Alright, this is annoying. My Microsoft Word isn't working anymore so I'm going to have to upload all the stories on the downstairs computer. I might take a little longer to post them up because of that. Terribly sorry!

I also forgot to mention in the last chapter that I chose "Nightingale" by Norah Jones because it has this slight irish tune to it. . . okay, not really, but it's better than some others. I also forgot to mention that you won't have any true Erik/Loralee interaction until late (I think around chapter ten).

Thanks and enjoy!

Chapter Two: Nightmares and New Beginnings

"My little Loralee, I'd like to introduce you to Monsieur Hector Chaffee. Monsieur Chaffee, this is my daughter Loralee Donoghue."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Monsieur Chaffee."

"Same to you, Mademoiselle Donoghue."

"Loralee, if you please," she muttered, blushing deeply and looking down at his shinned shoes.

"And Hector, if you wish," he said back, taking her hand and squeezing it tightly.

Her mother, sensing they'd wish to be alone, claimed she had to go and start her embroidery, and hurried awayquickly, shutting the door behind her. Hector lifted Loralee's head up so it was facing his, a quality of love and caring etched all over his bright brown eyes.

The scene swirled to one of Loralee and Hector walking hand in hand down the river during a summer sunset, birds flying in the sky. They were laughing and sharing their inner most secrets to each other, slowly getting closer and closer together.

Another swirl and there was Loralee in Hector's parlor, crying tears of joy as her went down on one knee and promised her eternal love with a diamond ring of marriage. She accepted most graciously, and then he slipped the ring onto her finger.

Another swirl. Loralee was humming to herself as she ambled most happily down a street during the Paris night. She heard a lady's giggle and a man's husky voice whispering seductive words in the shadows up ahead. Passing them, Loralee couldn't help but glance their way, freezing in place as she saw who the two drunk people were.

Yet again: a swirl. The heavy smell of alcohol laden in Hectors breath beat down upon her face as he accused her one day of stealing ten thousand of his francs. She cried in pain as his rough hand pulled her hair back roughly, the other twisting her wrist until there was a ear splitting crack. She burst out in feigned apologies, even though she was innocent, and crumpled to the ground, her world going black after he kicked her squarely in the back of the head.

The swirling then got faster and worse, making her dizzy.

Swirl. His hand connected with her jaw.

Swirl. She saw a bruise of his hand form slowly on her neck.

Swirl. He slammed her up into the wall, baring down dangerously on

her.

Swirl. The feeling of clothes being ripped off.

Swirl. Her cutting her own wrists in wish of cutting her own string of life.

Soon it just went into swirls of evil grins, brown eyes dangerously flaming, pain all over, and Hectors evil laugh echoing all over. Loralee screamed, clawing at her face to make the sound go away and dropped through the swirling vortex.

Loralee sat up screaming. Her finger nails were digging into her cheeks and tears of fear were pouring down her cheeks. Gasping for breath and thanking God that it was just a dream, Loralee calmed herself with deep breaths. Opening her eyes, she looked around.

She was lying in a small and dinky bed, only a heavy woolen blanket covering her from the cold winter air. Immediately goose bumps broke out and she started to shiver. The room was small and contained a vanity, a closet, a wash stand and basin, her bed, and a mirror covering the far wall.

She shifted to get a better look at the room and she felt an unusual cloth against her body. Looking down she saw she was clothed in thin linen night shift with no arms and a rather low neck line lined with fraying lace. It didn't help with the crisp air, either.

Looking in the mirror, Loralee saw how she was a mess. Her black hair was mussed all over, sticking out and frizzing with knots. There were slight dents from her finger nails on her cheeks and her eyes were red and puffy from tiredness and crying. She also noticed her wrist wrapped up and a severe pain shooting through it whenever she tried to move it. Her eyes lowering, Loralee gasped with disbelief, crying out a strangled cry of surprise.

The night gown was clearly showing off the scars she bore and the recent scrapes and bruises from her last encounter with. . . with him. She tried to cover them up with her night shift but had no luck in doing so. They still showed out bright and clear on her arms and upper chest.

Covering her head and crying silently, Loralee fell back onto the pillows wondering if the people who had dressed her had seen them and if they told the managers who immediately decided to fire her.

Oh, how she hoped that was not the case!

Now, completely forgetting the cold, Loralee silently cried herself to sleep.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle, but do you know where I might find the fitting rooms?"

Loralee was purely flustered on her first day of work. Back stage of the Opera house was pure turmoil and it was almost impossible to memorize the song the Opera was about to perform. It was a rendition of William Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream." She had one speaking line and all the rest she was just supposed to flit around, act dramatically, and sing her heart out. Right now she was trying to find Madame Perry for costume fittings. She didn't even have real clothes to wear. Instead, she was running around back stage in her night shift with her blanket wrapped tightly around her body to cover her half naked body and her scars. She found the blonde angel from yesterday and immediately knew she could trust her.

"Of course! And, oh dear, you do need some clothes! Come with me! I'm Meg Giry, just to let you know."

"Thanks a lot Meg. I'm Beth McLay."

She followed the girl to a place in the farther back reaches of the backstage where a pleasantly plump lady was milling about with a ruler and measuring fabrics, pins sticking out of her mouth. Meg cleared her throat and the Madame Perry looked up, a smile sweeping her rosy cheeked face as she saw Meg.

"Hello little Giry!" she said happily, setting aside the ruler and taking the pins out of her mouth. "What would you like now?"

"Not me, Madame, but this girl here. Beth McLay. She was just hired yesterday as a chorus girl and needs her costumes for the play."

Meg nudged Loralee forward and she hesitantly came towards Madame Perry, clutching the blanket closer around her body, face turning paler than normal, dusky blue eyes sticking out rather too clearly.

"Come my dear. There's no need to be shy! Come, I'll help you get your first scene costume."

Meg sat down but immediately jumped back up, hand clutching her mouth, when Madame Perry took the blanket out of Loralee's tight clutch and pulled it off her body. She rushed over to Loralee and took on of her hands.

"Beth! Oh, dear, dear Beth! These scratches and bruises are not a day old! How in the world did your body come to get these?"

Loralee just shrugged, trying not to break down, and she blinked repeatedly, trying to keep her newly sprung tears at bay. She just thanked God that Meg only noticed the sparsely scattered new ones and not the immortal scars that were harder to see. Madame Perry's eyes narrowed, though, and soon she gasped, running one of her warm fingers along a scar on Loralee's wrist. Loralee gasped, jumped, and clutched her wrist to her chest.

"My dear! What in the world lead you to become like this?" Madame Perry exclaimed, care and pity filling her speech. She pulled Loralee into a friendly hug just as she broke down, tears spilling down her cheeks, out of her already puffy red eyes.

She stayed like that until all her tears were out. Madame Perry just rocked her back and forth in her arms and cooed at her softly, stroking her back much like one does to a frightened child. Meg had to leave to go to her ballet practice and left only after giving Loralee one big hug, making sure not to hurt her by pressing into any of the bigger bruises. Soon Loralee was left standing there, drying her tears and shuddering while taking deep breaths.

"All right. . . First I think we better get you the costume from the first scene. . ." Madame Perry went off to the real work. Soon Loralee had her outfits for the whole entire play. She wrapped the blanket around her again but Madame Perry made three "tsking" sounds and pulled it off of her leaving Loralee to try and cover her body, shivering from the cold.

"You're not leaving until I get you something to wear, either."

Loralee just stared at Madame Perry while she went away into a room for a few minutes.

"Let's see. . . Hmm. . . No, too low, too high, long, a-ha! I've found the perfect dress for you my dear."

Madame Perry came back out and handed Loralee a deep red dress with black ribbons and lace decorating the slightly long skirts. The top was tight, and the neck line was high enough to cover all the scars on her torso but still showed off some skin about her collar bones. The sleeves were long and tight, sure to cover the red scars on her wrists. It came with a woolen black shawl for the cold weather, a corset, and other undergarments needed.

"Go and get dressed behind the screen there. I'm sure it will bring out your hair."

Loralee, still goggling at the dress, had to be ushered behind the screen by Madame Perry. Slowly she peeled off her night shift and pulled on the undergarments. The corset took her a while even with some help from Madame Perry on the upper strings and she barely even needed it. All her days with Him made her underweight and look like a street rat. Slipping on the dress, Loralee savored the feel of warm fabric against her skin. She came out and tried to mat down her hair which was quite easy seeing her hair was could never stay in one position for so long.

"Ah, my dear, you are truly a beauty! Now go! Messieurs André and Firmin should be looking for you."