yawns I emailed this site to question the truth regarding that stupid petition. I told them what's been going around and asked if it was true or if some demented asshole is getting people's account information to steal into YOUR lives. Oh well... I'm still waiting for a reply.
Some of you may not like what I do later in this chapter, but what am I saying? Most of you don't like Christine to begin with! -hears Uno call her a bleeding heart-
Hehe... enjoy... 22 pages long.
(Just added in a day after the recent upload) BTW: the lyrics you see down below are of Evanescence, called My Last Breath; I have never heard this song before so if any of you have it, please give me a copy.
- Chapter Eleven -
Erik watched as the young ballerina took a heavy sigh and pushed away from the edge of the rooftop once more. She turned and glanced down at the papers she held in her hands, frowning. His brows knitted together in wonder at what the papers consisted of. The only clue he had was the devastated look on the young girls face as she continued to reread it over and over again.
What the devil does she have in her hands? He pondered silently. Erik stayed put on his perch of Apollo's mare but desperately wanted to leap down and rip away whatever she held onto.
Perhaps it is a letter from America he decided. A letter regarding a death in the family, perchance?
He didn't know anything and after another sigh from Uno he realized he wasn't going to figure out just staying in the shadows. He inhaled a deep breath and let it out softly. He was just about to open his mouth and speak to her through the statue when he noticed something about her face. Erik frowned and leaned closer, yet still managing to remain in the shadows. Her face was glistening with sparkles.
What on earth could be in that letter to have made her cry?
Uno shut her eyes and inhaled deeply, squaring her shoulders back to regain her composure. Erik watched as she pulled herself together before glaring down at the parchment in hand.
"No," she snarled out. Erik paused and was suddenly weary as to who she was talking to or what she was talking about.
"I won't let it affect me like this," she added in. Erik leaned back and cocked his head to the side, watching her attitude switches happen as swiftly as a bee's sharp turn.
"You are in the past," she paused and took something out from behind her neck, "and you won't affect me anymore."
What the devil is she doing?
Erik watched as she laid the paper down on the ground and brought to life a flame in her fingers. His eyes widened at her remarkable talent, producing fire in her fingertips. She lit the corners of the papers the waved her hand in the air. It appeared she had dropped something onto the ground besides the burning paper.
"That's enough," Uno demanded. She stood up and with one final glance at the flaming parchment she turned and retrieved into the building.
Erik immediately jumped down and ran to the fire-lit parchment. By the time he reached it the flames were lapping away a good portion of whatever was written on it but he was still capable of making it out. Putting the fire out and picking up the discarded letter, he glanced at the writing and scanned its contents. He half expected it to be a note from America but he was wrong—way wrong. They were just short paraphrases but they were written in stanza format, as if it were poetry without a rhyme.
Hold on to me love—you know I can't stay long.
All I wanted to say was 'I love you and I'm not afraid';
Can you hear me?
Can you feel me in your arms?
Erik's brows knitted together and he flipped the paper over but found nothing written on the back. Returning to the front, he read a few more lines of the questionable letter.
Holding my last breath—safe inside myself are all my thoughts of you…
Sweet raptured light it ends here tonight.
A suicide note was the first thought that came to mind; only a suicide note to whom? Who was this girl referring too for the thoughts? Pondering the answers, he read on.
I'll miss the winter; a world of fragile things.
Look for me in the white forest, hiding in a hallow tree…
… come find me…
I know you hear me;
I can taste it in your tears.
Holding my last breath—safe inside myself are all my thoughts of you…
Sweet raptured light it ends here tonight.
Erik turned away from the words and glanced down at the ground, hoping to find something else to answer this riddle. Instead, all he found was a tiny stick, no bigger than a broken piece of a twig from the branch of a tree; and it appeared burnt.
It was a matchstick but had she not lit fire by her finger tips? Perhaps she had a talent for magic and knew how to create fire as he knows how to create fireballs?
Erik returned to the letter and finished the final lines, his answer still not found.
Closing your eyes to disappear,
You pray your dreams will leave you here.
But still you wake and know the truth.
…No one's there…
Say goodnight…
Don't be afraid…
Calling me—calling me as you fade to black…
Erik reread the odd poem once again. Despite the charcoal color that had coated the parchment from the fire she ignited, the letter itself seemed oddly suicidal. Why was this girl so tortured and always depressed when she was alone? Why did she write odd poetry about death and suicide?
And the question that really stumped him was regarding her intelligence. If Uno knew how to play the piano, sing, dance, write poetry, and produce lyrics that appeared to be from the top of her head, how extensive can her talents really go by just being a ballerina in the Opera Populaire? He knew there wasn't much of a chance for a woman to make herself in the world of today, but with all the talent she possessed, why only choose ballet when her voice was excellent enough?
I think it's time, dear Uno, you show Paris exactly how strong those lungs can take to a pretty voice.
After the opening tomorrow night, Erik knew exactly who will be singing within the second act.
-
A knock sounded on Madame Girys door and when the older woman answered it she found Uno on the other side, arms crossed over her chest. The woman frowned and opened the door a little more.
"Is something amiss, Uno?" She asked.
Uno shook her head. "I just need my cigarettes and lighter."
The woman frowned. "I beg your pardon?"
"Those things that came out of my pockets," Uno explained. "There's something I need to get out of them."
"Do you think it's safe?" Madame Giry countered.
Uno sighed deeply. "I need a smoke really bad. We have the opening in under a few hours and as of lately, my nerves have been horribly undone."
"Smoke?" The woman's eyes widened. "Uno—that is dangerous to your health."
Uno stepped inside the room and shut the door behind herself. "I know," she returned. "But you have no idea the amount of stress that's on me at the moment."
"And yet you had this habit while you fought?" Apparently, Madame Giry was unable to believe Uno's toxic habit in her youthful state. "You know it is not healthy, especially for a ballerina."
Uno rolled her eyes and glanced off to the side. "Don't remind me," she retorted. "But since my friend died I haven't been able to vent out my stress and I adapted to smoking it out."
"You had a friend die—I'm sorry," the woman glanced away. Uno closed her eyes and gritted her teeth to pry out the rising images.
"Don't bring it up," she forced out through clenched teeth. "But I need them badly."
Madame Giry nodded and proceeded to the armoire to remove what little Uno asked for of her possessions. On the way she said, "I wonder how long it will be until these unhealthy addictions will slow down your perfection."
"I'm amazed you know they're unhealthy," Uno choked out in humor. "I thought most people nowadays smoked out of society's influence."
Madame Giry returned to her with lips pressed thin. "They do," she whispered back. "But I have seen first hand what these can do to you. I do not understand how these," the woman handed Uno the small box of cigarettes and the black box containing lighter fluid inside it, "can be entitled as cigarettes and heaven only knows what that black box is."
Uno stuck a cigarette into her mouth and handed the box back to the older woman. Cupping her hands around the end of the stick, she brought the lighter up to ignite the tip. "A lighter," Uno mumbled back. She lit the tip then handed it back to the ballet mistress.
Madame Giry frowned down at the black box holding lighter fluid and surveyed it. "A lighter?"
"Instead of using a match you just press the switch and a fire lights up, instead," the young girl explained. She removed the stick from her lips and blew out a breath of smoke off in another direction.
Madame Giry frowned and turned away to put the few items back where they were hidden. Uno closed her eyes and tilted her head back as she continued to puff the intoxicating fumes. The woman returned a moment later and stood firm, watching the young girl destroy her lungs.
"Are you ready for tonight?"
Uno sighed and blew out a puff of smoke. "Yeah," she replied lazily. She stuck the stick back into her mouth and glanced back at the older woman. "Yeah I'm set to go."
The woman nodded her head. "You must hurry and head toward the seamstress to pick up your costume. I am certain it fits but just to be certain she will want you to try it on. These past few rehearsals I have had the ballet dance in their costumes; however, you were not attending those."
Uno shrugged her shoulders. "You told me not to."
"That I did," the woman breathed out. She watched Uno turn and open the door. "Good luck tonight, Uno. May heaven rest upon your shoulders and grant you eternal luck."
Uno snorted a chuckle and removed the stick from her lips. Turning around to give the woman a smirk before shutting the door, Uno retorted, "Heaven sneers down at me while Hell looks up; I won't need any luck."
-
Erik adjusted his cloak and reclaimed his seat within his usual location, Box Five. He was ready and prepared the watch how well the new ballerina would perform. Her 'letter' was neatly tucked away in a secret hiding place back in his lair and the words for the next letter he would deliver to the managers were still forming in his head. He was ready to make Uno a star and by his word, he would be obeyed without any distractions.
The musicians warmed up and Monsieur Reyer began conducting a few minor pieces to help seat the audience. Erik turned and glanced at a few of the faces, instantly seeing one that put a bucket of rats in his stomach. Raoul and Christine were seated in a box a little off from across him and although they could not see him, he could clearly see them; it would be bothering him all during the act.
Soon, the music to the first act started up and instantly a few of the ballerinas leaped onto stage to begin their dances. Erik smirked, seeing Uno with her long braid wrapped into a bun, twirling around as the center ballerina for the five dancers. In accordance to her moves the other ballerinas followed and soon several more danced onto stage from the side.
Erik noticed one of those ballerinas was Madame Giry's daughter, Meg. Meg twirled and leaped gracefully into the air and when she joined sides with Uno, he had noticed the two of them made quite a duet together.
After the ballet had completed their act and made way for the diva, La Carlotta, Uno and the many other dances had quickly escaped the horrible toad and took shelter back stage. After the ballet Erik no longer cared for the show and decided to leave. He had seen enough and hearing was another thing he wasn't ready to do.
Perhaps when Uno agrees to sing, he decided. Until then, La Carlotta, you may have your spotlight.
-
"Uno." Uno stopped and turned back to see the ballet mistress catching up to her. "You did well, child."
Uno stifled a smirk. "I told you I didn't need luck."
The woman nodded with a sigh. "I have somebody who wishes to meet you."
Uno groaned inwardly, knowing exactly who it was that desired to meet her so suddenly. Madame Giry moved out of the way so Christine could step up to the younger girl. With a wide smile, Christine extended her hands, waiting for Uno to place hers within them. Uno stole a quick glance at the older woman and noticed the stern gaze radiating off of her. That alone told Uno all she needed to know. Immediately, Uno put on a fake grin and set her hands within Christine's.
"Hello, Madame de Chagny," Uno remarked with glee. She gave off a twinkle in her eyes to charm the Viscountess.
"Uno," Christine giggled, "please just call me Christine. I am still not quite used to all that royal talk."
"As you wish," Uno replied genuinely. From the corner of her eyes, she could see the look of absolute shock on the ballet mistress's face. "But I only wonder as to why you are out of your seat. Do you not wish to view the rest of the play?"
Christine smiled and tilted her head to the side. "No Uno, I never had an ear to hear Carlotta sing."
Uno glanced off to the side and grumbled, "Looks like I'm not the only one, then."
Christine giggled. "Apparently," she agreed. Uno smiled brightly up at the royal girl before her and removed her hands from their grasp. "You are an incredible dancer. Madame Giry tells me that you have managed to learn the entire act in only your first day here."
Uno nodded. "That's right." She turned to smile at the older woman with a charming grin. "I have a God-given talent and I praise every use I get out of it."
"That is wonderful," Christine said softly through her smile. Uno glanced back into Christine's dazzling brown eyes. "You are truly a remarkable dancer. Just by watching you on stage I wouldn't think you to have succeeded the act in only a day."
Uno shrugged and looked off to the side. "I won't stop practicing until I've accomplished a task."
"Wow," Christine said dreamily. "My husband and I, both, really feel you brought the ballet to life, tonight. Even when I danced I could never fully get into the characters part that I was supposed to portray."
Uno smiled and allowed a blush to creep into her cheeks. "Well as I said, I have a talent that I cherish. Why do you not dance anymore?"
"Oh—well I am married!" Christine exclaimed, placing a hand upon her chest. "I can't be a ballerina when I'm married to the Viscount."
"Oh I know that," Uno blew off with a wave of her hand. Christine and she giggled for a brief moment and Uno, decided on prying information out of her new 'friend' to learn more about the people around her, came out with a new conclusion.
"But I'm sure you didn't always dance, did you? I believe I once heard you sang, as well. Also, I heard that you put La Carlotta in her place." Uno grinned from the side and noticed a part of Christine's face flushed with a pale blush, as if she were frightened yet still flattered.
"Oh I… was," Christine said softly, suddenly quieted. Uno frowned, puzzled by her change of tone. "I sang for the last few acts before I married off."
"What happened?" Uno questioned softly with a fake concern. Apparently, Christine fell for it and believed Uno to be a caring friend. "I was told you stopped a year before you wed the Viscount."
Christine nodded and lowered her head, her tone going with it. "I did, I…" She frowned and stared into Uno's eyes. "Uno, have you heard about the phantom of the opera?"
"You mean the opera ghost?" Uno quizzed. Alarm shot through Christine's eyes before she briefly nodded and pressed her lips together. "Yes… I have heard of him and from him."
Christine's eyes shot wide. "He sent you a letter?"
Uno frowned and murmured, "Why does that alarm everyone?"
Christine glanced around to see if they were alone and noticing the ballet mistress had left but they were still surrounded by a bustle of life, Christine grabbed Uno's hand and pulled her down the halls. Uno, mostly in a state of shock at the girl's actions, followed behind swiftly. Before Uno could question where Christine was taking her, they stepped into the washroom for the women on the second floor of the prop hallways. Christine shut the door and locked it before turning around to stare Uno in the eyes.
"Do not worry—he cannot see nor hear us in here," Christine explained. Uno frowned and glanced around in question.
"Who?"
"The phantom," Christine answered. "Had he not told you anything? He is the owner of this building."
Uno rolled her eyes and smirked back at the girl before her. "He mentioned I was an exquisite dancer."
Christine smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. "According to your audition, you were incredibly talented. I am sure that was what he was referring too."
Uno shrugged and blew the topic off. Turning away, she added in softly, "And he said not to displease him."
At that, Christine's eyes got as wide as saucers and her mouth gaped open. Uno smirked at the girl's expression and raised a finger to shut her gaping look. At the cold touch of Uno's hands, Christine shook herself out of it and stared at the ballerina.
"Y-you must listen to him," she warned. "If you do not he will find a way to make your stay a horrible one!"
"And how does he assume to do such a thing?" Uno pondered, crossing her arms over her chest. "He has nothing against me."
"He will find something," she warned. "The phantom will not stop at anything to find something against you, Uno. You must be very careful. Madame Giry had told me you are from America; I don't know how things are dealt with in America, but here there is no way for him to get into trouble with the law. He was once a wanted man for kidnapping me and setting this building aflame, but he cannot get in trouble again."
Now Christine had Uno's full attention caught. Narrowing her eyes and leaning back against the countertops, Uno regarding Christine at a whole other angle. The girl's serious brown gaze stared into Uno's violet orbs with alarm.
"Tell me," Uno began, her earlier words of charm no longer evident in her voice, "what happened when you were in the basement of the Opera Populaire?"
"What?" Christine gasped, unable to comprehend what Uno was asking.
"What made you flee from the stage in fear of returning and marry off to Raoul as quickly as you had?"
"I d-don't understand what you're talking about," Christine lied. "You've lost me."
"Now don't give me that bullshit," Uno spat out. She dropped her hands to the sides of her body and spun around, putting Christine behind her. The mirror before Uno reflected back the gawking girl and the cold hearted assassin, no longer hiding behind her previous delicate smile.
"I know there's something going on in this opera house," Uno paused and cocked her head to the side, "and it appears I'm the only one who doesn't know what that something is. Why is that, Christine?"
"E-excuse me?" Christine stuttered out.
Uno cocked her head to the other side, throwing Christine a wondrous look through the mirror. "I mean, after all, isn't it only right that the newest member of the Opera Populaire know the true story behind the legendary Opera Ghost and Christine Daae, that way that new ballerina would know what not to do in order to prevent the same thing from happening again?"
"I-I don't understand what you're talking about," Christine stumbled out.
"God, you remind me of Relena," Uno murmured.
"Honestly Uno… I don't." Uno turned around to see Christine giving her a sad smile. "I really don't see what you're talking about."
"Yes you do," Uno fought back nonchalantly. "Why try and hide it, Christine? I only want to know what happened. Do you want something as horribly dramatic to repeat and happen again?" Uno was certain to add meaning behind her words, hinting at the seriousness of her statements.
"Do you?" Uno repeated.
Christine stood gaping at Uno, unaware of whatever she should say next. Uno noticed the look in the girl's eyes that had told her she had gone too far. But there was no turning back now. There was a history to this building that Christine played a huge part of and Uno wanted to know all about it.
"Uno," Christine breathed out, "you're different."
Uno turned away and waved her hand in the air. "Don't change the topic, Christine. I only want to know the truth. Did he try and rape you? Attack you violently? Did he shed his skin and look like a monster?"
"Uno please," Christine choked out. Uno turned and saw a fresh tear falling from her left eye. "You don't know how deeply your words have just hurt me."
Completely at a loss now, Uno frowned. "What did I say?"
"I do not think he looks like a monster," Christine said softly, allowing a few more tears to fall. "But his soul is what makes him the monster that he is."
"His soul?" Uno's brows knitted together.
Christine nodded, her tears falling like endless flowing rivers of remorse. "Yes Uno. Have you not known that a person's soul can condemn them to their darkest fate for eternity?"
Uno snorted. "I have seen plenty of demons disguised as humans," she scoffed out. "In fact, I have come close to engaging one of them, once."
Christine nodded and sniffled. "He forced me to wed him, Uno. He had told me that if I did not accept, that he would kill Raoul."
Uno stared closely at Christine's face and saw the girl had an eternal loss in her eyes. Slowly, her own heart began to beat for this retired ballerina but her face would not display it. Uno knew how to keep her emotions in check and although she could feel Christine's pain, there was nothing in the world that could ever compare to her own.
"Raoul had chases us down into the bowels of the basement and tried to fight him for me, but he wasn't fast enough and soon he was strangled. If I had chosen to stay with Raoul then the phantom would have kill him," Christine continued. "I loved Raoul since we were children and I wanted him to be happy, even if I couldn't be with him."
"So you chose the phantom instead, making Raoul lead a life of heartache?" Uno summed up. Uno's words tore through Christine's aching tears and made more escape from her now closed lids. "Or did you expect Raoul to search far and wide for you, to steal you back and your captor?"
"Uno," Christine gasped out for air. "All my life, the phantom acted like my father, giving me voice lessons and taught me how to sing. He solely wanted me to sing for his music and when he learnt I wouldn't give him that, he grew jealous of the Viscount. He later fell in love with me and, once again, was jealous of Raoul for being charming and able to be in public."
"Why couldn't the phantom be in public?" Uno retorted sarcastically. "Would the public be cruel to him?"
"Yes!" Christine snapped back. Uno's expression wiped clean of emotion and after the girl's outburst, shock soon took over. "He looks much different than normal people and he would be pointed out in public for his differences."
"People here are horrible," Uno scoffed out. Christine stopped weeping for a moment and glanced at her questionably. "Where I come from people are expected to look different and not so primly proper and perfect."
"It is free of discrimination in America?" Christine gasped.
Uno felt stupid wash up and down her spine. Biting her lower lip, she turned away and murmured out, "Well… yeah… in a way."
Christine sighed and Uno saw a smile portray on her face. " America sounds like a great place. Perhaps he should go there to start over."
Uno slow nodded in agreement. "I uh… I think… you're… right," she remarked slowly.
Christine sighed and glanced at herself in the mirror. "My makeup has all gone running," she fumed.
"Sorry," Uno said sheepishly. She glanced down and frowned, fidgeting in place. "I guess I overreacted a little."
"No," Christine breathed out, "I should be the one to apologize to you."
Uno's face snapped up in shock. She did not expect Christine de Chagny to take the blame of Uno's prying mind!
"You have the right to know what happened so you wouldn't trace my footsteps. After all, you are the best ballerina I believe the Opera Populaire had ever seen. Heaven knows if he will seek you out next for whatever purpose he may have,"
Uno opened her mouth to say something in return but the words just wouldn't form. She wasn't expecting an apology for her cruel words. In fact, she was half expecting Christine to flee with tears in her eyes and have Madame Giry come lecture her over hurting the Viscountess.
"Right," Uno blurted out. It was the only thing that even came to mind.
"Well," Christine finished wiping off her streaked makeup and smiled over at Uno, "I'm still pleased to have finally met you and share a word with you in private. I wanted to speak with you for a while now and was afraid I would have never gotten the chance."
Uno casually shrugged her shoulders and glanced away. "Eh yeah," she slurred out with a frown. "I'm sorry if I had hurt you at all. I have a tendency to be a little hard on things."
"That's alright," Christine replied. She turned back to greet Uno with one of her charming smiles. "I am still happy to have finally met with you."
Uno nodded. "So you decided to condemn yourself in order to save a life," Uno tallied up. "Self sacrifice, but for love."
Christine paused and regarded the ballerina for a moment. Suddenly, she decided to ask, "What would you have done had it been you?"
"I would have told them both no."
Christine gawked. "No? But that isn't right in Parisian society! Everyone had already seen Raoul and I together like a couple and they all knew the phantom was obsessed with me. Why, he was speechless every time he saw me!"
Uno shrugged her shoulders and brushed it off. "I don't care. I don't appreciate people who make demands of me. If they tell me to do something I will throw it right back in their stubborn faces and tell them to find another person willing to grovel to their feet."
"Uno," Christine said softly, "you do not understand our society. We cannot say one thing and do another; it is just wrong."
"I don't care about the 'Parisian' society," Uno rolled her eyes at the term used. "I care about myself and those who mean a lot to me. If I were put in that predicament I would have told them I chose neither and left. I don't care what would have happened to me. I wouldn't have anything on my conscious because if the phantom still killed Raoul, it would be on his own."
"He has killed and he's not afraid to do it again," Christine explained.
Uno opened her mouth, about to say 'so have I' but stopped herself just in time. Instead, she turned away and shook herself to gather her thoughts back in order.
"I'm sorry," Uno muttered. "I'm still new to Paris. As I said, it's different in America."
Christine smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. "I do believe it is different by far."
Uno nodded. "If you'd excuse me, I'd like to get this war paint off my face and change. This costume's a little itchy."
Christine giggled and unlocked the door to the washroom. "I take it the costumes in America are much different?"
"They don't make me itch," Uno retorted. Christine giggled and exited the room with Uno behind her.
"Well," Christine turned to her with a delicate smile. She wrapped her arms around Uno—who graciously returned the hug—and squeezed gently. "Thank you for understanding."
"I do my best," Uno replied with her previous charade of pleasing the royal faces. After bidding each other a goodnight's, Uno retreated towards the costume department.
-
Uno knocked on Madam Giry's door and was soon greeted by the older woman. Stepping inside the room, she shut the door behind herself.
"I wonder if I may inquire some soap from you," Uno asked. "I would like to bathe."
Madame Giry smiled. "Of course, Uno." She turned and headed towards her dresser. "I keep an extra bar of soap just incase."
"Incase you lose it?" Uno joked. Madame Giry gave her a puzzled frown when she turned back around and Uno merely shrugged her shoulders. "After the hairbrush, who's to say you won't misplace the soap?"
"Watch your tongue," Madam Giry snapped. She smiled not long after and Uno chuckled. After shutting the dresser drawer she returned to her student with a small bar of soap wrapped in a cream cloth. "The wash room has the tubs already placed. All you need to do is tell one of the boys to bring up some hot water for you and they will do just that."
Uno nodded, ignoring the information but acting as if she took it down, and received the bar of soap. Saying her thanks, she turned to go but was stopped by the woman's voice.
"I am amazed at how swiftly you changed your attitude when you spoke to Christine." Uno turned around slowly and stared at the woman's weary gaze. "I will admit I was stunned."
"Yeah," Uno slurred out. "Yeah—I have a tendency to do that."
Madame Giry nodded and Uno exited the room. As she made her way down through the halls a plea rang out in the open followed by heavy laughing. Frowning, Uno turned the corner and headed in the direction of the noise. She came across several members of the stage crew—Clement not being any of them—and a girl about the same age as herself, cornered by them. She gave off another plea as one of the men reached out to grab a fistful of her skirts and lift it up into the air. The men laughed despite the girl's pleas and struggle to push them off her and Uno noticed many of their faces were red and washed away, signaling them to be drunk.
"Stop that!" She cried out as another reached out to grab her skirts. "Please!"
More laughter and Uno felt her anger growing by the minute, remembering when she was confined to only shackles and chains while four soldiers circled around her.
The room was cold and bare, metal encasing her every direction. Her wrists bled from the shackles that cut into them and her ankles were sore against her attempts to break free. Her body, aching badly and bleeding from a number of cuts and sores, sparkled in the bright lights despite the shadows that towered over her.
Uno raised her glazed eyes to the soldier before her and in a whispered plea, said, "Please?"
The man laughed and spat in her face. "No," he chuckled, soon being followed by the rest of his squad. "We're not stopping. We're having fun and we've only just begun!"
Uno tried again. "Please?"
The men around her laughed and another whip crackled out into the air, hitting her in the back and sending currents of pain up her spine. Uno screamed out as the men cheered on.
"Yeah it looks like this body's going to get a spanking for being disobedient," another soldier said from somewhere behind her.
She had managed to live past bullet wounds and drive-by shootings. She survived knife wounds, slit wrists and necks, and even fatal combat fights. She managed to remain sane against three self-manipulating machines that were ready to take her life at any moment.
But it wasn't until that very moment that Uno had learnt was real fear was.
"Please!" The girl screamed out again. Uno shook her head to clear away her miserable flashbacks and snarled.
"Hey!" She called out. The stage crew stopped and turned to see the 'perfected' ballerina standing behind them. "I believe the girl told you to stop."
"Who are you?" One of them had slurred out.
Uno cursed beneath her breath. "Leave or I'll have the phantom tell you to leave," she warned. She found she chose the right words this time, seeing as the looks on the men's faces turned to fright. Immediately, they turned and shuffled away in a hurry, leaving Uno and the young girl alone.
"Thank you," the girl breathed out with a weak smile. Her brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun and her blue eyes sparkled in response to Uno's actions.
Uno nodded her head. "Watch out when you're around here. These men do nothing but get drunk by the seconds."
"Yeah," she agreed. She stepped up towards Uno and stifled another weak smile. "Madame Giry was supposed to show me to the dorms after the play but I couldn't find her. I tried looking, still, and when I asked one of the crew I guess they decided a different reply was needed."
Uno snorted. "Madame Giry's in her room. I guess she must have forgotten about you. Are you new?"
The girl nodded. "My parents shipped me here from America so yes; I came alone to be a ballerina."
A cold chill ran down Uno's spine. America? Everyone will expect the two of them to have met already and if not, expect them to become good friends.
"Follow me if you wish to speak with Madame Giry," Uno stated nonchalantly before turning around and heading back down the hall she just emerged from. The girl quickly caught up and followed her.
"What is your name?" She asked. Uno was silent before replying. "I am Charline. It's nice to have met you, Uno. You already seem like a nice girl."
Uno snorted at that comment. Nice? She has no idea.
Frowning, Uno turned back to question her. "Charline is a French name." Charline nodded. "But you're American?"
"My Grandmother was French and her name was Charline."
"Oh."
"So naturally, after she passed away and I was born a year after on her birthday, my parents felt to name me after her, thinking I was a reincarnation of my grandmother."
Uno sighed and knocked on Madame Giry's door. The older woman opened and saw Charline, instantly bowing her head to the new girl.
"There you are, Charline. I was worried you have gotten lost and when I searched and could not find you, I have expected Meg to have found you already," the woman explained.
Charline frowned. "Meg?"
Madame Giry smiled. "My daughter." She turned and nodded her head at Uno. "I see you have met our exquisite dancer."
Charline's eyes lit up and she turned to Uno with shock. "You're that famous dancer I heard the audience ranting about tonight?" Uno groaned and turned away.
"That she is," Madame Giry said firmly. "Uno why don't you show Charline to the empty bed besides yours. Tracie has already returned to England after tonight's play and she will no longer be accompanying our opera staff."
Uno sighed and nodded her head. "Alright."
Charline bowed her head. "I shall see you tomorrow, Madame Giry?"
The woman nodded sternly. "And tomorrow you will audition for us all. Do not worry it will not be to join the ballet, since you have come straight from the Metropolis Ballet in New York. Your audition will be like Uno's. Just for a part in our next act."
Charline nodded. "Alright. Goodnight, Madame Giry."
Madam Giry bowed her head to both girls before shutting her door. Uno turned and strolled down the hallway, Charline following behind. It was quiet for a moment before Charline realized something and spoke up.
"Uno?"
"Hrm?"
Frowning, Charline glanced at the ground. "How did you know my name was of French origin?"
Uno kept her head hanging and her eyes closed, knowing how many footsteps were left to complete the hallway before having to turn down another corridor.
"I looked it up once," was all Uno said.
"Just my name?" Charline pondered, unable to believe the reply.
"It was an old friend's middle name."
"Oh."
"It's meaning is 'manly'," Uno added in. "Did you know that?"
"No." Charline glanced down with another thought. "What was your friend's name? Perhaps I knew of her if you came from America?"
At this, Uno froze and spun around to stare into Charline's eyes. "How did you know I came from America?" She barked.
Charline stood rigid, fear creeping up her spine. "I h-heard the guests s-say that the opera's incredible ballerina was f-from America," she stuttered out.
Uno did not believe that and her eyes narrowed. "They don't know me by name," she explained cautiously. "Only the Viscount and his wife, not counting the ballet, know that."
Charline nodded and gulped back her fear. "I spoke to Madame Giry earlier and she told me you're from America. I'm sorry for knowing and not telling you. I thought everyone knew."
Uno's eyes narrowed and her brows furrowed. Turning back around, she breathed out, "Well they don't." She continued heading towards the dorms.
"I'm sorry for starting anything," Charline said softly, following behind Uno's footsteps. "I didn't mean for anything rude. I was hoping you and I could be friends, coming from America and all."
I knew it, Uno groaned inwardly. She didn't need any friends. She was just content with being by herself in a world that didn't know nearly as much as she knew, waiting for that vortex communication link back home so she could call Justin and tell him she was trapped in the nineteenth century.
When Uno entered the dorms she found La Marcella sitting on the floor in front of her dresser, fingertips bleeding, and a snarl on her lips. Uno paused, seeing the prime ballerina failing at opening her rival's drawers.
"You!" La Marcella barked out as she leaped up to her feet. "You have stolen my spotlight and I will not tolerate anymore of it! And look! Look at what you have done to my fingers!"
She shoved her hands in Uno's face but like Uno was in the past at seeing her comrade's injuries, she only ignored them and stared the figure in the face. Several other ballerinas cringed away from the sight and screamed, terrified for whatever purposes Uno knew wasn't theirs.
"Look!"
"What about it?" Uno questioned.
"Look what you made me do!"
"I didn't make you do anything," Uno retorted. She shoved past Marcella and Charline followed behind. "You're the stupid idiot who tried to pry into my personal belongings. Just because you couldn't open a measly dresser drawer doesn't give you reason to put the blame of your hurt fingertips on me when it's my dresser drawer to begin with."
Uno took a seat on the edge of her cot, ignoring the stunned expressions on the faces of all the other ballerinas. Charline quietly seated herself on her own bed across from Uno's and glanced around at everyone with a frown. Uno crossed her arms over her chest, the bar of soap still in her hands from before, and hung her head. She closed her eyes and tried to drown out the noises coming from around her.
"And who is this new girl?" Marcella asked, finally noticing Charline. "Another witch? I hear she's from America as well."
"I'm not a witch," Charline fought back weakly. Uno opened her eyes and saw Charline frowning up at Marcella. "Why do you think I'm a witch?"
"You look like a witch and you are friends with that one!" Marcella shot a bloodied, accusing finger over at Uno.
Charline glanced at Uno and saw Uno was staring at her without any expression on her face whatsoever then turned and glanced back at Marcella.
"But I'm not," she defended herself softly. Uno closed her eyes. "I'm not a witch. I can't be if they're against my religion."
"You're religion is evil!" Marcella barked out. "You're a witch just like Uno!"
Uno sighed. "Shut up, Marcella," she growled out. The room went as still as a doornail. Uno raised her head up to glare Marcella. "Charline is new here and does not know a single thing about the Opera Populaire. If you keep flapping those prostituted lips of yours then you'll make her believe that the Paris opera house is nothing other than the sleeping quarters for every Moulin Rouge whore."
Marcella's mouth gaped at Uno and from the words she just heard thrown casually into the air by the American's voice. The other ballerinas gasped as well, shocked at the words Uno used and for what the reason was. Uno turned to see Charline's eyes, pleading a silent 'thanks'; Uno nodded her head in response.
"I need some air," Uno murmured. She glanced down at Charline with a sudden frown.
"Do you not have any clothes?"
"I-I have clothes but the delivery service will deliver them here t-tomorrow," Charline stumbled out, nervous after Uno's earlier remark.
Uno nodded and turned to go. She badly needed a shower before her battle fatigue scent radiated off her. Already, Marcella had begun to cause herself to bleed at the fingertips and Uno knew that in only a moment's time, worse things would begin to take effect.
-
Erik sighed and laid back on the statue of Apollo's mare once again, staring up into the night sky where a million stars shined down upon him. The play proved to be another hit. Hundreds of faces went home thrilled, pleased at such a remarkable act with stunning dancers and powerful singers.
Uno was incredible and he could hardly wait to cast her as the prime diva for the next act. If she worked as persistently to perfect her dance steps it was certain she would do the same to perfect her singing. It would be a remarkable showing from then on, if he could get her to sing.
And he intended to.
But all he needed to do was think of some way to get the mangers to believe another ballerina would be an incredible voice. Christine proved to be talented but would his foolhardy managers really want to repeat history? Erik knew he would have to do something to get them to obey his demands.
With an inhale as to what he would write, Erik slid down off the mare's solid back and retreated inside the dark hallways of the building. Normally, he would take to the shades and ponder as to why Uno didn't come out to the rooftop as she so often does, but for tonight, he felt he had better return to his dungeon of a home and propose a few of the letters needed to make his demands met.
I bet all of you were wanting Erik to chase her into the stables, eh? hehehe... YOU GOTTA WAIT FOR THE EXOTIC BEAUTY SCENES! THEY DON'T COME UP FOR AT LEAST ANOTHER FEW CHAPTERS!
And to those who review... I will give you all FREE passes to the classy night club not but ten minutes from my house, called HUSH and you ALL get to go with Erik for one night... each night is your own. hands out single night passes to each reviewer That's right! One person get's the pass for one night and Erik is a free bonus gift. The next night is another person, and so on down the line. You all have until five in the morning to return him, so make whatever you like out of the night while you can! winks