It seems that you guys are finally catching up with me. I finished writing chapter seven and wrote myself into a trap. I have no idea what to do. I want to again thank my reviewers. Youare the ones that are inspiring me to go forward. Like I said before, Idon't know the story of the Phantom of the Opera as well as I should. All I know is what happened in the 2004 movie, starring -drools-Gerard Butler. Anyways, take care of yourselves.


Christine didn't tell anyone of the voice she heard in the auditorium. Because, frankly, when she really thought about it, the more she thought it was just a janitor that called her.

Curiosity was always one of her weaknesses, so she did something that later when she was in front of the auditorium, she regretted.

She asked Meg where James lived.

She told her but didn't ask why. Maybe it was because she was watching her favorite show. She was eating her macaroni and cheese while she watched her TV crush talk.

Anyway, she told her the directions and she went without letting Madame Giry know.

That was over half an hour ago. Now she stood in front of the auditorium doors deciding whether to go through with her plan. Christine had the lock picking tools in her sweater pocket. If someone were to see her, they would think that she was going to break in.

Technically, she was, she reminded herself.

She looked at the doors, then around. Then she tried the metal knob. The doors were locked. Where was the courage she had when she came up with the idea of breaking in?

But now the more she thought about it, the more she didn't want to do it. Christine sighed and turned. As she went down the small cement steps, she cursed herself for not being any braver.

As she reached the bottom step, she heard a click and a small creaking noise. She stopped dead and turned. The door was open. Practically wide open.

Well, not wide open, but about an inch open.

They were locked, she told herself. I checked them myself. They were locked.

Maybe it was the Angel of Music after all.

She shook her head. No, it couldn't be. Could it?

She stood there staring at the door. Really stared, se eve had to blink to rewet her eyes.

Well, a part of her mind screamed, you wanted your prayer answered and now that it has been you chicken out? Stop being a baby and open the door!

Before she was aware of moving, her feet made their way up the steps. Her hand reached for the cold steel doorknob and pulled the heavy door. Resolutely walking forward, she walked inside and shut the door behind her.

When she turned, she noticed one thing: It was dark. Pitch black. She couldn't see her nose in front of her.

And it was as hot as a sauna. They obviously kept the air conditioner off during the night. This prompted Christine to take off her sweater, and place it on her arm.

The chairs must be around here somewhere, she thought. She placed both her hands in front of her and moved them around searching for the chairs.

She had just about given up when-

"Son of a bitch!" She yelled making it echo around the large auditorium. "Small chairs, Christine, small chairs," she scolded herself. She had brought her shin to a very small chair in the audience. No wonder she couldn't fell it with her hands. The chairs would only reach her waist, not her chest where her arms had been.

She placed the sweater on a chair and rubbed her aching shin. Pain was still radiating from it when the stage lights turned on.

Christine once again just stared. Suddenly, the pain didn't worry her at all. Now, all she wanted know was who or what turned on the lights.

Stop being a baby and find out! The voice spoke yet again. Suck it up and go!

Taking a big breath to calm her nerves, she moved forward to the stage. In the middle there was one of the chairs she bad been sitting at earlier that day, only this time there was something different. There was a red rose resting on it.

She picked it up and studied it. It was very real, not a figment. The thorns had been taken off and a silk black ribbon was tied around the stem.

"Christine…Christine…"

Goosebumps began to rise on Christine's skin. It was the same voice of earlier. The man singing her name, he was there. And she was alone with him.

Maybe it was stalker-janitor looking for her. And now he had her right where he wanted. Great, she thought sarcastically.

Maybe going there wasn't such a good idea.

She started to leave, she was going to, but something stopped her.

He was singing it, her song. The song her father had made especially for her. He was singing it. The voice from earlier was singing her lullaby.

Her breath caught and she felt as if her hears had stopped for about five seconds. She had a falling sensation and there was a roaring sound in her ears.

The man sag nothing like her father.

His voice was much more huskier, it seemed as if it would belong to a rock star.

"Where there is music, there is life,

Where there is love there is no strife…"

How could he know all the words? She asked herself. Her father told no one of their song and she certainly didn't.

"…will catch you when you fall."

Christine could not help but sing along.

"The Angel of Music will take care of you,

to dry your tears when you fell blue."

They sang in unison and soon his voice died away and her's was the only one left.

"…That is my promise to you, my dear,

When he at last appears to you have no fear."

But she doesn't fear him. At last, he had appeared to her.

"My Angel of Music," she whispered.

"I am your Angel of Music," he responded.

She let out a slight gasp.

Her angel had a deep dark voice that echoed throughout just like hers had done while she sang. She couldn't imagine how he looked like, for now he was hidden and his voice was her only comfort or proof that there was an angel for her.

"The rose is for you," he said to her. "A gift for a beautiful lady."

"Angel," she called, looking around. "Where are you?"

"Here, my child," he said. "Hiding in the shadows."

She tried to follow the voice. "When will you appear before me?"

"Soon," he answered. "You shall soon see me."

Her curiosity was too much to contain. She needed to see him, to match a face to that glorious voice. "Will you at least show yourself in shadow so that I may at least see your figure?"

Interest tugged away at her. She wanted to see her Angel. She wanted to ask him so many questions.

Then he spoke with such hatred that she was sure he would come up and slap her. "You ask too much, ignorant child!"

"I-I'm sorry," Christine whispered, afraid." I didn't know."

"Fair Christine," he said with a soft tone. "There is no need to be scared. You should not fear me, after all."

"Yes," she said understanding. "Father said I shouldn't."

"For now, this should suffice. You should go for it is late."

Christine smiled and listened to her Angel. "Yes, I'll go home." She began to leave but a thought came to her. She whirled around and looked out into the dark audience. "You won't leave me, will you?" She asked desperately. "You won't go?"

He chuckled. "I shan't leave you. I will stay, Christine, as long as you will have me."

She looked up at the beams. "Never leave me, Angel."

"I will be here for you when you need me."

Christine left with her sweater and rose in her hands and tears in her eyes. She was finally in the presence of her Angel of Music.


Finally, right? The Phantom is finally in the story. I know, I know I've been kind of slow on the draw but remember, this is Christine's story. It is about her internal struggle of finding out who she is and how to cope with her father's loss. For all of those Raoul fans, I have a really cute chapter coming up that shows his sensitive side and how he cares for Christine.
I know, Christine brought all of this on herself for saying "Never leave me, Angel." But you know how it is. Okay, send the reviews and I will send the next chapter.