Strange Angel
Disclaimer: The Characters in this story don't belong to me, they belong to Gaston Leroux, Andrew Lloyd Webber and others associated. If I had the chance to own anything from Phantom of the Opera it would be Erik…. sighs if only dreams could come true.
Lyrics
Indicates the Phantom/Erik speaking
Thoughts
Chapter One: You Were Once…
She hung her head, she felt so ashamed now, especially at the fact it hadn't worked, that she had been discovered and by Meg. Poor Meg, Christine thought bitterly, she wished that for once her best friend wasn't so caring and concerned. Now here she was being released from the Hospital a month after her attempt at suicide and to Annette Giry of all people. So much for second attempts now Christine again bitterly thought.
By now Christine Daae was nothing of the girl she had been once. She was quiet, reserved and brooding now. Even her eyes had become dull and lifeless. Christine Daae was no longer and all that remained was an empty, hollow shell. She hardly ate, the trays the nurse brought to her were returned to them empty, but most of the food went down the toilet since the waste baskets would be to obvious. She was painfully thin and pale. A ghost in a way… yes, a ghost, practically nonexistent.
"Ready to go?" A most stern woman asked politely, a hint of French to her voice, but the stern woman smiled slowly, an old hand coming to rest on the girl's shoulder, " Worry not Christine, all will be fine now."
She said nothing to this woman… her Best Friend's mother, she had nothing to say, but she moved forward, head hung downward as if she was entranced by the movement of her feet, one in front of the other.
On the ride to the Girys' house, she did not look out the window, she said nothing, occasionally nodded yes or no, but remained silent as ever, never looking up even if her neck was beginning to grow stiff from it's current position. But the pain was welcomed, if she had to live then pain would be her true friend from now on.
Finally the car rolled to a stop and Christine's brown gaze rose but for a moment and then lowered. Home sweet home, she thought with sarcastic amusement, but it was not a friendly thought… it was anything but nice. Nothing would ever be the same now.
Annette Giry slowly shook her head, this girl… once so lively was in bad shape. Everything had been going for the girl until that fateful day a month and a half ago when her parents had been killed in a horrific car crash. Taking a deep breath, Annette smiled solemnly towards the girl, " Meg has fixed your room up. She is pleased to have you with us as am I." Giving Christine's shoulder a squeeze, Annette got out of the car and watched as the girl did the same.
" I'll… get my bags." Christine offered, amazed Mrs Giry could even hear her whispery voice. Shuffling around the car, the sixteen year old retrieved her bags, a small suitcase and duffle bag, her backpack already slung over one shoulder and slowly followed the woman into the house… and it would never be home.
"Meg! Meg Giry enough fussing with that room. Get down here and help with dinner!" Annette called up the stairs to her daughter and then turned to Christine, " Go on upstairs, dinner will be ready in an hour."
Then suddenly a fairly pretty little blond haired teen bounded down the stairs and paused, " Christine! I thought you wouldn't be here until tomorrow!" Skipping about four steps, Meg took her friend into a hug, but at the lack of reaction from the girl, she let go and stepped back a concerned look crossing her features, " Christine…"
…Christine…
" Huh… wha? Oh." She forced an apologetic smile, "Meg. Hi. Sorry… I'm…" She shook her head, she felt as if she was in a trance… and that voice? Where had it come from? Had Meg or her Mother heard it? Christine stole a quick glance at each, apparently neither had, strange… , " I'm just tired."
Meg nodded, her demeanor becoming quickly somber, " Okay. If you need any---"
" Meg. Come, time to make dinner, it is your turn." Annette quickly spoke up, it was obvious Christine would be on the road to recovery for a long time and Meg's hovering, busy-body ways wouldn't be much help at the moment. Snatching her daughter's arm, Annette dragged her into the kitchen leaving Christine to be alone.
She did not hear the argument that was exchanged between Meg and her mother, instead the brown haired young woman's mind was else where, on what went wrong, on what was wrong with her and why was all this happening to her… obviously no one cared, not even God. Christine had dragged herself into the depths of utter despair.
Placing a shaking, slender white hand on the stair railing, Christine slowly made her ascent to what was now her new room. It had only been two days after her ordeal that she learned of the fate of her old home. Her parents had been deep in debt and the auction of the house and everything in it had paid that off… lucky her, she thought bitterly and slowly entered what used to be the Giry's guest room.
How much it had changed… correction, how much it had been changed for her. In fact it seemed as if she had somehow stepped out of the Giry's house and back into her own. Yes, maybe this was all just some strange dream she was having, letting herself fall onto her bed, Christine closed her eyes thinking that if she counted backwards from twenty and then opened them again all would be as it had been before.
Exactly twenty seconds later, Christine opened her eyes, a small giggle escaping her full lips, " It was all just a dream…" She gazed around happily at the sight before her. Her rose print comforter slightly askew, her small collection of stuffed animals haphazardly placed in one corner and on her desk, her most precious possession, a blown glass rose that played a melody she had loved as a child. Bounding up from her bed, Christine ran to her door, threw it open and stopped dead in her tracks, " No…no…" She shook her head wildly, curls of nutmeg brown spilling this way and that, her brown irises dancing as tears engulfed them and then rolled down her cheek. She stumbled backwards falling to her knees on the hardwood floor, " Please… make this end… please…" She began to sob, her sickly slim frame curling into a ball on the floor as she cried herself to sleep.
End of Chapter One
