Hey everyone! Sorry for the long delay on this, but I was devoting my time to my other story. Hopefully I will be able to concentrate on this one now and will make every attempt to update once a week.

As I have said, this story will begin to resemble the book more and more, though I am taking a lot of original directions. This next chapter isn't too exciting, but it builds toward the bigger events. Reviews are always very much appreciated!

Read and Review!

Christine pulled the wool blanket up around her bare legs and looked around the silent apartment. All was completely still, save for the occasional drip from the faucet in the kitchen or the sound of a car humming down the street. The lights flickered once as the heat came on, and her digital watch beeped twice when the time changed to eight p.m. Pushing her wavy hair away from her face, Christine started to open a text book to get her mind immersed in her studies and away from the emptiness. Finding she couldn't concentrate after several minutes, she pushed the book aside and stretched out on the sofa.

It was her second night back in the decrepit apartment after resting several days at Meg's house. Though she had not wanted to come back to the loneliness, she knew that the apartment would not hold up well by itself. Another dark leak was already staining the ceiling in her bedroom, and a new layer of dust had found its way onto the kitchen floor. With winter approaching, conditions could only get worse.

Feeling a dull pounding at the front of her skull, Christine wearily stood up to take another Tylenol. Though most of the pain had stopped and only a tiny blue bump remained on her forehead, she still occasionally felt the effects of the accident. As the memory of the terrifying night returned, she was reminded of her companion in the barren woods. An unanticipated shiver ran through her as she thought of the voice, and she again wondered whether it had been real. So much of that night was nothing but a foggy mess of images and sounds, though. She doubted she would ever know exactly what had happened, but she liked to think that someone or something was watching out for her.

Just as she swallowed the white capsule with a drink of water, the phone rang out from behind her. Christine jumped as the high-pitched tone intruded into the silence, before quickly whirling around to grab the receiver. "Hello?" she answered, painfully gulping down the entire mouthful of water.

"Hello?" Mrs. Valerius' kind voice questioned. "Christine?"

"Hi, Mrs. Valerius!" she exclaimed, feeling her heart calm some. "How are you?"

"I am...fine," she answered with slight strain. "How are you? How is your poor head?"

"I'm doing well," Christine replied, unnerved by her guardian's hesitant tone. "My head doesn't hurt too much now, and I finally started classes again yesterday. The doctor said it was a minor concussion." She paused. "Is everything okay, there?"

A short silence followed, and Christine could feel her chest tighten in anxiety. "There is a little bit of a problem, Christine," Mrs. Valerius replied, attempting to maintain her cheerful tone. "The results of the test came back yesterday, and the scan revealed some problems with my bones."

"What? What do you mean? What kind of problems?"

"Honey, they think that I may have tumor growth in my bones. I though the pain was the arthritis acting up, but the scans showed that it may be something else."

Christine could feel her eyes well up. She gripped onto the receiver so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, trying to remain calm. "How bad do they think it is?"

"They don't know yet, Christine. They're taking more tests and should be able to tell in a couple of days. But please don't worry too much about me, dear. They have plenty of stuff to treat this kind of thing nowadays. I'll just be stuck in this dreary place for a little while."

"I'll visit a lot," Christine replied, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "Please call me as soon as you know what the test results are. I want to know how everything is." She paused again to collect herself. "Is there anything I can bring you?"

"No, dear. I'm absolutely fine here. You try to keep the apartment up and running, make sure that the heater is still working. Also, if you see the landlord, tell him that the two back burners on the stove are acting strangely. But, otherwise, try to keep up with your schoolwork. Don't worry about me."

"You know that I will," replied Christine with a choked laugh. "I wish you could come home."

"Me too, dear. I'll come home as soon as I can. Is there anything else you want to tell me? One of the nurses is here so I may need to go in a second."

"No...well, actually there is kind of something." She swallowed and took a breath. "I may try out for that musical, the one you were talking about. I doubt I'll make it, but I thought that it might be fun. We'll see."

"That's wonderful, Christine!" exclaimed Mrs. Valerius. "I knew that cassette would help you clear your head a bit. Tell me how everything goes! Your father would be proud to hear this news!"

"Yeah," she replied. "I'll let you know how it goes."

"Okay, dear. You've certainly made my day better. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Goodnight... and take care."

"Goodnight, dear."

Christine hung up the phone with a dull click and sat down at the kitchen table. Placing her forehead into her hands, she allowed the withheld tears to stream down her face for a moment. With desperation, she started to reach out and give Meg a call but stopped when she saw the clock. It was after eight on a Friday evening. Her social friend was likely on a date or at a party.

"Dad," she whispered with defeat into the vacant room. "Please don't take her away from me, too! I can't be this alone. Please! Give me some sign that you're still there. Help me."

Silence greeted her quiet plea. She was about to go back into the living room and drown her pain in the drone of the television. Then she felt it, though. It was a subconscious feeling of being watched, and her blue eyes began to search the kitchen frantically. Her heart beat quickly as she slowly turned in a circle. Out of the corner of her eye, she finally saw a shadow move near the window, but it had vanished by the time she was completely turned around. Only the slight sway of the curtain served as proof that anything had been there.

After staring at the spot for a moment, she shook her head in self-disgust. "Now you're imagining things," she told herself, taking a seat and placing a hand to her bruised head. "You're going to go completely insane if you don't stop this."

Leaning back in the chair, she took a deep breath and gathered her senses.

If nothing else, at least the empty apartment would allow her to practice her singing without interruption.

Mrs. Antonia Giry adjusted the rearview mirror of her SUV for a moment, attempting to get a look at herself before she stepped outside. Wrinkling her nose at her reflection, she examined her hazel eyes and brushed a stray strand of hair back from her face. She then turned the mirror to the backseat and focused it upon her daughter. "Meg!" she exclaimed with a slight Brooklyn accent. "That skirt is completely wrinkled! Why on earth didn't you run an iron over it? It looks like you just plucked it out of the hamper!"

"It looks fine, Mom," she replied, giving Christine an annoyed look as she flung the door open. "It was all I had this morning."

Mrs. Giry rolled her eyes. "There are going to be celebrities involved, and I would hate to see you not get the role for unprofessionalism."

Meg sighed and turned to Christine. "I really wish my mother was not involved in this," she whispered. "She seems to suck the fun out of everything. I'm nineteen, and she still is on to me about what I wear."

"What exactly is she doing here?" enquired Christine, self-consciously smoothing out her lavender blouse and black skirt. "You said she used to dance?"

"Yeah," replied Meg. "She used to be in a New York dance company before she met my dad. Now she volunteers with things like this, helping to organize them and stuff. I think she misses the stage sometimes."

Christine nodded and watched as Mrs. Giry walked ahead of them with her head held high. She had always been somewhat intimidated by Meg's mother, though Mrs. Giry had been nothing but kind to her. The forty-eight year old woman always had her mouth fixed in a stern line and frequently wore expensive designer dress suits. Though she worked in real estate part time alongside her husband, Mrs. Giry was often involved with the theatrical projects around the town. Christine even had a vague memory of her helping with a fifth grade play many years back. Except for a few more wrinkles, Meg's mother had not changed much over the years.

Mrs. Giry checked her watch. "You guys have about twenty minutes to spare before auditions, but you may as well go ahead and find the room. I need to speak to some people." She shook her head.

"Something wrong, Mom?" asked Meg.

"This event is so disorganized. It's going to be a miracle it they pull it off without any disasters."

"Not so loud!" Meg exclaimed through gritted teeth, glancing around. "Christine and I would like to at least have a shot at getting a role."

Mrs. Giry shifted her leather purse upon her shoulder. "I'm not being that loud, Meg." She began to head in the opposite direction. "You girls get going. I'll meet you out here later."

"Thank God that she's gone," muttered Meg. "She can be so anal about things like this. Everything has to be perfect."

"Yeah," replied Christine, distractedly looking around. It had been some time since she'd been to the largest live performance theatre in the city. She had seen several Broadway shows there several years ago, though tickets became too expensive as time went on. A red curtain cloaked the stage, matching the thirty-one rows of seats that stretched back. At the top was a three-sectioned balcony, featuring some of the cheaper seating. She looked around. "Where do we go?"

"This way," replied her friend, turning right. "I can feel myself getting more nervous by the minute."

Christine sighed as she turned the corner. "Tell me about it! I have no idea what I'm even doing here. There's no way I'm going to make it without some sort of divine intervention!"

"Maybe your ghost in the woods will give you a hand!" Meg laughed as Christine elbowed her. "I'm sure you'll do fine, Christine."

Mr. Reyer sighed as he watched the last girl filter out and the next one come in. Rubbing his aching temples, he attempted to put on a somewhat cheerful face. "Christine Daae?" he questioned, suppressing a yawn and looking down his list. "Number two fifty-four for the role of Magnolia?"

"Yes," she replied timidly.

The middle-aged man gave her a glance over as he did everyone else. She was pretty enough for the stage with her wavy blonde hair and angular face. The girl could have used a little more sun, maybe, but her cheeks had a certain rosy glow to them, and she had an innocent look that would do well for the lead. Of course, it all would come down to her voice. Mr. Reyer had seen dozens of girls who had looked the part but couldn't carry a tune to save their lives. "What are you going to be singing today, Christine?"

"Someone to Watch Over Me," she replied with a swallow. "Or if that's not okay, I can..."

"No, that's fine," he interrupted with a wave of his hand. Not a very creative choice but whatever. "Go ahead."

Mr. Reyer listened to her sing for a few moments, before very discreetly crossing her name off the list. She had a pretty enough soprano voice, but it certainly wasn't powerful enough for the stage. He had already crossed off girls with more talent than her.

"That will be good!" he called out in the middle of the song, eager to end the day. "We'll let you know how it comes out."

By the expression on her face, he could tell that she knew that the part wasn't hers. "Thanks," Christine said, her cheeks flushed as she quickly flew out of the room.

Mr. Reyer yawned and looked over his notes, before shuffling them together. So far, the only local girl who could handle the part was number one seventy-five, a girl named Charlotte Gregory. Though she wasn't the most amiable person, she did have the trained voice for the role. Her resume was long and detailed, mirroring that of a professional.

After circling Ms. Gregory's name in red ink, Mr. Reyer began to get up from his chair. He was stopped by a voice directly behind him. "I would suggest placing Ms. Daae back on the list."

Mr. Reyer started to whirl around, but a hand clamped down roughly upon his shoulder. "No need to turn around, sir. Just do as I tell you, and you will be fine."

"Who are you?" he asked, feeling his heart increase at the chilly voice.

"Put Ms. Daae back on the list."

"I can't!" panicked Mr. Reyer. "Her voice isn't trained! I'll be fired if she gets on that stage! Why do you care? Who the hell are you?"

The hand squeezed his shoulder bone to the point of pain. "You won't be fired. Besides, I can think of worse consequences if you don't put her name down. For the last time, do as I tell you."

Mr. Reyer winced but remained facing forward. With a sigh of fear, he picked up his pen and shakily wrote "Christine Daae" back onto the white sheet. Setting the pen back down, he waited.

"Very good, sir. I trust that you will keep our little conversation private?" Mr. Reyer had no choice but to nod and felt a wave of relief wash over him as the hand left his shoulder. When he whirled around to finally face his tormentor, he saw nothing but empty space. For a second, he considered taking the blonde girl's name off the list again. Or calling the police and telling them-what? He decided against both.