Chapter 2

Paris 1882

Relief swept over me as I took off my confining mask. The packages of meager provisions were growing increasingly heavy in my arms. After they were all set down in the boat I stood up straight and stretched me back. Breathing in deeply I listened to the bustling sounds of the Opera house far above my head.

There was to be a performance that night though I did not know what of. I rarely went out of my stone prison and when I did I stayed out for a small amount of time.

All my time was spent sitting and staring off into nothingness. I could no longer do what I enjoyed the most out of my pathetic life. Compose. No musical sounds could help clear my head of her long enough to think. The world no longer held any joy for me, and yet I was too selfish or too cowardly to end my own misery.

I did not deserve death. All the pain that I had caused others haunted me day and night. The screams of innocent people dying under a falling chandelier echoed in my ears. The contempt and hatred in Christine's voice when I stole her from the world above still curses every little sound. How could God give me another chance at anything when I tried to drag one of his angels down to the darkness that consumes my soul?

A year had passed since my cruel deception had been uncovered and yet it felt like it had only happened yesterday. I was however grateful when the Persian fabricated my death and people stopped looking for me. Once again my residence was left in the cold dark silence of misery. I had created my own hell and I would suffer in it until the end of my days.

While I was wallowing in my self-pity I still wished for something that I could never have.

"I wish that I could be special, even just to one person. I wish I could make a difference in someone else's life… For the better."

I slumped into my boat and started toward the stone structure at the other side of the lake. I was thinking about attending the opera that night and viewing it from my usual box. Madame Giry had kept it open for me out of respect. She told the managers that it would be the only thing they could have done in reverence of my death. They did not struggle with her on the subject and left it open.

As I debated if I wanted to go that night my attention was drawn to a small raft floating by a crooked stone pillar. As I looked closely I made out the figure of a woman lying on the raft. She seemed to be sleeping, but I could not tell.

I made up my mind to go and inspect the unusual situation and as I got closer I saw the details of what she looked like.

Her clothes were of non-that I have ever seen before. I let my eyes wander up toward her head. She was blessed with long golden blonde hair that reminded me of shimmering sunlight. Her face was painted as if it had been designed by wretchedness itself. She looked on her outside as I did on my inside. Endless tears stained her face, which was a beautifully pale in color. She had full lips as dark as the night that surrounded her. Lovely black angel wings hung from her back and only added to the beauty of her.

Despite her strange appearance she intrigued me, I had to know about her.