Here is the rewrite of Chapter 2 as of June 2019! If you don't know yet I am rewriting the chapters and posting them onto Archive of our Own, then updating them here. Let me know what you think of the rewrite if you have read this story before!


I groan as I begin to come to. My head is pounding as I try to pry my eyes open. Everything is blurry, and then crystal clear, then blurry again. I hiss in pain and try to move, but it feels as if my whole body is on pause and I can't so much as move my arm before my vision blurs and head spins, causing me to feel nauseous. I can feel that I am lying on the ground, but I can't tell much else about where I am or if I am even close to where my car is.

Huh. I think to myself. The ground is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I move my hand around to feel beneath me and my brows furrow in confusion. It's hardwood floor. Why am I on a hardwood floor? Shouldn't I be on the grass or in my car? Did someone bring be inside of a building as we wait for an ambulance? Where's Emily?

Then I heard someone yelling, and I try to move to see who it is, but I can't. I can't move at all unless I want to vomit. I can feel someone running, their footsteps vibrating off the floor. I turned my head slightly as someone knelt down next to me but I couldn't pinpoint who it was, my vision was so blurry. I felt their hand on my shoulder and they shook me slightly. My head flared and I whimpered in pain.

"Mademoiselle? Are you alright?" It was a woman, with a really strong french accent. I weakly opened my mouth to reply, but all that came out was a squeak. I felt the grip on me tighten and my head began to swirl again.

"Oh gosh, somebody get a doctor!" the voice shouted, then turned back to me with a calm voice, or at least as calm as they could get, "It will be okay mademoiselle," she assured me, "Help is coming." At this I could hear people shouting and more feet pounding on the floor, coming closer to the two of us.

"What happened?" asked a voice, a man this time, and I could feel him plop down next to us, a hand touching my other arm.

"I'm not sure, I didn't see," said the woman, "But my ballerinas did, they tell me she fell from the rafters."

I whimpered in confusion. Ballerinas? Fell? From some rafters? No, I was in a car accident! I wanted to say. There was a drunk driver! Where's Emily?

Then everything went dark again.

XxX

"How is she doing?"

"Well, she's got a concussion, but that's about it. I'm surprised. She took a pretty big fall. Do you know why she was on the rafters?"

"No, monsieur. I didn't even see her fall. No one even saw her get up there. It's like she came out of nowhere."

"I see. Well, send a message if you ever need me again."

"I will."

I slowly opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling, my head pounding but not as hard as before and I could finally see and move again. I was lying on a small bed with plain, white sheets covering me. I slowly turned my head to the right and looked at the woman that was sitting next to me, who was reading a book. Her long hair was braided and rested over her shoulder, and she wore a black dress. A cane rested against the table next to the bed. On the table was a bowl and a pitcher of water with a rag. A small tin cup sat next to it. I squinted my eyes, wondering if I was going insane. The woman looked just like Madame Giry, from The Phantom of the Opera, the 2004 version.

The one I saw last night. I thought to myself. The one I saw with Emily. Just before the crash. Where am I?

The woman glanced up at me, then did a double take. She sighed softly and closed her book, setting it down on the table.

"I see that you are awake," she said as grabbed at her cane, holding it in her hand as she sat.

I opened my mouth to reply, but I had nothing to say. I was stunned. Confused. Scared. I didn't know where to start. So I closed my mouth.

"Can you tell me you're name?" she questioned.

"S-Scarlet. Scarlet Moore." I whispered, not trusting my voice.

"My name is Antoinette Giry, but you can just call me Madame Giry. Earlier today you seamed to have fallen from our rafters and have gotten injured from the fall. Can you tell me why you were up there, and why you were in the Opera House in the first place?"

Opera House? Tears came to my eyes and I shook my head, "I- I don't know." I stuttered, "I-I can't r-remember. Whe-Where am I?"

She squinted at me, but answered my question, "You are at the Opera Populaire. In Paris, France."

"What year is it?"

"1870." she said it like it was an obvious answer, looking at me like my head was hanging off my shoulders. Her response caused me to tremble.

"Sorry," I mumbled, looking away, "I must have forgotten."

Madame Giry stood up with an exasperated sigh, "The doctor said that you could have slight amnesia from the fall. You have a concussion and will need rest before you head home."

"I... don't think I have a home. At least I can't remember." I said, twisting the sheets in my hands.

Madame Giry nodded, "Well, until you can remember you can stay here at the Opera House. Perhaps we can secure a job for you until you regain your memory. Is there anything that I can get you, Mademoiselle Moore? Some food perhaps?"

"Can I have some water?" I asked meekly, "Please?" My head was beginning to spin again and my eyes darted around the room nervously.

"Of course," she said, setting her cane against the table, grabbing the tin cup and picture of water. I took a look around as she poured me a glass, noticing that I was in a room with wooden walls. There was a window in front of me and a desk underneath it with boxes of medical supplies resting on it. A wooden door was to my right. To my left was a small closet and next to it was another small door. Decorating the ceiling was a small, brass chandelier but instead of light bulbs there were unlit candles.

Madame Giry reached out to hand me the cup, drawing my attention. I sat up slowly, my head beginning to swirl, yet I took the cup from her hands as I took deep breaths.

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?" she asked as I took a small sip, swirling the water around before I swallowed. My head began to clear and I sighed in relief.

"I'm sure." I mumbled, then downed the rest of the cup. Madame Giry reached out and took the cup from my hands, setting it back down onto the table.

"Now, I'm afraid I have to leave, for I have some business to attend to," she said, grabbing her cane from it's resting place and tapping it on the floor, "Do not leave this room without me, the Opera Populaire is large and you could get lost quickly. I advise you to stay in bed so you can heal. In the mornings I will bring you breakfast and in the evenings I will bring you dinner until we are certain that you can leave this room on your own, or until someone comes for you," she then grabbed her book and turned away, heading towards the door, "Goodbye for now. I will be back with your dinner in a couple of hours. Get some rest."

"Wait," I called out. She turned to look at me.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Was there another girl with me? With blond hair?"

Madame Giry looked confused and shook her head, "No, I'm afraid not. You were the only one up there. Do you remember their name?"

I blinked, "N-No. I don't. Sorry."

Madame Giry's face fell in disappointment, "Of course. Get some rest."

I sighed, but nodded in understanding as she left the room, staring at the wall in front of me.

"I've gone back in time," I whispered to myself, "I've gone back in time, of some sort, and have found myself in The Phantom of the Opera movie. Or maybe I'm dreaming and hallucinating everything," I closed my eyes, "I'm just hopped up on pain meds. I'm really just at a hospital, or it's an elaborate prank... or I'm dead," I shook that last thought away from me, "No, I'm not dead. Maybe. I'm sure I'm just dreaming. And when I open my eyes I'll be in a hospital bed. A real one. In my own time." I took a deep breath, feeling the sheets under my fingers, "This is all just one big hallucination."

I opened my eyes with a snap, and glanced around the room. My heart fell to the floor when I saw that I was in the same room that I woke up in. Same bed. Same brass chandelier. Same tin cup sitting next to me on the bedside table. I glanced down at the sheets and felt them in my hands, the threads rough against my fingers.

"It's not a dream." I whispered to myself in defeat, "I really am in the Phantom of the Opera. Madame Giry exists, Meg Giry exists, Christine Daae exists," I paled, "The freakin' Phantom exists, too, probably."

I turned to look at the door, my brown furrowing into determination, "I may be in a movie, but I can fend for myself," I told myself, "No matter what injuries I have." I sat there in silence for a moment, then slowly threw the sheets off of me. I slid my legs off the bed and placed my feet onto the floor, took a slow and deep breath then stood up. My vision swirled and my head spun like a top. I groaned and collapsed back down onto the bed, quickly covering myself with the sheets.

I took deep, shaking breaths as I held my head in my hands. My toes curled as pain and nausea racked through me. Soon, the pain passed and I sighed in relief, relaxing in the bed.

"What am I going to do?" I asked myself, "I'm going to die here. Probably by the hands of the Phantom if I'm not careful." I groaned and turned over in the bed and closed my eyes.

"I want to go home."


Thank you guys for reading! I hope you guys liked the chapter! Scarlet has found herself in a little situation, hasn't she? Don't worry, she'll make soem friends soon ;)

Please review!