A/N: OH MY GOD!! Could it be? Is it an UPDATE??? Yes, it is! It really is!!!

I apologize profusely for the horrible amount of time it took me to get this chapter out. I was struck by a sudden and horrible case of PWB (Phantom Writers Block) and my muse decided to take a month long hiatus. But it seems to be back, at least somewhat. So, here is the next chapter. Sorry for the kind of abrupt end, but it kinda had to end there.

And now, for the BIG LIST OF THANK YOU'S!!! I hope I didn't lose all of ya by taking so long to update!! Anyways, big hugs and thanks to: MenacerPhan, SummerSong, erik'sangel527, Tailfeather, Kaya DC Pandora, Moonjava, ChoChangLookAlike, asdfj, Ultimate Vader Fan, Butterfly of Lothlorien, The Cure, annecordelia, Padfootz-luvr, Elisabetta, neo-lover72, SennaWales and Hopeyheartbear for your wonderful reviews!!!

To SennaWales: thank you for your reviews and critiques. I appreciate the tips, they just help me improve my writing!!

One last note: I am aware that my Erik in this story is somewhat OOC, compared to different versions of the story. Just to let you know, my Erik is not a maniacal murderer anymore. He is a haunted man with a horrible past who is trying to put his past behind him and move on. However, even when you try to be 'redeemed' sometimes the world doesn't let you forget your past. This is the basis of the story. SO if Erik seems OOC, I apologize. But my Erik has changed his ways, found love and happiness, at least as much as he and the world will allow him.

Disclaimer: I do not own PoTO, or the original characters. However, anyone you do not recognize from the Original book (s) or plays are my own characters.

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The next year seemed to fairly creep by. The day after I was offered the spot in the chorus at the Paris Opera Mlle Frank announced the news to my entire class, after which none of the girls would speak to me. They were jealous. They wished to have the chance I had been given. One of the older girls told me I was the teacher's pet and the name stuck and soon the entire class called me that.

I learned to just ignore them. I only had a year left, then I would move to Paris and sing with the Opera and it really did not matter what they thought anyway.

I never gathered the courage to talk to my mother or father, so I learned nothing more about their secret. I could never admit that I had overheard them talking and there never seemed to be an opportunity to question them. When I did have questions about the Opera House, they would sometimes answer them and then quickly change the subject. But usually I did not get an answer at all. All of which made me even more curious about what they could possibly be hiding.

After a while, though, I stopped worrying about it. I did not forget, but I figured that I was not going to find out the truth, at least not yet, so I focused on finishing school and continuing voice lessons with Papa and ballet lessons.

The school year finished and I was happy to be done with it. It had been a horrible year.

The last day of school Monsieur D'Aubigne came back to have me sign a contract. Mother was there and greeted the Opera manager graciously. He went on about my talent and Mother practically glowed with pride. Monsieur D'Aubigne was disappointed that Papa had not come as well, but Mother just said that he had business to attend to and was unable to come.

The contract stated that I would sing at the Opera for three years time, in which I would start as a chorus girl. I would live in the dormitories and the price of boarding would be deducted from my salary.

Mother looked over the contract and asked me if I agreed. I did and so the contract was signed and I felt a rush of excitement as I handed the contract back to M. D'Aubigne.

Then we discussed my arrival, which would be expected within a week of my sixteenth birthday, which was on July 24th. That left almost two months before I could go, two last months to spend with my mother and father and Stephan. As we shook hands and said our good-byes I was hit with a sudden rush of sadness that I would be leaving my family.

But my career was already underway and I was only fifteen years old. The thought was thrilling!

We took a carriage home. We sat in silence for several minutes before Mother smiled at me and said, "Bethie, I am so proud of you!"

"Thank you, mother," I said, smiling. More than anything I cherished my mother and father's praise.

"I am going to miss you when you leave," Mother said with a sad little smile. "I hope you will come home to visit in between productions."

"Of course I will, Mama," I said, slipping back into my childhood name for her. "I will miss you, all of you, so much!"

Mother pulled me into her arms and hugged me tightly to her. "You will love the Opera, Beth. It is so beautiful. And the feeling when you sing on that stage for the first time…it is amazing."

I smiled and thought of it, standing on the stage, singing. "You and Papa and Stephan will come to see me sing, will you not?" I asked.

Mother's gaze flickered away from mine and she stared out the carriage window. Her green eyes were sad as she turned to face me.

"Bethie, Stephan and I will, but you should know that your Papa cannot," she said quietly.

I sighed, half in anger and half in sadness. "I just thought…"

"I know, sweetheart. He would come if he could."

I nodded and looked down at my hands, trying not to let my mother see the tears that were pricking my eyes. Of course I had known he would not come, but it still hurt.

Xxx

The day of my sixteenth birthday dawned bright and sunny, promising a hot summer day. I got up and dressed early. The house was silent; everyone seemed to still be asleep. I left Sasha sleeping on my bed and crept downstairs.

I went outside and walked to the small stream that ran alongside our house. I sat down at the edge of the water, lost in thought. I had much to think about. Mother and I were to leave for Paris in three days time. I was elated, excited, yet at the same time I was terrified, thinking of all of the new people I would meet. Monsieur D'Aubigne had said I was the youngest of the chorus girls. No doubt the other girls would be far more talented than I, more sophisticated and elegant. My insides turned to ice when I thought of how the other girls from school had treated me. To endure that for three years while I was with the Paris Opera was a horrifying thought.

I had only three days left with my family before travelling to the unknown of Paris. Mother was to accompany me, while Stephan andPapa were staying home. Stephan had wanted to come, but his classes started before Mother was going to return, so he was staying home.

I heard the soft tread of footsteps behind me and I turned to see who was there. It was Papa. He stood behind me, wearing dark pants and a white shirt. His blue eyes were solemn as he studied me. As always, his gaze made me think he was looking right through me, into my very soul. Mother had once said that Papa could see far beyond the surface, and the older I got, the more I understood and agreed with that comment.

"Happy Birthday, Bethie," Papa said.

"Thank you, Papa," I said.

"Are you ready to go to Paris?" he asked.

I sighed and gazed out at the water. "I suppose," I said softly. I took a deep breath, determined not to say anything, determined not to let my father see my weakness.

Papa sat next to me. "What is wrong?" he asked gently.

I bit my bottom lip, trying to decide what to say. Finally I looked up at my father and saw the concern in his eyes and I took a deep breath. "Oh, Papa, I am so nervous!" I said finally, my words coming out in a rush. "What if I am not good enough? What if the other girls tease me? What if I make a fool out of myself?"

Papa regarded me cautiously, looking as if he were carefully weighing his words. "Oh, Bethie, my child. You are a lovely, talented young lady. You will be magnificent," he said. "Why do you think the other girls would tease you?"

"Because I am so young, and…childish."

"Childish?" he repeated.

"Yes. They will all be so worldly, so knowledgeable. And I am not."

Papa laughed gently. "Oh, Bethie. Most of the girls in the chorus will not be much different than you. They will all be young. Many of them may have lived in the dormitories for years, but they live sheltered lives. Their life is the stage, the ballet and the music. They will not be so different. It will not be like school. There will be girls that will envy your talent, no doubt of that. But most likely they will not tease you."

I looked at him in surprise, wondering how he had found out. He gave a slight smile. "Bethie, I know you. I have seen how unhappy you have been. I heard you talking to Stephan. I only wish you would have talked to me."

I looked down at my hands. I was twisting the edge of my dress, something I always did when I was nervous. "I-I did not want to bother you with my trivial problems."

"They are not trivial," Papa said firmly. "You may talk to me about anything."

I looked up at him. "Why will you not come to Paris with me and mother?" I blurted out.

Papa looked away from me, a distant look in his eyes. When he looked back at me, I was struck by the pain in his eyes. "Bethie, I would like nothing more, but I cannot."

"Why?" I asked plaintively.

He sighed heavily. "There are things…things that I do not wish to remember, that I do not wish to speak of. One day you will understand, but I cannot go to the Opera House."

"Why will you not tell me?" I asked, standing. My heart was racing.

Papa stood in a smooth, graceful movement. "I love you, Bethie. All I ask is that you just believe me when I say that I wish that I could. All I ask is that you forgive me for not coming with you."

Tears prickled behind my eyes as I realized that I was never going to know the truth. I was right, there was a secret, something terrible, that my parents were not telling me.

I wished I could do as my father asked, I wished I could just forget it, but I could not.

Blinded by tears, I ran into the woods to be alone.

((Well what did you think? Please please review and let me know!!! Thank you!!!!))