250 views! 100 visitors! I must be dreaming, you guys are AMAZING! Have an extra long chapter for amazingness. Finished the cover art too, so yeah...

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8 years prior

Christine giggled as her mother pushed her on their makeshift swing, happy and without a care in the world. She held Charlotte in her arms, cradling her in a motherly embrace. Her mother's eyes sparked with glee, ecstatic to see her daughter so happy, but she knew how to make that day perfect.

"Who wants to bake a Prinsesstårta?" Her mother teased. At this the younger lady squealed in delight, already on her way to the kitchen to make the beloved dish. Her mother stood behind, watching the young girl with delight. She only wished her father could be there to see their daughter grow up, but they had to make a living somehow, and Per Ingvar's violin skills simply could not be denied. Sadly, the nearest Opera was nearly a Kilo away, and a house in the city cost far too much, certainly more than a musician's salary allows. Of course, Per always came by to teach Christine music. Oh! How Christine loved to sing; whenever she heard music her face lit up, the she sang with her little voice. It was high and clear like a bell's! She hoped Christine would grow to be a Prima Donna and dazzle the world with talent.

She slowly walked over to their small house, recalling the first time she had ever seen Christine's father, Per Ingvar Daae. The man she loved with all of her heart. They were both young, no more than 15 when they first met. She was alone by the lake, quietly singing when, much to her surprise, a violin accompanied her. Together they made music (amateur and very out of pitch, but music nonetheless). She called to the man, asking him to reveal himself, and he did. Their parents heard of the mutual fondness and "arranged" a marriage between the two. Less than two years later, they had a daughter and a small home. She longed to sing just once with Christine and Per, as a family.

But for now she would settle humming while little Chrissy mixed the ingredients with a small fire in her eyes...

Fire.

Oh goodness! She left Christine alone, that little girl was too determined for her own good, she was sure Christine had lit the fire to get the oven warm. Ordinarily that would have been fine, but she hadn't taught the girl how dangerous fire was yet, she had to get to Christine, before it was too late!

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Christine couldn't run to the kitchen fast enough; it was months since she last baked a cake! She loved the princess cake especially, and today she would show her mom that she could heat up the stove all by herself. It was the ultimate triumph in young Christine's mind, to do such a thing without any adult to help her. She was too naïve to realize the danger involved with fire, fancying the pretty light to be a good thing. And one could never have too much of a good thing. She already knew where the matches were, so lighting it would be easy, right? It was a matter of pride to adults, not one of safety.

Because fire was not dangerous.

Right?

So with a confident spirit she dashed to the house, leaping over any stone daring to cross her path. Christine threw the door open, not bothering to close it, and began the seemingly miniscule task of lighting the fire. The drawer was forced open by her tiny hands and scrounged through until a small box came into contact with Christine's hand. Quickly grabbing the box, she fumbled with the box in her hurry to light the fire, and spilled all the matches out of the thing. She huffed in annoyance and snatched one from the ground, determined to waste no time. Now striking the match would be the difficult part, but Christine had no doubt she woud be able to handle it.

Mama and papa would be so proud! Their little girl, so grown-up and mature. She could feel the warmth of their gazes as they looked upon her already. "Oh Christine, you are the best daughter in the whole world!" She could practically hear them praising her already. They would just love it. She finally managed to light the match and skipped on her way to light the oven. Mother would just adore her even more now. She lit the oven, marveling at how quickly the fire spread. Subconsciously, her hand reached for the flame, longing to be one with the red embers.

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She burst through the door, nearly sighing in relief to see Christine unharmed. Then she saw her arm, which was extended outwards, nearly touching the flame. She had to act quickly, or not at all. Her mother leaped at Christine, hoping to save her from the fire at all costs. She shoved with all her might, and managed to push Christine safely away from the fire. She, unfortunately, hit her head hard against the top oven wall, leaving her cheek against the flame. She could only remember a distinct burning sensation before it all faded to black.

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Christine barely had time to recover from being thrown before she saw her mother sleeping on the oven, but something wasn't right. Her mommy's face looked weird, it was pink and angry. It seemed a little bubbly, like skin soap.

"Mommy?" No response. "Mommy wake up!" Christine was really scared, she didn't want to make cake anymore, she wanted mommy. "Mommy please!" She cried, but to no avail.

"Susan?" Dad was home, dad would help, dad knows what to do. "Christine!" He ran when he looked at the scene before him.

"Christine, what happened?" She couldn't speak. She couldn't move. He pulled her mother from the oven, tears brimming in his eyes.

You STUPID girl, you killed her! You might as well kill your father too!

"What have you done Christine!"