Chapter 2 is underway! I'm not dead, despite what you may have assumed. I think that I'm going to delete my other story altogether and just work on this one. I'm a bit rusty, so any suggestions to spruce it up would be deeply appreciated.
Chapter Two
After trying to comprehend the muffled sound of both Christine and this man's voices, I was left in such a state of curiosity and pensive thought to discover who the man was. While passing the hallways, I approached Mame Giry, who, after growing up in the opera house, had a notion of everything that occurred within the building's walls. Mame treated Christine as if she were her own daughter, which gained a great deal of respect and appreciation for her.
"Mame Giry, there is a matter we must discuss." I tried to seem professional and maintain my composure despite the outlandish voice that continued to echo through my head. I straightened my collar repeatedly out of nervousness, which Mame Giry noticed without delay.
"Monsieur, I think the collar is straight enough," she commented and smiled sympathetically. "What troubles do you face?"
"I know you may think I'm mad, but I was almost certain that I had heard a voice in Christine's dressing room."
"Her voice teacher, no one else." I realized, however, that there was a hesitation to her voice. It had almost appeared as if Mame Giry were hiding a deep, dark secret from me.
"Are you most certain? I've often wondered if this 'angel of music' of which she speaks would be voice behind that door. She warned me that the angel of music was strict, and that she had been visited by him many times."
Mame Giry sighed. Avoiding eye contact, she said, "Yes, Monsieur Victome." She led me into her chamber to retrieve a letter stamped with what appeared to be a bloody skull. She insisted that I read the letter, explaining salaries and the emptying of box five, and I replied, perplexed, "O.G.?"
"Opera Ghost. The Phantom of the Opera. He has been part of this opera house for many years. Those years, he'd found music to be his one escape from a pitiless world of oppression. He was forced to wear a mask to cover veined, yellow skin and black holes used as eyes, to avoid humiliation. Here he has remained to this day: waiting for the world to become compassionate. To this day, he gives people the maltreatment that they gave him."
"Where does he reside within these walls?"
"I cannot inform you. It would be far too dangerous."
"I can handle danger, Madame."
"Not this kind of danger. Best you stay here. Your life, and Christine's, may depend on it."