Noelle walked back to the Opera Populaire. She did not see anyone; they were like wraiths, nameless people, shifting around her. The only thing she saw was Michael, leering at her, feeling her. She wanted to wash his touch away from her, but she could not.
Somehow, she made it into the dormitories. There was no one there. She realized with a grimness that they were all out partying, or doing other activities under the cover of night. Groaning, she changed into her still-too-big nightgown and lay on her bed. The voice in her mind taunted her, calling her a whore. Noelle was tempted to clutch her head and groan like a madwoman, but she knew that would not drive the voice away. She was many things, but she was not crazy.
No, the voice was more like her mother's. Noelle had told her that she had been raped, but her mother, Camille, had not cared. She accused her of lying, trying to cover herself. The last sentence her mother had spoken to her rang in her mind; And if you were raped, you deserved it! You little whore, you are no longer my daughter! Noelle sighed and remained throughout the night a tormented soul. The other dancers came and talked in loud voices, drinking various liquors, but Noelle did not see them or hear them.
She must have drifted off to sleep eventually, though. She knew this because she felt small little hands shaking her awake. Noelle blinked the nightmares slowly from her eyes to see the face of a dancer she identifies as Jammes scowling at her. She looked around to see that all eyes were on her. Noelle swallowed and wondered what she had done.
Jammes sighed and asked "Who is going to go get Mme. Giry?" A petite brunette volunteered, quickly leaving the room.
"What's going on?" Noelle asked. No one seemed to want to answer, but shifted around uncomfortably.
The girl who had told the awful story of 'The Phantom of the Opera,' whom Noelle identified as Leona, was the only one brave enough to manage a response.
"You were screaming in your sleep," the redhead managed uncomfortably. "Nightmares. None of us could sleep." Noelle nodded and looked down at her hands. So, she was disturbing the other 'ballet rats' with her dreams. She did not feel any resentment towards them. She carried too much hatred for herself to feel any for anyone else.
The brunette returned with Mme. Giry, who was wearing a dark green robe over a nightgown. Noelle swallowed and looked down. The ballet mistress frowned.
"Why have I been called here, at all hours of the night?" Meg's mother asked.
Jammes was apparently the group's elected spokesperson.
"It's Noelle," the small raven-haired ballerina said, meeting the older woman's powerful scowl uncomfortably. "She had... nightmares, ad none of us can sleep."
Mme. Giry looked at Noelle, who refused to meet her gaze, putting her hands in her lap. Noelle remembered what she had said to the older woman; We all have our own demons, Madame.
The ballet mistress sighed, exasperated.
"Come with me, Mademoiselle Chanter. And bring your things." Noelle obeyed. All she had to do was pick up her clothes, which were wrapped in a dirty cloth. She had gotten used to moving; that was the life on the street. She did not meet any eyes. In a way, she was glad. She would not have to pretend now to be like them, to smile and laugh and flirt. Now, Noelle could be peacefully alone.
Mme. Giry closed the door behind her. Noelle stood awkwardly shifting her bundle from arm to arm. The older woman looked at Noelle, managing to catch her gaze. Noelle swallowed, seeing something akin to pity in the older woman's eyes. No! Her mind screamed. She did not want pity or charity; had never asked for it. It was a struggle for her to even accept the nightgown.
"Come, child," the older woman said. Noelle followed her, walking down many corridors until she came to a hallway with many doors. Mme. Giry stopped suddenly in front of a door, Noelle stopping with her.
"Usually, only the more... advanced dancers have rooms for themselves," the ballet mistress said. Noelle understood. The more people they brought in, the better quality of rooms they had. "But, in your case," Mme. Giry continued, "I will make an exception." She opened the door to the room. Noelle wanted at first to laugh.
The room was spectacular. There was a large bed with a blue silk canopy on one side, with a night stand of dark wood by it. The dresser was large and magnificent, with more room in it then she could possibly ever need. There were counters there also, built doubtless to accommodate countless flowers from admirers. They were empty. There was a vanity, with room for makeup and jewelry that she did not have. The walls were beautifully painted and adorned.
But the thing she noticed the most was the mirror, a large golden mirror that rested on one side of the wall. Noelle stepped over to it and gazed at herself. She possessed a sudden urge to cover the mirror. It showed her a haunted, but beautiful face that she barley recognized as her own. But she did not. She turned around to Mme. Giry and smiled.
"Thank you, Madame, but I could hardly accept such a room." The elder Giry walked towards her, lifting her chin gently. She found herself under the impenetrable gaze of the ballet mistress.
"He wants you here," the ballet mistress said cryptically. Noelle took in a breath, knowing what the woman meant by 'he.'
"The Phantom," Noelle breathed. He wanted her here? But why? This room was... amazing, but why would he want her in a room that should belong to a prima donna? The words of prophecy he had told her about Carlotta rang through her mind. He intends for me to replace Carlotta, she realized.
Noelle nodded, in control of herself once more, all her carefully crafted emotional masks back up.
"It will do," she said. Mme. Giry nodded and let herself out of the room. Noelle was left alone to sleep, which she did not. She thought she had enough of sleep, so instead climbed up into the gigantic bed and contemplated the strange matter of the Phantom. She did not realize that she had fallen asleep, but she did, and so woke the next morning.
The first thing that she noticed was the leotard, tights and ballet shoes from the amazing practice room on her vanity. She looked around, as if the Phantom would still be there. She bit her lip and whispered "Thank you."
Noelle got ready for her first practice, donning the leotard, tights, and ballet shoes, warming up quickly on the wooden bar that was placed also in the room. She was incredibly grateful for this room. The rooms the dancers were given to warm up in were a joke.
She went to the practice. It was alright, the chorus girls learning the part of dancing slavegirls quickly. It was a provocative dance that made Noelle uncomfortable; but it was better then being out on the streets. It was then that she first was introduced to la Carlotta and la Sorelli. The prima ballerina was an excellent dancer, but her attitude towards everyone else was almost laughable in its rudeness. Carlotta was worse, as she was an average singer who acted as if she was the only one who could even hold a note.
The rehearsal was soon over, and she returned to her room, exhausted. They had been fed sandwiches and soup, a thoroughly unsatisfying meal. She looked at the clock that was in the room and grimaced. They had been practicing for seven hours, with only a break for lunch. Her body was aching and sore. She removed her ballet shoes to see that her toes were bruised and bloody. She sighed and went over to the vanity, to see that there was lotion there, of the most exquisite type, made specifically for ballerinas. She put it on, then easily slipping her feet into shoes that were too big for her.
She sat, bored, uncertain of what to do. She crossed the room, going over to the bookshelf, which already had several novels on it. She briefly wondered if the previous owner had left some of their belongings behind. If they did, they had good taste. She read a novel speaking of dragons, and a strange fantasy world. So involved was she that she jumped when a loud voice echoed in her room.
"Noelle," it said, in strange, ringing tones. Nonetheless, she recognized it as the Phantom's. She smiled, and with a decisive snap, closed the book.
A/N: About the POV dividers... Gah, the site was eating the dividers for the longest time for me. But it should be all right and fixed now. ;) Thanks again for all the feedback. And just so you know, Noelle is not crazy.
