Dear Reviewers-I am SOOOO sorry about that little chapter mix-up. I was reading the reviews and was like, "Popcorn? What are these people talking about? I don't remember any- OH MY GOD!" So, yes…It's all better now…On with the show!

Chapter Six: Somewhere I Belong

Leonora's Point of View

I have always been different because of my leg. It's amazing to me how one little distortion can ruin a person's life and cause them to be completely rejected from others. I remember lying in my bed, listening to my parents plotting how to get rid of me and the next day as we were walking past the opera, they told me to go sit on its steps as they entered the stores. I obeyed and watched them leave, knowing why I was sitting there. I made no attempt to find them through the crowds, thinking of how they wanted a dancer for a daughter. I made a vow right there to be a famous dancer and show them what they had abandoned. It was only later, when the other members of the company started to mock me, did the anger at my parents turn into regret and sadness.

The other ballerinas would shove me on the stage, branding me with cruel nicknames like "Leonora the Frog" and "Madame Toad." My only friend was Annette Giry, too young and innocent to mock anything. Yet, she was still silent as I was jeered at and made no attempt to help. Not even her mother, the dance instructor, Meg Giry, would help me.

I was alone.

Well, almost, except that the new Patron, Robert Gounod. He would always stop me in the corridor to tell me how good I was doing and if, perhaps, I wanted to dine with him that evening. I frankly don't understand what makes the other girls swoon. They may see a handsome, young, rich, gentleman, but I see an obnoxious, blabbering, naïve pig. And, to make it worse, the other girls became jealous and made fun of me even more. Only Annette seemed to like the fact that Robert liked me as she planned that we'd get married and live in a beautiful cottage by the sea. It almost made me vomit.

"Annette," I told her, grabbing her by the arms. "I'm not marrying Robert."

That was the same day I fainted because of the lights and my costume and everyone laughed at me. To make matters worse, Robert stopped me in my tears, trying to console me yet I rejected him straight on. It was also the night I met Erik…and the night of my awful nightmare…

I remember my nightmare clearly now. I was walking in a world of white, feeling sad and gazing up at the gallows where a man stood. The strange part was that he had no face; it was just smeared together with no features. A man whose face was also smeared signaled for some guards to drag me away and I screamed as their hands gripped me. The man who was to be hung yelled for me as I pulled myself back into reality; the calm, dark comfort of the dormitory.

I made sure everyone was asleep and went to get a drink of water from the pitcher on the table. As I was pouring the water, I heard a faint sound coming from the walls and I froze with fear. Then, I realized it was a soft melody, strange and beautiful. It seemed lift all of the humiliation and sadness from that day off of my shoulders as I followed the music down the hall.

I found myself in Cornelia's dressing room, in front of a large, dusty mirror. As crazy as it sounds, the music was coming from inside the mirror. I felt it for a few moments, still listening, longingly, to the music and hoping I would eventually find its creator.

I gasped happily as I found out the mirror was a door, leading into a dark hallway. The music pulled me through the corridor, twisting and turning until I came to the edge of a lake. A lake under the opera house? How strange…

After peering into its depressing waters, I remembered the music and stepped into the lake. By God, it was icy cold! Like thousands of tiny knives tearing at my skin as I trampled out, deeper and deeper, forgetting I was getting my night shift wet and how embarrassed I would be to explain it.

Suddenly, as I turned a corner, I came to a large iron gat. Behind the gate, there sat a man playing the organ. He heard me and scuttled into the darkness and I tried to convince him to come out, mentioning how beautiful his music was and telling him my name. He then told me his.

Erik.

His voice was so rich and lovely, deep and yet gentle. Somehow, I could tell then that he must have been an amazing singer and, judging from how he played the organ, an unbelievable musician. He reminded me of a puppy that had been kicked too many times, terrified to show the world his talents in fear of being laughed at and criticized.

I told him of the happenings earlier that day. I told him of Mischa, that naïve little ballerina that had, since I had arrived there, pestered me any time that she saw an opportunity. I hate her!

Then, I asked him of his face before I could control myself. I knew there was a reason why he hid it. It had to be deformed. I felt so rude and thought that surely he would tell me to leave then…But he didn't. Instead, to my complete surprise, he opened the gate and I wandered in, gazing at his strange little world filled with candles, music, and mirrors.

My eyes caught sight of a miniature model of the Opera Populaire and I gasped at the figures inside. It was perfect little models of the company performing Miserere. I noticed the figure in my position and suddenly realized my sadness. The figure had sad eyes and frowned…a perfect model.

I told him of my parents, how I came to be at the opera house, and my loneliness. He didn't interrupt me at all; he just listened intently and seemed to understand everything I told him. I found myself wanting to know the man in the shadows. He was deformed…but so was I.

As he entered the light, I felt my heart break open with compassion for him. The left side of his face was completely scarred to a reddish color and his lower eyelid drooped lazily. He seemed so scared and sensitive…I embraced him.

In our embrace, I felt a strange feeling stir inside me. I couldn't describe it. Even when I left his lair, I was searching my mind for the name of this feeling…

I came to visit him often after that and I watched him play the organ, studying him more thoroughly. As he played, the deformed side of his face was in the other direction and he looked like an ordinary man. I also listened to him sing…A cry of beauty and desperation that I could not resist to join him. He suddenly whirled around to look at me, eyes wide with surprise.

"I'm sorry," I stammered. I noticed him smiling and became confused.

"You have a good voice," he replied as if he were not fully there and went on playing and singing, signaling me to join in.

We talked more of Robert and he seemed to have the same look of him as I did. It was amusing, us talking badly of him, back and forth. I had someone to tell about my impression of him and I told Erik about the silly ballerinas who twirled their hair as Robert would enter a room.

"He draws women?" he asked, seemingly confused. I nodded and he shook his head, chuckling sadly. "As long as you're handsome, you can draw all the women in France," he continued, bitterly. "It doesn't matter who you are, just how you look. It's all a façade!"

I sighed at his anger and rested my hand on his shoulder. He flinched; as if afraid I would hit him, and kept his head bowed.

"Those girls just don't know what true beauty is," I whispered. He raised his head to look at me and I went on, not knowing where the words were coming from. "They need to learn to look past the features and realize the soul, as I have done."

There was an awkward moment of silence as we both stared at each other. I remembered my hand on his shoulder and retrieved it quickly and looked to the floor, embarrassed. I could feel both of us blush as he went on playing that night.

At rehearsals as I danced across the stage, I could feel Robert's eyes resting on me, tracing all of my features and cutting into me like two large knives. But, even though his eyes made me feel uncomfortable, I realized that, ever since I met Erik, I had improved greatly in my dancing. Even the other girls started to show me some respect as a dancer. It was because he was with me…

During Cornelia's solo, I caught his eye and he smiled at me. I smiled back weakly until that idiotic manager snapped me out of Erik's hypnotic gaze by stopping the song and asking me, 'What the hell are you looking at!' I apologized and went back to my look for the scene, not daring to glance up into Box Five again before the scene was over.

When we were allowed to stop while Cornelia practiced her solo, my gaze shifted to that box where Erik stood still. He was looking at me all misty eyed as if he were in a dream…and I found myself giving him the same glance until Annette pulled me out of my daydream, asking me to explain a dance number to her.

Suddenly, I froze. I finally realized what emotion I felt that first night that Erik and I met.

Love.

It was true- I love him. He's the first person I can actually talk to and express my feelings with. Beyond his disfiguration was a soul so beautiful that, if your features depended on what lay within, all women in Paris would flee to him…God, I must repeat it!

I love him! I love Erik!

A/N- Next…can you trust your friend with a secret? From Annette's diary…R&R!