...Well then. This is awkward…I mean, after disappearing for…how long? A year? Or was it more than that? Iono…
…….
I'M SSOOORRYYYY!
-koff- Well now that the apologizing is done with, I'd like to introduce my new fanfic, a total POTO/ Erik+Christinehot and wild duder ficy!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera etc etc etc.
Chapter One
Please, Dad, today just hear my call,
I'm sorry that I dropped the ball.
My life is wrecked, my knees are skinned,
My emotions undisciplined.
I can't get up although I try,
Please don't be upset if I cry.
Though I can't fight what I can't see,
Please, Dad, say you're still proud of me.
Michael Anderson
In the beginning, when you heard the name Christine Dain, some might think of the wild child that destroyed her neighbors' flower garden with a flick of the wrist, chased the untamed bullies around and around the quiet suburban street, and politely helped her ailing father to and from the car.
Later on, many would reflect on her innocent appeal that attracted hundreds of boys to her birthday parties, not just for a slice of the vanilla cake.
The elder folk would consider her ability to change the appearance of old Mr. Landlo just by smiling at him.
Most, though, would remember her gift of song.
The McGee's, although quite the snobs, would remark to their country-club "friends" that they had a musical prodigy as their next-door-neighbor. That eventually led to the gossip of her Siren capability, which ultimately led to the request to sing on MTV by a very famous DJ, which then led to her almost-TV show that would have aired across the world.
Yes, Christine Dain was very-well known.
But then she disappeared.
For a few weeks, the world constantly talked of the little goddess's vanishing, their lips spilling with words of murder and kidnappings. Their eyes grew wide at the mention of her naive name. Then, as news does continue with more interesting stories, their eyes moved on to another hot topic, like the assassination of the hot actor, James Brown.
Just like that, little Christine's legacy was gone.
And just like that, her voice was heard no more…
"Mrs. 'arvey, Mrs. 'arvey! Come 'er, come 'er! Look w'at C'ristine did!"
A loud sigh was heard through the spacious house, causing the walls to slightly quiver with amusement. The clanking of glass followed the annoyed voice, a muttered 'Why the hell do I put up with these kids?' subsequent that. Entering the foyer, a motherly woman dressed in a fashionable clothes moved towards a little boy of only five, sitting next to an young woman of twenty-one.
"Christine, darling, please tell me that you didn't do anything stupid," the woman, now known as Mrs. Harvey, begged. Shuffling her feet, Christine looked down at the tiled floor, head hanging in embarrassment. Murmuring a "Sorry", the young lady pulled up the back of her shirt and cringed as she heard the astonished gasp behind her. Feeling fingers on her lower back, she swiftly tugged her purple blouse back down to her jeans.
Whipping her wavy auburn hair from her face, she stared intently at the older woman in front of her.
"I didn't do anything you said I couldn't. You NEVER said I couldn't get a tattoo. Plus, it's just a small one. I mean, you can hardly call it a tattoo," Christine stated hotly. Of course, once she saw the look on Mrs. Harvey's face, her attitude was once again turned back into the ashamed little girl façade. Feeling her chin being moved, she found herself staring at the person who took care of her.
"I can't believe you did this, Christi. I really can't. Are you really that cruel to go behind your mother's ba-"
"YOU'RE NOT MY MOTHER!"
Silence echoed through the hallway for a long period of time. Tiny whimpers came from the corner of the room. Ragged breathes came staggered from the center. And complete and utter stillness radiated from the woman nearest the kitchen door.
Taking her hand back from the chin she was holding, Mrs. Harvey smiled a sad smile, and suddenly brought down her palm onto the pale cheek of her eldest foster-child.
"Don't you dare speak to me that way," she said in a sinisterly sweet way, waving the young boy away from the room. Christine glared at her.
"I'll speak however I want to you, Mary."
"You will not!"
The brunette smirked, letting her lips form the words, "You don't control me, you bitch. No one does. See what I care."
Another stinging pain ran across Christine's face, allowing a red mark to accompany the ache. Her russet eyes continued to stare into her caretaker's cobalt ones, daring her to slap her again.
Shivering slightly from the gaze, Mary mouth formed into a nasty frown.
"You know child, I can throw you out right here and now. You're definitely old enough to leave the house and go out on your own. And I'll just watch from my bedroom window, waiting until you're cold and wet and ready to come back into my loving arms," Mrs. Harvey growled, her hands clutching the book she was once reading.
A laugh preceded her snarl.
"You think I wouldn't leave?" Christine snickered. "Watch me."
Taking her dark purple leather purse, she pushed the oak door open, allowing the cold wind to enter the warm household that she once called home. Looking back at her foster-mother, she grinned as she saw the look of astonishment on her once twisted features.
"Bye-bye, Mummy-dearest."
Slamming the door closed, Christine walked confidently down the sidewalk in front of the rented townhouse. Pulling her hair into a tight bun, she yanked on her black cotton sweater, and continued to wander down the gray streets of London, her smirk never leaving her face.
Touching her lower-back where her rose tattoo lay, she giggled in excitement.
"I'm free…"
The sky grew grayer.
"I'm finally away from that bitch."
Thunder boomed in the distance.
"I can do what I've always wanted to do!"
Lightening flashed across the clouds.
"I can-..."
The rain began.
Christine's triumphant grin slowly faded into one of a panic, gradually becoming a fearful frown that she wished she hadn't acquired. Rain droplets ran freely down her forehead, entering into her pupils, making her blind for a moment. Rubbing her eyes in haste, the young woman suddenly realized what she had done.
"Oh shit…"
Glancing around frightfully, she continued to stand in the middle of the forgotten street, lonely and isolated. Her legs started to quiver, and she found herself falling to the ground in alarm.
She had no where to go.
Well, the Girys' were NOT an option. As much as she knew Meg and Mrs. Giry would take her in, Christine was positive they would send her back to another foster home, where they would send her to work at a factory of some sort. Going back to Mrs. Harvey was out of the question. She couldn't go to her family. They were all dead.
And she basically was too.
The woman felt tears well up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks, mixing with the salty rain. No longer could she hold her bad-girl attitude. She turned back into the small little girl needing her father, whom could never again sing her to sleep.
"…daddy….Daddy…DADDY!" she screamed, her voice covered by the shrill thunder that erupted throughout the sky.
Sobbing, she ran towards an alley, her hand hanging in dread and grief. Plopping down by a dirty cardboard box, the little woman began to rock back and forth, jerking every time she saw the fiery lightening race across the dreary sky.
A silly rose tattoo was not worth any of this.
Well, tell me how you like it. Erik will come later on in the story. Not sure when.
Review, girls and boys! XDDD
Shiraha