A/N: Hey everyone! Next chapter, hope you like! I should have more time to update, it being Fall Break and all! But I'm leaving this Thrusday out of town, so I doubt I'll be doing any updating then. Oh well, I have a few days before then, so I hope to get at least on more chapter up. Tell me what you think! This is chapter 9-10 because I had to fix the chapter numbers from having the previous one 8 1/2. In other words, I didn't want it to say "10: Chapter 9." If you understood that, then good. If not, ignore it completely.

No reviewer replies right now. I'm just trying to get the chapters up. Oh, and you WILL be seeing a plot here soon. I know, I know. I've said this before, but it's TRUE! I hope you'll like it! So...

READ, REVIEW, ENJOY!

9-10

Rumors and a Fight

Amy stepped out from the dark passage and into the hallway, body chilling as it was still slightly damp. Small, nearly blue fingers clutched more tightly around the Phantom's cloak as she breathed out a delicate breath of air. Turning, the girl was slightly surprised to find the Opera Ghost and all traces of a secret corridor completely gone. Slightly. Her eyes drifted over the dirty, old wallpaper covering an ancient - and probably rotting - wall; piercing green orbs scanning every splintered niche, every mildewed strip, every brown and crusty flower that could have once been called 'elaborate' and 'beautiful' when the design was first put up, but was now grimy and disgusting.

Her breath came out in one warm gust, visible like smoke as the cold darkness enveloped her. Amy shrugged stiffly, turned on her heel, and strode confidently towards the ballet dormitories. Of course, if one had ever observed her normal pace, you could tell she was slightly shaky and her steps were timid, as if her foot would fall through a trap door if she were to put too much pressure on the floor.

She pushed the old wooden door open - the hinges creaking and some rust from the handle rubbing off onto her hand - and blinked a few times, surprised to see multiple gas lanterns lit and all the dancers of the corps de ballet, including La Sorelli, huddled around a single lamp in the center.

Sorelli, of course, sat atop a rather plain chair, higher than the rest of the girls who stared up at the "Mistress of Stories" with an awed stupor in their eyes.

Of course, Amy had walked in right in the middle of story time.

"...swore he had never seen such a thing as that. Why, even John - you know, that stagehand with the shaggy brown hair and handsome features? - vouched for him. And he is always the sensible type!"

The dozen or so girls crowded around her nodded their heads in agreement.

"Of course, I didn't believe him at first; it sounded so absurd! But, on my way towards the stage for practice, I saw them with my very own eyes! There he was, the Opera Ghost in all his frightening horror, standing in a corner of the hall, his back to me. Like black fire, his cloak lashed out around him, slapping against the wood of the wall and - to my horror - the sickly pale body of Amy! His luminescent eyes burned like fire as the poor girl struggled from- or, more than likely, lusted for, seeing as I was close enough to tell that her sinful eyes held a fire far distant from fear -his attentions."

"She couldn't have enjoyed it...could she?" cried Celine in a timid and unbelieving voice.

Sorelli glared at her angrily. "Of course she could have, the little wench! In fact, I am of the mind that she only hesitated to go with him for the sake of our emotions towards her dignity. Why, if she is not yet dead, she is probably down there right now, enjoying -"

"Ahem," Amy cleared her throat, one slender white shoulder resting lightly on the doorframe, her right leg crossed lazily over her left ankle.

"Amy!" gasped the members of the corps de ballet, all eyes falling on her, watching as she pushed away from the door and strode smoothly over towards her cot.

There was an awkward silence in the room for a long time, until the ring leader of the girls broke it.

Sorelli jumped up from her seat, hands clasped in front of her, and ran over to the girl with the jet black hair. "Oh, Amy! How happy I am to see you alive!" The Prima Ballerina should have left it at that, but her ignorance - mixed in with a little frustration at having her story both disrupted and disproved - made her go on. "Who would have thought the horrid ghost could be so merciful as to let you go? Ah, you probably just didn't please him as he thought you might. But, tell me, will you see a doctor soon? The sooner you get medicine to prevent your pregnancy, the better!"

Amy gave the insolent woman a look that screamed drop dead, but luckily the selfish ballerina's attention had already been diverted to another person.

"Doctor? Medicine? Sorelli, my naive little - " Amy had to smirk at that. She knew how much the Prima Ballerina hated being reminded of her superior height. " - friend. I'm not having a child."

"But...but..." It was the first time Sorelli had ever shown weakness towards another member of the ballet.

"But what happened, then!" cried Kayla, her eyes gleaming with the hope for another tale.

In fact, Amy noticed as she looked at each individual girl, each one had the same look in their eyes. But no stories tonight, she resolved. It was...painful, to say the least, and for once she didn't want these girls nosing around in her business. So she did the only thing she could think to do at the moment. Lie.

"Oh, I escaped. Had a terrible time of it, too!" Her voice was soft but held just a tiny note of sarcasm and bitterness. She couldn't help but let it slip through. They didn't even care that she might be mortally wounded! They only wanted another bit of gossip to spread around the next day! Like starving dogs begging for food, they whined and complained, asking for more and more and more! It was enough to drive the green-eyed woman insane!

"Simple, really," she continued, thinking fast. Oh, surely she would die for her deceit! But at the moment it didn't matter.

"When he least expected it, I slipped away from him and ran through the labyrinth underground. At some point I lost him, and I had been wandering the tunnels, trying to find my way back up ever since." There, that sounded convincing! Now to get a little shut eye...

Amy was already turning around, her back facing the corps de ballet, when she felt a small pressure on the edge of her cot and looked to find Sorelli staring at her with a sly look.

Amy hated that look.

At the moment, she just wanted to slap it right off her face.

Yes, slap it off, toss it on the floor, step on it, throw it in the dirt and pick it up again to repeat the process.

"Then what's that," said the ballerina, pointing at the velvety black cloak laying atop Amy.

Uh-oh. Time for some crafty lying. "I...had fallen in the lake while traveling down there, and when I got back to the main floor I found this cloak sitting on a chair in the hallway. Since I was wet and cold, I took it. I'll return it in the morning."

The other woman gave her a stare that said yeah right, and looked at the cloak again. "It has the initials "O.G." stitched on the hem."

The other girls gasped in shock and crowded around the bed, staring from the cloak to Amy, then back to the cloak again.

Burning a hole in the wall opposite hers, Amy willed the oncoming blush to die where it lay, at her neck. "...so..."

La Sorelli flung herself from Amy's side and threw her hands up in the air. "Oh, come on, Amy! We all know you were down there with the Phantom of the Opera! You may not want us to know you were raped, but you don't have to lie!"

Okay, that was the last straw.

Jumping from her cot, Amy stomped over towards the Prima Ballerina and pointed one long, slender finger in her face. "I was not raped! So stop saying I was!" Pure hate glinted in her eyes as, in contrast, a small smirk appeared on her features at seeing the fear which flashed across her victims face.

Strange, how exhilarating it was to be in control of so much power.

That soon disappeared.

"Well," Sorelli retorted, rising on pointe to see eye-to-eye with the raging girl before her. "If you weren't raped, then why do you have such an attitude!"

"I could have you fired," she spit at Amy's face, a smirk of her own playing across her features.

"For what, decency? Well, it's more than I can say for you, friend!"

"How dare you!"

"You're one to speak of being raped, with your precious John Luc by your side. And in the hallway, too!"

"Take that back!"

"Why deny the truth?"

The ballerina lashed out, slapping Amy in the face and leaving three long gashes across her right cheek - compliments of the dancer's newly manicured nails. She had always liked them long, even if Madame Giry often disapproved.

Amy smashed her hand across the wounds, a small trickle of blood dripping through her palms. Even though the wound wasn't deep, it still tore the skin slightly, and would leave a scar - even if just a light one.

Shaking with rage, the previously bent over girl straightened up, her hand falling from her bloodied face. With nothing to stop the flow, a steady stream of red lazily made its way from the cheek down to her chin to drip off onto the stained wooden floors.

They would be stained a different color from now on.

Clenching her crimson-soaked fist, a small bit of that life-giving liquid fell from her hand and onto the floor beside the other tiny droplets.

You're dead, thought Amy without regret. The image of Sorelli's lifeless body sprawled across the floor - though disturbing her quite a bit - didn't even make her flinch.

But the unexpected happened.

"You're going to regret that," said a disembodied voice, making everyone in the room freeze. All - except for Amy, who kept her eyes on Sorelli at all times - glanced around in fear, trying to locate the source of the sound.

A flash of black and a glimpse of glowing white porcelain had all the girls scrambling to their cots in screaming terror.