Author's note: As always, I neither own Phantom of the Opera in any way, shape, or form sigh, nor do I own the song "Silent Scream" by Richard Marx.

I hope y'all enjoy this chapter.

I'm sorry if it's running a bit slow, but I'd just like everything to be explained and for the plot to really take off (which it will start to in this chapter, I promise).

Also I'd like to say, I'm sorry if this is considered to be a "Mary-Sue".

Wait...I'm not sorry.

You see, with all the "restrictions" and whatnot about what is and isn't a "Mary-Sue", how can anyone expect a phic writer to creat any kind of original story?

If we didn't make up our own stories for the original, then places like wouldn't exist, now would they?

Well, anyways, this is dedicated to Harry: hope to see you again soon, mi amore. :-)

Chapter 2 Christine

"Roy called and told me about what you did at school today," My mother said angrily as soon as I walked in the front door. "That was one of the dumbest stunts you've ever pulled!" She yelled before I even had time to reply in my defense.

Though, maybe that was for the best. I didn't really know how to defend myself, anyway. I'll admit now that what I did that day was stupid and irrational, but at the time, I couldn't have cared less.

My mom was furious though. She just sat on the couch glaring at me, until I shrugged my shoulders questioningly, almost sarcastically and said, "It wasn't really that bad."

Of course, that just angered her more.

"I have nothing to say to you...Just wait upstairs until Roy gets home, I'll let him deal with you," she sighed, giving up after a long stretch of silence.

I had gotten off easy as far as my mother was concerned. For some reason, she didn't seem as pissed off as I thought she was going to be. I thought there would be hell to pay from her, actually. She may not have been Mother of the Year material, but that didint' mean she wasn't strict.

But I wasn't out of trouble just yet. She was leaving the punishment decision to Roy, and God only knew what was going on in his mind, especially after the way I acted in his office...

"I'm not mad at you," he said without hesitation once he had gotten back from work.

"What?!" I demanded, sounding more surprised that I had meant to. I actually meant to sound sarcastic, but, obviously, it didn't turn out that way.

"I won't ask you to justify what you did earlier, and God only knows what goes on in that head of yours," he hesitated before he said, "but I think I have a solution to this...rebellion of yours."

"Rebellion," I scoffed, though I was somewhat intrigued. "Fine, I'm listening," I said after a moment of awkward silence.

"Your mother and I spoke to your aunt Barbara in France, and we spoke to the school," he hesitated then continued, "There's a summer program...almost like an internship...How do you feel about spending this summer with your aunt in France?"

"Wait...what does this have to do with my school?" I asked, getting really confused.

"Well, there's a music and dancing program at the Opera Garnier, for graduates with an interest in a career in theater, like yourself, and the music class you're in is offering a free ride to the most exceptional students. And despite the way you acted in that class today, you fit in with the exceptional category. I think you'd do just fine there," Roy continued, but nothing he was saying was making any sense.

"What? I don't get it..."

"To keep you out of trouble until you're eighteen, you mom and I think it would be best if you got out of here. We figured it would be best if your aunt kept an eye on you, and if you had something constructive to do with your time, like singing and dancing with the other chorus girls. What do you think?" Roy asked.

"Let me get this straight," I started, "You're going to throw me on a plane to France for the summer, make me stay under the dictatorship of Barbara, and force me to perform like a marionette at some theater?"

"No, you're putting words in my mouth," Roy said, beginning to get frustrated, "You're going to have the option of staying in the dormitories at the Opera House, or staying with Barbara. What you do with your time is entirely up to you, but we all would like it if you stayed out of trouble and made an effort to perform."

It was beginning to make some sense, and my mind tried to rationalize what he was saying.

"Alright, so I go to France, I get to stay wherever I want-"

"-Within reason," Roy added, interrupting.

"Within reason," I echoed, "And I'll get to choose whether I goof off or perform?"

"Basically...though for the most part, I think they'd like you to participate, you know, for the good of the show."

"Alright, tell me more."

We sat in the living room of our cabin for nearly and hour, and, to my surprise, we didn't once raise our voices. Basically what was going on was that my school had a summer program for the performing arts department students that were graduating that year. My mom and Roy decided, without my knowledge or consent, that it would be best for me, for whatever reason, to go in the program, stay either in the Opera Garnier dormitories or with my aunt Barbara, and perform one or two shows with the chorus girls. And as confusing and frustrating as the whole thought was at first, I was beginning to actually get excited.

The whole idea of having to spend yet another boring and meaningless summer in this town, with nothing better to do but get in trouble, completely sickened me. I hated it there, with a passion.

Plus, I hadn't been to France since I was ten, visiting my aunt, and since the Opera Garnier was located in Paris, as was my aunt, it seemed pretty convenient for the fact that I was probably going to stay with Barbara, just for the hell of it.

Though, there was some anxiety building up in me. What if I screwed something up? What if I sucked at performing? The only experience I'd had was in school plays, and though I enjoyed it and was good at singing, this was a whole new arena. Then, what if something went wrong? I didn't want to think about it further.

So many ominous scenarios played in my head of all the possibilities of failure, rejection, unhappiness, the list went on and on. After an entire evening of considering my options and thinking about what I wanted to do, I finally gave up. I had to decide whether I wanted to go at all or not, and I was under a lot of pressure coming up with the answer that I thought would be right.

After a deathly silent diner, I went upstairs to my room and sat in the dark, still trying to think. The only thing I had really achieved was giving myself a headache from the stress. Why was it such a hard decision? I knew I wanted to get off of that mountain, I knew I wanted a change for the better, but in the back of my mind...something held me back.

Unfortunately, instead of coming up with a decision, I just kept drifting into flashbacks of when I was younger; of a time when childhood simplicity meant litttle to nothing anymore.

A memory, age fourteen

Sarah and I walked to the Circle K, located a rather large distance from her house. It was late at night, pitch black, except for the moon and the headlights of the cars passing on the road ahead of us, but I always felt safe when I was with her. She was older than me, and I looked up to her like an older sister. Hell, she basically was my sister.

The pine trees made eerie shadows over the ground of the forest that was known as Eighty Acres until we came to the nearly bare field, which meant we were almost there. The only light to guide us through the forest was the soft glow of the full moon, but it was plenty of light for us. All we really wanted to do was get out of the house for a while, talk, and maybe do something exciting...

We ran like hell to cross the busy street to get to the mini-mart. Once we were in the parking lot, Sarah grabbed my shoulder for me to stop.

"I don't have any money, do you?" She asked severely, but with that look in her eye that I recognized all too well. I already knew what she was thinking.

"No...what are we gonna do?"

She looked down at her hand in her pocket meaningfully.

I just laughed, 'Yeah, you wanted to smoke, too, right? How are we gonna get a pack of cigarettes out of there without them noticing?"

"Just follow me." Sarah answered, and we walked into the store, laughing and talking like nothing was wrong.

We shoved the Camel cigarettes into our deep jacket pockets, then coolly walked to the candy section and repeated the process, deciding that we had the munchies as well. We both knew it was wrong, but it had never stopped us before.

Just before we walked out of the store, the clerk gave us a very suspicious look. She knew we were up to something.

"What's in your pockets?" She asked suddenly.

We didn't answer...we didn't look back. We just ran like hell, not even checking both ways before we fled across the street. I don't even know how we didn't get killed.

That poor clerk didn't even know what hit her...I don't even think she bothered calling police, thankfully. To this day I'm not even sure why.

Sarah and I walked slowly across the field which led to the forest which then led to her house once we were safely away from the store and the street.

"Cigarette, please," She said, and I handed her the pack of Camels. She took hers, then handed the pack back to me and I took one for myself. Taking a match from her pocket, she lit her cigarette and then lit mine.

"Sure, you always have a light ready, but never anything to light up," I scoffed.

I took a long, deep drag and immediately felt the dizzying effects of the nicotine. I loved it. I loved trying to walk once my mind became clouded, I loved trying to talk and concentrate on not choking. Mostly, I loved forgetting everything else.

But, of course, eventually the nicotine had little effect and I wanted something stronger to feel the release again. No wonder then call nicotine a "gateway drug".

Had I known that the smoking, as well as the shoplifting, would be the start of a long succession of bad decisions and ignorant choices, I wouldn't have done any of it. Looking back, I still don't know why I did it in the first place. I can't necessarily pinpoint any specific trigger. No one made me...but no one stopped me either, and I just couldn't stop on my own.

Somehow, I didn't want to.

I opened my eyes. I realized that I had fallen asleep, but nothing about what I had just seen was any kind of dream, simply a memory coming alive again.

I suddenly realized that it was so hard to make the decision to go to France because I had made so many other horribly wrong decisions in my life...

I was afraid.

But a stupid choice wouldn't have been anything new. I guess I had terrible judgment, and I was finally realizing that I had to think things through better. A lot better.

The next morning, a Saturday, I woke up at seven o'clock. I was always a morning person, so that wasn't a rare thing for me to be awake so early on a Saturday.

At last, to my own relief, I had come to a decision.

I don't know what possessed me that morning to cook breakfast for everyone, but as I stood in front of the stove, I tried to make casual conversation with my mom, leading up to what I had really wanted to say.

"Did you know they're having a big dance after graduation?" I asked my mom suddenly.

"Yes, Roy has to chaperone, he wants me to help," she answered, laughing.

"Oh, lovely..."

We both laughed, then the room fell into an awkward silence.

"I want to go," I said suddenly.

"To the dance?" My mom asked, confused by my sudden statement.

"No...to France for that program," I replied softly.

I don't know why it was so hard to tell her. Maybe because, even after all of the bad experiences we've been through, she was still my mother.

"I think you're making a very wise choice," she smiled, and as Roy came down for breakfast, I felt a great relief. I was finally getting a chance at something, no matter how seemingly unimportant.

All we had to deal with now among all the little travel details was my graduation and the fact that I was deathly afraid of flying.