A young woman slender in her white dress pursed her lips angrily as she rocked a banquet of roses eagerly in her arms. Under the roundness of her eyes were irritated with a hint of pink, her eyes flickered around as an older woman braced herself beside her.

"Mama," The younger woman spoke softly her blond hair was perfectly curled as her lips were pink and chaste. The older woman's shoulders gave in, a burden of stress hovered around in the stale air. The blond hair girl gripped her banquet tighter and spoke up

"Mama, when can we?" The elder woman shook her head staring out into a distance, her lips quivered "Meg, I do not know." The girl gave a quiet nod and then turned her head to a door. Another woman dressed in maids clothes approached her eyes were still. "What a dull night," she sneered and briskly rapped on the door's surface tapping her foot. "For god's sake! let us in," the maid barked but tears slid easily from her eyes. "Margaret, we will see what fortune she has come to. If she's gone then we will let her go to her father." Margaret sobbed "Madame Giry, don't say that. She will live!"

Madame Giry only gravely nodded while comforting the young maid. Meg didn't pay any attention she was set off into a cycle of worried thoughts, her friend would pull through. Wouldn't she? only faith could tell, Meg swallowed hard as tears came hard a flashback rummaged through her mind.

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It was far back, way far back. Christine and Meg where small girls innocently watching the dancers who carried such grace in their stride. The opera populair was fresh and flourished with happy days. It was these days Meg and Christine would look up to the performances and eagerly await for their turn to come. It did come fast, for Meg wished for the past a little more then the future.

The two young girls stood offstage watching the dancers and singers hustle about throwing on their costumes and such singing little ditties to forget about their nervousness. Then the curtain would raise and elegant dancers would flower onto the stage causing a magnificent uproar of applauds in the crowd.

Christine was so innocent, her eyes were wide with excitement her face still the same bare white color. Meg stood by her side and gave out a sigh, she was thinking about when it was her turn. "Meg, I know one day we will be up there." Christine said very quietly, she was a small child who held great hopes.

The blond girl nodded and shuffled her feet a bit and watched as a woman in a large colorful gown brush by. The whole backstage lingered with the sent of perfume and rum, everyone seemed happy. One man carrying a bushel of roses bumped into small Christine not bothering to say an apology, Christine only shrugged and picked up one of the fallen roses. She toyed with a bit, rolling the rose petals between her thumb and her fingers, then put the rest behind her ear.

Meg watched Christine in a envious way, she was so pretty with brown delicate eyes and a body of porcelain white. An even after the recent death of her father she would smile often and still be in a cheerful mood.

"Christine, I know we will be up there on stage. But we will be there together." Meg spoke with confidence getting a slight look from a performer who puffed idly on a pipe. Christine started back at her friend, then took out the rose to press in the palm of Meg's hand. "Of course we will, we will perform together." The two girls who had sealed that promise then happily hand in hand rushed off to Madame Giry.

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The memory was snapped as Meg braced herself, a figure ghostly white laid out on a small bed. A large red velvet coverlet was draped over the shivering woman as maids bathed her face in steamy hot water with lavender essence. The clanking of pewter glasses was hushed as gravely the woman gurgled a bit to choke out the name "Erik?" Meg looked confused worried, her brow deepened as she rushed to grab ahold of the woman's hand. It was cold freezing, something as cold as death. The blond haired girl shuddered revolting her touch, she had to keep a straight face.

Madame Giry's face softened, so the phantom had revealed his name. Christine coughed, her lips fluttered under her raspy breath. Margaret propped herself up against the wall, she kept shadowed if she had committed the whole thing to happen to Christine. Maids bathed her face again, turing away in despite of coughs . Christine looked mercifully happy at Meg "Erik?" she asked again. Meg wanted to shake herself to awaken from just another nightmare, but staring into some soulless eyes filled up with repugnant times it was for real. Who was Erik? just Christine's mind far off into some fantasy land? A hero in her mind, a stir of some insane illness? "Christine," Meg was so worried, she squeezed Christine's hand tighter if she could pass some of her warmth to her. The woman's face paled, her eyes fluttered flickering like moths wings as tears streamed down fast. "Tut tut, the cold outside is harmful ma'dear seems this woman got greeted by winter for sure." Some others in the room nodded in agreement as a silence hung greedily in the air.

Hopefully it wouldn't be so quiet for long.