
Disclaimer: I don't know what this means, but I don't own a lot just some clothes, books, a few socks and the stuff my parents gave me. That's about it. So I deffiantly don't own this
Finding Hope
She awoke to a damp, musty smell. He foot throbbed and her head ached, but something beyond that was wrong. Then it hit her This isn't my home. She shot up so fast from bed that he almost broke her arm when he stopped her. She looked at him; he had a white mask covering half his face. He had on an old shirt with ruffles, like something you would were in the 1900s. Oh My God this cannot be. The phantom of the opera lived like a million years ago, that is if he ever did live. I have to be dreaming, wake up, WAKE UP.
He had an annoyed look on his face as he pushed her back down. "How do you know my name?" Wow this guy doesn't waste anytime, she thought as she stared at him blankly. "Answer Me," he replied, now slightly more annoyed.
"Hold on one second, who are you, first of all? How did I get here? Why am I here? And why are you dressed like the Phantom of the Opera?" She would not bring herself to realize this man as the actual Phantom of the Opera, How could she time travel.
"I am dressed like the Phantom of the Opera because I am him. Firstly and secondly, I asked you first, How do you know my name?" he watched her eyes as they grew and she placed a hand to her forehead.
"Oh My God, Oh My God, OH MY GOD! How did I get here, why am I here, what am I going to do…." He watched her pace as she rattled off question after question to herself. Him getting quite annoyed with all that noise placed a strong hand over her mouth.
"Would you please relax? I have no time for this tell me how you know my name or I will be forced to make sure that you never speak to anyone ever again. Now answer my question, how do you know my name?"
"Like any good fan I know your name. Believe me, but know can you answer my questions?"
"No, what do you mean by fan?" She stared at him and took a deep breath.
"In my time, you're a fictional character. There are books, a musical, and many movies about you."
"What are movies and what do you mean by your time?"
"Ahh, how do I describe movies? There like moving pictures and there are people who act in the movies and play out different characters. Its like a play but not with real people in front of you, instead it's a picture. And what I mean by my time is that seeing as how you are real, I'm guessing this isn't 2005."
"No, it's not but how did you get here?"
"I have no idea, I was running and then everything blacked out and I don't remember anything after that." She looked at him as if to say, fill me in from there please.
"You fainted, right after saying my name, you were calling some one named David."
She crinkled her nose with a look of disgust. "Ah, yes, David." She spat his name out with such anger she looked like a soldier ready for battle. There was an awkward silence until she spoke again, "Wait…I fainted." He shook his head and she gave another look of disgust. "Ewww, I fainted."
"I'm guessing you don't like this David character." He said to her raising and eyebrow.
"He was my supposed love of my life," she said imitating a foolish girl in love, "but then he tried to rape me behind a tree, and that ended that." He felt like saying I know how that feels but refrained.
"Are you okay?" he said, surprised by his sudden compassion for this girl. By the look on her face, so was she.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Can I ask you what the date is?"
"It's the 17th of December." She looked at him as if to say and… "The year is 1897." She groaned and dropped her head in her hands. He couldn't help but laugh at her.
"Hey, it's not funny. I have no idea how I got here, how I'm gonna get back, how I got from the middle of the woods to here," she said gesturing with her hands around his lair, "and I have no idea where I'm going to stay." She stated this all half yelling at him and he could tell she was cracking under the pressure. He laughed at her again and she gave him a dirty stare.
"Well, you're welcome to stay here, that is, if you follow my rules and answer my questions." He was shocked that he had just offered this woman to stay in his home. He hadn't had any interaction with a woman, besides Madame Giry, since Christine. His face saddened as he thought of her. How he had hopped this past year that she would return. She raised an eyebrow at him.
"There are a couple of things you should know about me. One, I can't possibly intrude on you any longer; seeming as there are no cars you probably carried me here. Two, I'm not all that good at following rules and you'll probably end up killing me within a few hours." She gave him a weak smile as to say, don't kill me for opening my mouth I just want to be friends.
"You can stay here." Yet again he shocked himself, first he offers and then he insists. "But I do believe it's fair that you first tell me your name."
"Oh, terribly sorry. My names Cecelia, but you can call me Celia."
He nodded at her, "and where are you from?" he had noticed she had a strange accent, nothing like his French one. And although she spoke English it was without an accent.
"I'm from New York; I used to teach a music class there."
"You teach? But…but your very young?"
"I'm not that young, I'm 27. I can teach." He laughed at her a little; she seemed to have a short temper like him. This could be a problem.
"Well than, Mademoiselle Celia, I do believe we have a lot to talk about."
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