A/N: Sorry for the longish update. Thank you to all who followed/ favorite my story! It means a lot to me. Special shout out to Master Tigeress and sfuller1015 for reviewing! Please review people! You know who you are. :)

Two years have passed since that day, the day that forever marred my innocent, childish mind. Eleven years old, on the verge of turning twelve, and I still felt as lost as I had that day. Madame Mesquine had become fed up with what she calls "my moping" and had decided that I was now old enough to get a job working elsewhere. I had begged her not to make me leave the orphanage but she was adamant about her decision. I felt devastated. The orphanage might not be my home but it was the place that I had been living for the last two years. I was actually starting to feel comfortable in my room but now I was to be thrust into a different place again.

Another reason, I felt so devastated about leaving the orphanage was that I would miss Christine terribly. The little blond with arms full of bread had quickly become my only friend in this desolate place. I had found out that Christine was two years younger than me but she acted like an old soul. From time to time her curious, mischievous inner-child would push itself out and she would do something that would get her in trouble, which would end with her stuck in her room without supper, but she always was prepared for that punishment. One of the best things about Christine was that she would comfort me when my grief would leave me bed-ridden. I hated those times. I felt like an invalid, although Christine would help me realize that it was a natural part of the grieving process. I connected with her because she too had just recently lost a parent. Her mother had died just after Christine was born and her father had died from an illness when she was seven. She had been in the orphanage for about eight months before I arrived. We took turns comforting each other and sometimes just ended up crying in each others' arms. When we weren't grieving, we would run around the house making up creepy stories about past residents or we would play in the yard, when the weather permitted it. But our favorite past time was telling each other stories about our childhood before we ended up in the orphanage. She would tell me stories of her travels throughout Europe with her father as they played beautiful music in fairs or on the streets, or stories of the magnificent Angel of Music. And I would tell her stories of my native country, Persia. That was usually how we wound up crying in each others' arms but it was so nice to be able to share beautiful memories with someone. When I would tell Christine about my past, I was not sad. It was when I stopped living in those moments when depression would creep its way back into my mind.

Sometimes when the pain of that day would keep me up at night, Christine would use her beautiful, sweet voice to lull me to sleep. Her voice brought a sweet sensation to the ears as a rose does the nose. I wished I could do the same for her when she couldn't sleep but I was not cut out for singing. My singing voice was the equivalent of the screeches of a cat that had been accidentally kicked. She didn't seem to mind but I still felt terrible. I would use my own method to lull her into slumber. I would tell the most outrageous stories I could think of, like the monster under the bed only wanted to be invited to a tea party and eat the delicious treats or that Cinderella purposefully broke the second shoe because she realized that the prince was shallow and vain and would rather spend the rest of her life cleaning up after her step family than be married to him. She would always giggle and laugh at these stories which made me happy because I knew she was happy. I hoped that she would dream of the tales instead of her dead father but I knew that it didn't always help. Sometimes nothing helps and she would suffer from a sleepless night. I knew the feeling well and I hated that she had to suffer from the same ailment. She was so innocent. She deserved to live a peaceful, quiet life with a husband who would always care for her and not ask anything of her. I hoped that one day she would end up with that life.

I would miss Christine terribly once I left. I hated that I would have to leave behind yet another part of my life in order to grow up. Madame Mesquine had started to search for a job for me about a month ago. I was relieved that she still hadn't found work for me but I dreaded the passing of each day because I knew that each day brought me closer to the time when I would have to leave. It made me sad to think that Christine would be lonely here. Hopefully, she would make new friends once I left.

I was ripped from my sorrowful thoughts by Madame Mesquine entering my room. She stood tall and regal before me looking like she belonged next to a queen rather than caring for unruly, orphaned kids. I tensed knowing that I was about to receive the news that I dreaded the most. I wanted to bury my head under my pillow and put my fingers in my ear just so I couldn't hear what Mme. Mesquine was about to tell me. If I didn't hear what she told me I could pretend like I wasn't going to ripped from yet another home. Why? Why did life have to be so cruel to me? Instead of acting like a child, I sat there waiting for the horrible news.

"I have found work for you. It is a nice job with decent pay and a room will be provided for you. You will be a servant to the household of the Vaniteuxs'." She informed me. She said it like it was a blessing but to me it felt like a prison sentence. "You need to pack your belongings. You will be starting work on Monday."

I wanted to cry. Today was Friday, which meant that I would be starting a new part of my life in just two days. How could I say goodbye to this part of my life when I haven't even said goodbye to the chapter of my life before I came to live in the orphanage. I contemplated taking Christine and running away to a place where we could life a simple life but I shook the thought out of my head before I could do anything rash. It was a foolish idea and it would never work. I reached under my bed to get my bag so that I could pack my clothes in it. My fingers finally found it and I dragged it out. I sat on my bed reflecting on the last time I held this bag in my hands. I tried not to think too much on because it disturbed me deeply every time I did. I took out my papa's cigar box and retrieved the thing in it that troubled me so much. I would read it but I had not become any better at reading French then when I first moved here. I could read simple sentence but once it started to become too complex my understanding of French faltered. I had thought about asking Christine or Mme. Mesquine to read it to me many times but never did. I never asked Mme. Mesquine because I was nervous about the content of the letter and thought that she might give it to the police if there was something in it. I didn't trust the police one bit. They had made no progress on my parents' murder and had closed the case. I didn't want them to take this letter and get my hopes up that they were making progress, only for them to crush my hopes of catching the person behind my parents' death. And I didn't want to make Christine read it because I didn't want to destroy her innocence. I didn't know what the letter actually said but I had a feeling that it was not a letter that had welcomed my family and me to our new country. So I had kept it a secret hoping that one day I could advance enough of my reading skills to read it or trust someone enough to have them decipher it for me.

I put the intimidating letter back into papa's cigar box next to my mama's beautiful hairclip. I wistfully stroked her hairclip becoming more depressed as I stared at my parents' belongings. I quickly jumped off the bed before I started crying in order to complete my task of packing. I pulled of all but two of my dresses out of the dresser and packed them away in my bag. I would leave my undergarments in the dresser till Sunday night.

I replaced my bag back under my bed so that no snoopy kids would dig through it. I made my way down the hall towards Christine's room dreading the goodbyes I would soon have to say. Christine was sitting on her bed brushing her dolly's hair. Her dolly was very special to her, probably her most important possession. It was the last thing her father had given her before he had died. He had told her to take special care of it and she had followed his instruction carefully. She would brush its hair everyday and wipe it down at least every other day. The other kids would make fun of her for treating it like a living thing but I understood why she did. It was her last physical memory of her father. If it got destroyed, all connection to her father would also be destroyed. That's why I hid my parents' hairclip and cigar box away, so that it would be safe. I sat on Christine's bed and waited for her to be done brushing her dolly's hair. She didn't look up at me until she was completely finished which meant that she braided its hair so that it wouldn't knot when she played with it.

"What's going on Leila? Why do you look so sad?" Christine looked at me with a worried face. I didn't want to tell her. She would be devastated. I picked at her blanket trying to come up with an easy explanation but I came up blank. How do you explain to a nine year old that her best friend had to leave her behind because I have to go work and that she would probably never see me again? I would try to write to her all the time but I had no guarantee that I would be able to see her. Mme Mesquine might not allow it for she would want Christine to move on. Mme Mesquine was not as cold and mean to the other kids I had noticed. She would not ignore them and act as if they were a nuisance. She was even kind to the younger kids. I knew why Madame Mesquine acted so unpleasant towards me. It was because of the color of my skin. She couldn't hide her disdain for me concerning my ancestry. She would try to keep me out of the orphanage as hard as she possibly could once I left. I wondered why she hadn't made leave earlier. All the other kids, except for Christine, gave me curious looks, as well. They knew I was different. I wasn't like them and they always treated me like it. I hated it. Without Christine, my time here would have been very miserable! I knew that I meant a lot to Christine, as well. She was too shy to truly be friends with any of the other kids. She liked being part of groups of kids but when she was with someone one on one she became very bashful. Christine and I had clicked right away and quickly became best friends.

"I-I am leaving, Christine. Madame found work for me. I have to leave on Monday." My voice became quieter the more I explained to her what was going to happen. Her face remained blank as she processed what I was telling her. When it finally hit her, she pounced on me wrapping her arms tightly around my waist. She cried on my shoulder repeating over and over how she didn't want me to leave. I stroked her hair trying to calm her but nothing seemed to work. I tried to stay strong in front of Christine but it was becoming harder as the minutes passed. Finally, it became too much of a trying task and I felt warm tears wet my face. We finally stopped crying when we realized that we were wasting precious minutes being sad. We needed to make new happy memories before I left. We jumped off of Christine's bed and ran down the stairs. I suggested that we go and play outside and wonder around the market place. Our tears were soon replaced by giggles and laughs as we played together, but on the backs' of our minds the heartbreaking news was still there.

The days passed quickly and Monday approached much quicker than Christine and I had anticipated. I slowly walked down the steps, counting each step as I descended. Fifteen steps down, a quick turn to the left and twenty more steps down. I waited by the front door for Madame Mesquine and Christine. Christine was supposed to meet by the door to tell me goodbye one more time before I left. I waited about five minutes before Christine appeared beside me with a tired looking eyes and a tear stained face. I quickly looked away not wanting to cry before meeting my new employer. We hugged for a long while quietly whispering our love for each other and our goodbyes before Mme. Mesquine approached. We let reluctantly let go of each other. Mme. Mesquine impatiently waited for us to say our goodbyes one last time. I exited the door feeling my heart breaking all over again. I was to leave another loved one in my past. I tried to be optimist about my future but without knowing my future employers I couldn't even began to imagine what my future looked like.

A/N: I know this chapter is short but I figure it's better than nothing. I plan to update soon with Leila's view of her new employers. What do you guys think of Christine? I originally wasn't going to put Christine in this story but I liked the idea of her and Leila being friends. Do you think I should have Christine reappear in Leila's life later in the story or should she stay in Leila's past? Please let me know if there are any mistakes. Thanks for reading!

Side note: The new cover picture is how Erik is going to look in this story unmasked. The amazing picture belongs to Muirin007. She's on Deviant Art if you ever want to check out her other pictures. She has some amazing Phantom of the Opera pictures. I recommend that you go and look for yourself.