Wow, it's my sequel! Wasn't this quick?

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It had been three years since my coma, and things were normal as could be.

Well, sort of.

Mom and dad and Clair and everyone else were ubber happy that I was alright and that I went home only three days after... you know what, and I acted my part great, that I was happy to be home and all, except for a few things.

If you were an outsider looking in you could say that I was perfectly normal, and all good, but I wasn't. My heart had been broken. And by the very man who had murdered me.

When I was in my coma, for some reason unknown to man, my soul was taken back to Paris, 1870 where I lived in the Paris Opera House with the Ballet girls, Madame Giry, Meg and Christine. I had been hopelessly in love with Raoul, and insanely jealous of Christine until the night of the Masquerade. I met a seemingly perfect man, Francois, and he courted me up to the night of Jon Juan Triumphant.

I had asked Christine to trade places with me as to throw Erik off, and wound up in an underground lair cornered by Francois, who suffocated me, thus bringing my soul back home to the twenty-first century.

I should really have hated Francois, but when I think of him, my first memory is of the Masquerade, where he kissed me, but then I remember the murder, and try and push the goose bumps and exhilaration I feel out of my mind. But it comes back every time.

But how can I be in love with the man who killed me?

Some things I will never know.

But those feelings had begun to dull… up until the night I saw 'Phantom of the Opera' on Broadway four months later.

I had been so exited about seeing the show in the center Orchestra section, but after the intermission I felt sick, and all of the memories I had so carefully locked away, as to not feel the loneliness, had rushed back.

It was painful to watch the Masquerade and remember the love I had found and lost, and especially have to go through watching the graveyard scene and Don Juan. But it was terribly rude to leave during the middle of the show, so I stayed, but with my eyes closed, staring hard down into my lap, trying to keep back tears.

Since then I have given up my entire Phantom of the Opera collection; the books, movies, CD's, the whole nine yards.

I gave it all to Clair, who was delighted, but puzzled.

"Katey, this is your life! Why are you giving it all away?" She asked, astonished.

"Because, I realize that there are other things. Just please don't ask why."

And so she took the things, and never questioned me on the matter again.

Over two years had passed since then, and things had become normal, until just a few weeks ago…

I started having dreams, more like nightmares, about when I was back in Paris.

I saw little flashes of my old everyday life, and it was like watching an instant replay. But every time I would wake up crying, and they have been happening more and more often.

Just last night I had dreamed the Masquerade, which I'd been dreaming about the most often, and just after Francois and I had kissed, I woke up sobbing.

It was the best moment of my lives, and it made my heart break even more with every dream.

But the absolute worst part was that I couldn't tell anyone, because no one would believe that while I was in a coma I had traveled back in time to a Fictional Place with made up people. I would just be laughed at.

So I was left on my own to try and figure this thing out.

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Just a short little chapter.

Ok, seriously short chapter.

But it's just the intro. A little thing to catch you up to speed.

Hope you'll like this thing, though!