Chapter Two
The day had dragged on for far longer than she would have liked it to, but now that she was home snuggled deep within the folds of the fluffy cloud that was her sherpa lined blanket, the past hours seemed to just melt away. A long sigh drew out from her lips as she sank back into her couch, a steaming mug of hot chocolate gently cradled in her hands as she eyed the television suspiciously to try and guess what movie she had randomly selected for the night's entertainment.
She had figured it out in seconds, the telltale mass of shiny blonde hair and gaudy pink text on the screen immediately screaming 'Legally Blonde'. Christine smiled, chuckling quietly to herself as she mouthed the 'Delta Nu' chant she remembered to the dark empty living room. It wouldn't necessarily be a movie that she would intentionally pick out, but it was one she would enjoy nonetheless, and so she happily snuggled deeper into her blanket fortress and took a satisfying sit of the rich drinking chocolate in her oversized mug.
That was, of course, until her phone buzzed with the fury of a thousand suns- causing for her to jump, a holy fountain of the sweet winter drink raining down upon her as her mug flipped out of her hands, and she could only watch helplessly as the flood of chocolate came crashing down onto her pristine white shirt and favorite black and white checkered sweatpants. She sat frozen in disbelief for a moment, the buzzing chorus of her cellphone still ringing relentlessly from the table in front of her. This was not how she had planned her Saturday night to go. With an exasperated huff, she pushed herself off her blanket (which was thankfully untouched by the hot chocolate for the most part) and leaned forward, cringing as the sagging wet clothing squelched grossly, grabbing her cellphone and glaring daggers at the screen.
'Unknown Caller.'
Her expression of mild frustration shifted quickly into one of confusion, uncertain of who could possibly be calling her at nine o'clock at night- on a weekend as it were. Debating for only a brief second longer, she ultimately decided against taking it, and with the click of a button, the panicked buzzing of her mobile device ceased as she plopped it carefully back onto the coffee table. Only as she sat back down did she remember her ruined clothing and tragically spilled drink. Christine stood slowly, squeezing her eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath and switched off the TV in a furious silence.
What a day.
As she trudged miserably off to her bathroom to shower and change, she felt a weighted fog pulling at her mind, an underlying thought nagging at her consciousness as she let the warm water and calming pressure of the shower attempt to wipe clean her anxiety and hot chocolate tragedy that had just befallen her. Before she could even register what was happening, she felt her body start to shake slightly as tears began to well up in her eyes. Her surprise was quickly wiped away by a sudden and overwhelming weight on her chest, her head spinning as her thoughts swarmed her, stealing the breath from her lungs. She sobbed quietly into her hand as she leaned against the wall of the shower; the abrupt rush of emotion being too much for her.
Memories of the past year came flying back to her in frigid torrents of black and grey wind, whispering broken songs of intricately carved marble, silent prayers and fallen rain that seemed more like tears- the rolling waves of thunder carried with each crystalline drop more like shattered cries from heaven itself. First, it had been her mother, then her father…and now her dear Mamma Valerius. She was truly alone for the first time in her life- and she was oh so afraid.
Stepping out of the shower a few minutes later, her frantic cries gradually reducing to strangled gasps for air, and Christine caught a glimpse of movement in the mirror- her head snapping up to see the curious figure that stared back at her. It was an odd thing, its body thin but not too unhealthily so, a luscious head of chestnut curls draped across its shoulders, and an odd pair of shifty eyes that bore right into her- the dark circles that hung underneath giving the figure a slight ghostly air. Only as she raised her hand to it did she connect the form to its owner- and she could only watch in silent surprise as the movement of her hand was mirrored by the ghost before her.
A lump formed in her throat and she blinked, the world darkening both for her and the inhuman form she was watching. Her reflection continued to stare right back at her, and she felt as if she were caught in a spell cast by her own ghastly image. Its eyes seemed to be crying out something, but its message was muffled, trapped behind the mirror that separated the reflection from its originator. Although she couldn't actually hear what it was trying to say, she recognized the tormented fear in those familiar blue irises all too well, and it wasn't long before the words were echoing mercilessly in her head once more.
You're alone.
A beat.
Nobody wants you.
Christine felt her breath stop.
They died because of you.
"Christine."
The coffee that sat in front of her was most definitely moving. When it thought she couldn't see, it moved slightly closer to the edge of the table, determined to fall to its inevitable death if she didn't keep careful watch over it.
"Christine."
She needed this coffee, and the coffee needed her to keep watch over it. If she stopped looking then it would absolutely-
"CHRISTINE!"
Christine jolted upright in her seat, the table rattling in annoyance, and stared wide-eyed at the owner of the voice which had just hissed her name. It took her a minute to match the powerful voice to the delicate blonde that sat across the table from her, the light coming through the adjacent coffee shop window weaving delicate ribbons of light through her already magnificent locks. The girl sighed as she saw Christine's dumbfounded look, and as her friend continued to stare wordlessly at the blonde's hair, she decided to at least take a sip of her own cappuccino before it went cold.
"How much sleep did you get last night?"
Her question came as a surprise, spoken softly still, but was somehow just enough to draw the still transfixed Christine out from her blonde hair induced trance.
"Huh?" Came her unintelligible and essentially brain dead response, and judging by the look that her company gave her, she wouldn't need an answer to her question. "What was that Meg?"
"I said-" Meg huffed, pausing before waving her hand and taking another sip of her drink, glancing briefly with bored curiosity out of the window, "Never mind… Christine you know you're totally spacing out on me here, right?"
"Y-Yeah, sorry I didn't get much sleep last night." She stumbled slightly over her words, and Meg released an exasperated groan of defeat as she hid her face against the table despite the odd looks the other café patrons gave her- the irony of the situation unbearable this early in the morning.
"No shit." Now it was Meg's turn to give a muffled response, her voice quietened by the wooden table beneath her.
Christine grinned with mild amusement at the sight of her friend's concerned frustration, her eyes brightening for just a second as she let herself enjoy the moment.
"Hey, Daaé."
The pair's comical interaction was interrupted by a more stern, and even more tired sounding voice cutting over the gentle thrum of conversation in the café. Both girls snapped to attention, their heads turning to see one of the baristas at the counter motioning towards Christine with a lazy nod of his head.
"You're shift's up."
Christine sighed, reaching into her pocket and pinning her name tag to her apron, rising slowly from the table where Meg remained sat watching her silently. The brunette gave her a small smile in apology for her early departure before turning to wave her hand hurriedly to her colleague who was growing impatient at how long she was taking.
"I'm sorry Meg- I really wanted to be able to spend more time with you." She grimaced, clearing her still filled coffee cup from the table and wiping down the surface out of habit. "I promise I'll find another time where we can catch up, ok?"
Meg responded with a gentle smile, the kindness in her eyes laced with the soured glimmer of pity that Christine had grown to hate over the past few years. She wasn't one to want others to pity her for any reason whatsoever.
"It's alright, just let me know when you're free." Her usually sing-song voice had stilled to one almost of calm reassurance, her look of understanding causing for Christine's stomach to churn.
She's your friend and she's worried about you, that's all.
Christine took a deep breath, her smile faltering slightly at her lips as she nodded before quickly whispering a goodbye and rushing off to the kitchen before anyone would notice the rattling cup of coffee she held between shaking hands.
The air was biting, harsh and unforgiving as another gust of wind barreled around the corner of the street, smacking Christine square in the face. Her skin was flushed red from the cold and she was walking quickly with her hands shoved into her pockets, smothered in a scarf that almost spanned the length of her entire body to shield herself from the arctic barrage.
Her days seemed to be dragging on longer, and longer, becoming more and more unbearable with each setting of the sun. The sky had begun to fall into its deep blanket of darkness, the covers rolling over a city preparing for the night, but never quite falling asleep- and she was one of the many that remained stuck in-between the two worlds that were colliding before her, exploding a specular show of light melting into dark on the horizon.
Rounding the corner to her street, she spotted the dark and suspicious figure stooped over at her door before she did the tree directly in front of her. Panic sparking through her, she squinted and picked up her pace, opening her mouth to shout something before she collided suddenly with the immovable mass of maple wood and leaves that had materialized before her- collapsing into a helpless heap of shrieking winter clothing onto the unforgiving concrete pavement biting into her back. Huffing furiously, Christine scrambled back to her feet, her cheeks burning red no longer just from the cold as she frantically tried to sort the scarf that had just now decided to actually strangle her instead of keeping her warm. Out of breath and sore with her vision now restored, the livid brunette set to storm off to her door, ready for a confrontation when she found herself stopping only after taking a few steps. The strange shape had disappeared, leaving only a flat rectangular white object jammed awkwardly into her mailbox. With her burning curiosity triumphing over her more reasonable suspicion, Christine quickly found herself stood in the entryway of her home with the door closed firmly behind her, her bag abandoned on the floor as she held what had turned out to be a letter carefully up to the light.
'Miss C. Daaé'
Her name appeared to be handwritten on the envelope in a dark and precise cursive, her fingers tracing absentmindedly over the curls of her name in the glossy ink, admiring it as if it were a piece of art. The mystery of the note only deepened as she found, to her confusion, that there was no return address listed anywhere on the paper, and that her own address too, was absent. Her heart began to drum in her ears. What kind of letter had no return address? Forget that… what kind of letter was hand delivered? For a moment, she considered forgetting it entirely and reporting the odd stranger at her door to the police- after all, she had no idea who it had been. Then, that childish spark of curiosity flared to life within her again, and she couldn't help but wonder exactly what exciting peculiarity she may be missing out on if she were to follow her more rational train of thought… With bated breath, the air tensed with the sound of tearing paper, and Christine opened the letter.
'Juilliard.'
She froze. She had almost forgotten about her application, having submitted it at the very beginning of the season, and thought that she had been so insignificant to have not even been given the basic decency of a rejection letter. Well here it was, she thought sarcastically, eyeing the pristine white sheet of stationery before her. The building shrill whine ringing in her ears discouraged her from reading much of the intimidating mass of text, but from what she could pick out immediately was that they had gotten the degree she had applied for wrong. What she had intended to be an application for a Bachelor of Music in Violin, had somehow been mistaken for a Bachelor of Music in Vocal Arts. She snorted. No wonder why she had been rejected. Without even so much as a sigh of disappointment, Christine began to apathetically fold the paper back neatly into the envelope when she caught sight of six particular words from near the top of the letter, her fingers pinching the paper tightly as she froze.
'We are pleased to inform you…'
No, that wasn't right.
'…that you have been granted admission to the Bachelor of Music program at The Juilliard School…'
This had to be some sort of joke or horrible mistake… right? Christine blinked in stunned confusion, her face drained of all color as she continued to read, her gaze catching again on an additional paragraph added towards the bottom of the page.
'On a personal recommendation from someone in high regard at the University, I have seen to it personally that you receive a full scholarship for the duration of your studies here if you choose to enroll.'
A personal recommendation? Someone in high regard? A full scholarship? She hadn't even applied for a scholarship! Christine's head spun, the words rising off the page before her to dance before her eyes, her chest rising and falling quickly with each shallow breath she took as the meaning of what she had read just began to register in her mind.
'Sincerely,
Nadir Khan
President'
Then the reality of the situation hit her.
The President. The President of Juilliard had written, signed, and sent this letter to her. To her. Christine Daaé. To inform her that she had been accepted into one of the most prestigious musical institutions on the planet. To inform her that she was good enough. That she was wanted.
This wasn't a rejection letter.
The words on the page below her began to blur together, her hand coming to her mouth to muffle her sobs as she sank to her knees in the hallway, clutching the letter in an unsteady but firm grip as if her life depended on it. This wasn't real, this couldn't be happening- to her of all people! Once her breathing had evened out slightly and she was able to see past the still flowing tears, Christine cleared her throat and began to read the full letter out loud- desperately wanting to solidify the sacred words before her into reality.
When she had finished, an unfamiliar shaking ran through her body, her shoulders rising and falling and her chest hiccuping oddly as a strange sound echoed through the dim entryway. It sounded light, almost childish, and when she finally realized what it was, it rose in volume and she couldn't help but let herself smile- truly smile as she heard the sound of her own laughter rising in her chest and sounding out into the cold darkness around her. She closed her eyes, clutching the paper to her chest as her elated tears trickled slowly down her now flushed cheeks.
"Thank you."
Her words were whispered quietly to the surrounding empty space, her thanks heard by no-one, and everyone at the same time.
"Thank you."
And for the first time in years, Christine Daaé was truly happy.
For the first time, she had hope.
Author's Note :
Finally, we get to see Christine herself… with an acceptance from The Juilliard School no less! Within the next few chapters the main plotline will kick in and who knows… she may even meet someone quite peculiar indeed…
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