NOTE: Yes I know this is weird putting a note at the very top of my story lol. I just wanted you all to know right away that I am going to start telling the story in the 3rd person. I was going to take it all down and redo EVERYTHING but, I really don't have the time for it plus I'd have to go back through all of them and fix everything. It should be easy for you guys to follow through the story though as I am really only making it easier for me to be descriptive and more organized with the story. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sun shone brightly through the windows in the main entrance of the L'Opera Populaire. The gold along the railing of the stair case reflected the sunlight and the white marble floors looked more white than usual. It was another rehersal day and evryone was just starting to wake up throughout the opera house. The sound of water being turned on could be heard through the walls and little murmurs of people walking through the halls could be heard behind doors. As time went on the opera house became louder and louder as everyone scurried to their daily chores and work.
Gemma Romano, the L'Opera Populaire's newest play writer, woke up startled at another yet, obnoxious voice that could be heard all throughout Paris. Firmin and Andre's opera diva, Carlotta, was practicing once again, just like every day of the week. Once Gemma knew the noise she rolled her eyes and fell back against the pillow, face first. She tried to cover her ears with the pillow as to not hear anymore but, the attempt failed. She cursed into it and brought her face back up into a groggy and sleepy state.
Last night was just like every other night. Sometimes the voice wouldn't even come for three to four nights. It was as if it would just come whenever it wanted. Gemma would wake to the voice in the middle of the night and went into the prayer room where nobody would hear and she would sing. She would sing all her heart out to this being or ghost. Everyday she got better at it and everyone once in a while she would have double practices. Singing and dancing, well dancing with Meg and the girls of course. This voice though seemed so familiar as if she heard it from somewhere in her lifetime. As if this being was from a story...
*Christine.* Gemma thought, *Her story. His story...*
Gemma got out of bed and saw something red from the corner of her eyes. On her nightstand was another blood red rose with black lace. Another welcoming, another thank you. It was darkly romantic yet frightening all the same. A small gasp drew itself from her mouth as she picked up the rose with a trembling hand. She fell onto her knees clutching the rose with both hands to her chest. Stinging tears brimmed at her eyes and she covered her mouth with one hand to quiet the sobs coming from within her.
So Christine's story was true after all. Before she had not believed in everything Christine had told her. Gemma thought that maybe her parents tried to set her up so that she wouldn't leave home to Paris and used Christine to tell a white lie because they knew that if Gemma was to listen to anyone it would more than likely be Chrstine she would listen to. But no, this was all too real to be a story, a legend. Was she to take Chrstine's place as his newest little diva? Was he going to kill in her name so that she could live her dreams and to get what he wanted? Definetley not.
Though something seemed different about him. He hasn't acted out at all nor has he even shown that he was here and around the L'Opera Populaire. No letters to the managers, no deaths or sudden mishaps of any kind. The opera house seemed peaceful though there would be the occasional police that would come in and just check things out just to see that everything is running smoothly. Madame Giry even seemed quite pleased with the way things were going. She did not have anything look of mystery about her like the way Christine had described her to be, unless she was a good actress.
Gemma was now lying on the ground; a pool of her tears formed underneath her head. She wanted to crawl back into bed and lay there for the rest of the day just to block out the world for a while. She wondered what horrors had awaited her in the future. Surely this would be the end of her career. All the world would know of the young Sweedish soprano, Christine Daae, and the young Italian poet, Gemma Romano, who fell into his spell. She realized though that her fear was not for him. It was for his actions, his temper. Gemma had never heard him angry, only upset.
When he would sing he would sound raspy and out of breath as if the music that flowed through his body was dying. *If he was to die it would be of a broken heart* Gemma thought. She knew the feeling of a broken heart. The butterflies you would feel in your stomach would be flying their last flight in your stomach and instead of your giddiness you would feel nauseated. Your head would surely bust from all the stress and happy memories that are now concealed in your past never to be re-lived. Your breaths would be shallow and your body weak from no nourishment. Your eyes would sting and be swollen from the many tears you shed for the one whom had left you standing alone in the dust. To go on living life alone till the next heartbreak.
When Gemma would sing she would hear him start to cry a little and when she asked him if he was alright he would seem fine again and his voice would be normal. He would tell her to keep singing and not to stop completly ignoring the question. Another thing that seemed odd and out of place was the fact that she had only seen him one time. *Well seen what seemed to be a shadow really.* The night in the dancing room Gemma had possibly seen merley the shadow of him. He was covered in all black, head to toe. His hands were convered with black, leather gloves and his face was covered with what seemed to be an all black mask. She couldn't see his eyes nor his mouth though he could surely see her because he knew just where she stood.
Gemma took a few deep breaths while still laying on the floor. Panic seemed to release itself from her body and out the door. She grabbed the sheets of the bed to aid her up onto her feet. She pushed her hair back behind her ears and turned around to hear the maids come into the room grabbing her stuff and turning on the water for her morning bath. The maid walked up to her side and guided her to the bathroom. Gemma smiled warmly at her knowing that she did indeed need to soak herself in some warm water after her panic attack. It would relieve the stress and would return her face from pink to the normal color it always is.
When she had gotten out of the bathroom and inton her dress she sighed and placed on her powder and make-up. She fixed her hair into the lush curls they always have been for years and pinned it up just so that it was out of her face yet still flowing down her back. She walked to the full length mirror to check and make sure that everything was perfect. Before she left he started running through her mind again. Gemma placed a hand on the mirror and closed her eyes and prayed. Whatever was going to happen from now on would all be for a reason. Though he has never done anything rash to hurt her in any way she still fear what he might think or do now that she knows who he is. *No! He must not know... At least not now.*
She would keep him in the dark until he shows himself of his own free will. *He may never show himself to me now but, I know that if he trusts me he may. I just have to make friends and... and not do what Christine did to him.* Gemma prayed for forgiveness that if she make make this deal with fate that it will do her no harm in the future. That it would lead to good and righteous things. Surely she would never go against him and tell the athorities where he was and who he was. She would give him that peace and leave him be. Yet, for some reason, she couldn't shake the feeling of enjoying the company of the legendary Phantom of the Opera.