Oh my goobers! So many reviews!! (sniff) I feel so loved! For all of you readers good work, I shall give you MY work's fruit of a new chappy! Sorry it took me awhile, the internet died on me for two days so I couldn't update sooner...
DISCLAIMER: I am just a phan. I will never own Phantom of the Opera for myself. I have to share Erik and all his splendidness. (gets Punjabbed)
Lark shifted in her sleep, sighing heavily. Taking in a breath, she expected to smell the soft scent of rose of her usually white sheets. Instead, jasmine's heavy scent filled her nose, causing her eyes to water and for the child to sneeze violently. "Erik…?" she murmured, startled. Opening her eyes, she found not white sheets, but purple silk sheets. She sat up quickly in her bed…no, a bed. Her sheets slid off her body as she looked around, bleary-eyed. Her eyesight was getting worse, but not worse enough to the point to where she could tell….she wasn't at Erik's. Lark's heart started to pound as she looked around wildly. No, this wasn't her room, this wasn't even her house! She could tell because she had a window in the room with soft sunshine pouring through the matching purple silk curtains. "Oh!" she gasped with fright and pulled off her sheets, leaping from the bed to land on the soft, cream colored carpet. "Oh no, no, no." she whispered frantically, running to the window to peer at a lovely rose garden in a stone courtyard. "This…this isn't my home!" she gasped. Lark turned and looked around her new room with squinted eyes. A white desk with a purple cover sat near the door and a white wood wardrobe sat in stony silence near the window. The bed, with an equally purple canopy, lay next to a dove white side desk with a purple lampshade perched on it. A few paintings dotted the pale purple wallpaper.
The girl sank to the floor with shock. "Where am I?" she wondered out loud, wishing feverishly that this was another twisted dream. She turned around to touch the glass of the window with a trembling finger. "Erik…where am I?" she asked, hoping that he was also with her in this new place. A familiar voice came from behind her as the sound of the door creaked open. "You're in our mansion, mademoiselle." Whirling around, Lark felt her heart drop as Christine came into the room, smiling. "Good morning," she said cheerfully, though Lark could not match the woman's smile. "I hope you find your room comfortable." The child rose to her feet as Christine neared, pressing herself against the glass of the window. Seeing her discomfort, Christine frowned and stopped. "Are you alright, my dear?" she asked worriedly. Lark felt herself nodding but she opened her mouth. "W-where's Erik…?" The warmth left Christine's eyes as she replied coldly. "He is not here." Fear dripped into her soul as she stared at this beautiful lady. "Then," she began hesitantly, "Why am I here?" This isn't happening, this couldn't be happening to her! Not now, not when everything was so perfect… "Because Erik gave you to us, my dear." Christine said softly. Lark felt numb. No, impossible! Would Erik really give her away..? The woman crossed over to her and wrapped her in a light hug. "He gave you to us," she continued, "in hope you would lead a normal life."
The child was unmoving in her arms, tears of her guardian's betrayal rolling down her little face. Christine stroked her hair and glanced back at Raoul who stood at the doorway and gave a little nod to which he responded with a smile. "Then," Lark sobbed into Christine's dress, "He doesn't…want me?" Christine rubbed her head fondly. "No, my dear," she sighed, "he just couldn't take care of you properly." That was true, the child realized, she had to take care of Erik when she was living with him. But…weren't they taking care of each other? "Then…you're taking care of me?" No, Erik was, wasn't he? Lark couldn't figure it out anymore. Christine gave another smile. "But of course!" she said kindly, "Now, would you like to eat breakfast with us? I'll leave you so you can get dressed." Lark nodded absentmindedly and failed to notice when the woman released her and shut the door behind as she left. "He….left me." She whispered brokenly, "He doesn't…want me? Does anyone want me anymore?"
O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Lark made her way timidly into the dining hall, her long skirts of her new dress nearly tripping her. It was difficult to find her way through the halls with her now feeble eyes, and even more confusing trying to remember each and every hallway. Just in case. A maid had helped her find the dress she wore and the small woman had silently tugged, pulled, and fussed over the child's now long hair into some sort of style. Eyes watering with pain as the hard bristle brush ran through her unruly hair, Lark managed to sit perfectly still on her seat, concentrating only on her reflection that seemed to dim with every tug of hair. But now, even with candles burning brightly on the table, and widows wide open letting bright sunshine through, the dining room was still dim in her sight. Raoul was absent from the table but Christine was there, taking a sip of hot tea. "Ah, Lark!" She greeted her cheerfully, setting down her teacup. "You look lovely." What did it matter if she looked lovely? Lark's face remained expressionless. "Thank you," she murmured softly, though the child felt no gratitude towards the woman at all. She only felt alone, so alone. Christine gestured the chair next to her. "Here, why don't you join me?" Lark hesitated, but crossed the room to seat herself at the table. "Again, thank you." She said.
"I imagine you must be hungry," Christine said politely, "Is there anything you want to eat?" Lark's stomach remained silent as her mind wandered to what Erik told her, what seemed a century ago. "I don't really eat, you see," he had said, "it takes up too much time. You really don't need to eat so much." Here Erik had shook his head with disbelief, "There's actually a tea time…Crazy English." Her limp lips curled slightly in a small, hidden smile. Christine smiled back, encouragingly. "How about an orange?" she asked, nodding her head towards the bowl in the center of the table. "They're very ripe." Lark's smile was wiped away and replaced with her expressionless look as she plucked up an orange and started to peel it, juice running down her fingers. In a monotone voice the child asked with no curiosity in her speech. "Where is the Vicomte?" Christine sighed and leaned forward on her elbows, looking out one of the windows. "My husband," she explained, "is out doing business. Though, later today he will pick up some materials for you." Lark looked at the woman with a slight glimmer of shock in her eyes, placing an orange slice in her mouth. "Why are…you doing this for me?" she asked once she had swallowed the orange. Christine's lips curved into a pleased smile. "Because, Lark," she said cheerily, "we want you to be comfortable in your new home."
So this was to be her new home Lark realized with no emotion. Popping another orange into her mouth, she swallowed with difficulty as she squashed the tears billowing threateningly beneath her eyelids. She would not cry, anymore…she would be like Mama was after Papa died. Emotionless.
Ow...those Punjabs, I swear...ANYWAYS! Thanks for reading and if you have time, review and tell me what you think! Man, i will never finish at 60...oh well.