Escaping

The boy saw a large group of girls approaching the tent. They were followed by many other people eager to see the Devil's Child.

"Come, come, come inside. Come and see the Devil's Child!" said the gypsy. The boy knew that he would be harder on him because there were many girls in the audience.

Cowering in a corner would not help, he knew that, and yet, he found himself in the same spot he had been in on the first show. The sack slipped off his head and he heard scrams, gasps, and cruel laughter. This part of the show was something else that had never changed. The gypsy had picked up the whip. Then he felt it.

Searing pain went through his entire body when the whip came in contact with it. Laughter. Cruel laughter. He opened his eyes not knowing what he wanted to see. All of the girls were laughing… all but one. She looked a little older than the rest. A look of extreme pity was on her face. He wasn't very surprised. At some shows, there was at most one person who felt pity for him. But at most, there were none.

The terrible pain came again and again. He started to feel sick. His teeth were clenched, doing his best not to give them what they wanted: him to cry out. Then he heard another scream. Stupid girls, he thought. You've seen my face. Why scream now?

But he didn't see who had screamed…

Amelia couldn't stand waiting anymore. She picked the lock easily and came out of the room. She didn't even realize that she had screamed. Then she cursed herself for doing so. Quickly, she darted across the hall so she was hidden by the side of the tent. Amelia peeked around the tent and felt her chest tighten. Every time he got hit with the whip, she flinched. Hatred was boiling in her stomach, but she forced herself not to move until the crowd left.

One by one, the last of the audience left. There appeared to be many young girls. Most of them were laughing as they walked away. The final girl did not have a cruel face, however. She looked pitifully at the boy, and then turned to leave. There the gypsy was greedily counting the money, so vulnerable to anything because he was so absorbed in his money.

The boy pulled the sack back over his head and turned around. He saw Amelia and gave her the signal to wait. She nodded and watched. The boy grabbed a rope and slowly approached the gypsy from behind. Suddenly, he threw the rope around his neck and began to strangle him. Amelia watched in horror.

The boy called, "Go Mia! Get the keys!" She jumped, then ran over to the keys.

After hearing a thud, she glanced behind her. The gypsy had fallen to the ground. Her blue green eyes widened as she hurried back over to the cage. Amelia fumbled skittishly with each key. Five tries and nothing worked. Tears started to blur her vision as she heard other voices. She turned and saw the younger gypsy.

What was she going to do? He was going to hurt her; she could see it in his eyes. She needed a weapon to protect herself. What is that over there on a table? A pan… She picked the pan up and hit him hard over the head with it. He, too, fell to the ground. Unconscious or dead, neither of them knew.

"I can't do it!" she cried when she dropped the key ring. He reached through the bars and took her chin. "Look at me, Mia." She looked up at him.

"It's going to be okay. We're going to do this." She nodded and tried another key. It worked.

The cage door swung open and they took each other's hands. But when they came to the entrance of the tent, somebody was there. It was the girl. She looked bewildered; she had seen the whole thing. There were more voices approaching. The girl whispered, "Quick! Follow me!" They ran after her until they came upon a giant building. "In there." They slipped through a small opening against the bottom of the building and waited. The boy went first and then called her to come. Amelia did so, and he helped her down.

The two stood in an empty room that was a little cold. Amelia stood close to the boy, both frightened and confused. He held her hand protectively as he looked around the room. There were distant footsteps and the girl came running from a different direction. She was carrying a small blanket and handed it to them.

"My name is Marie. You can stay down here," she said breathlessly. Marie looked like she really wanted to help them, but she didn't know how.

As she began to leave, Amelia grabbed her arm. "Wait! Where are we?"

"The Opera Populaire," Marie said, and turned and left.

The two sat in a cold corner and didn't feel any freer than they did in the cage. Amelia fell asleep with the blanket on the cool floor facing the boy. He watched her as her chest gently moved up and down. After a while of just sitting there, watching Amelia and looking around, the boy fell asleep too.

The next morning Marie came down to see them, carrying some biscuits.

"Can you sing, dance, or play an instrument?" she asked Amelia.

"Well, I can play the violin…" she replied uncertainly.

"Excellent! Monsieur Reyer is in need of violinists!"

"Who–?"

Before she could finish her question, Marie was dragging her up many flights of stairs. They were walking so quickly, Amelia couldn't even admire the Opera's beauty. Then they entered a large auditorium. Marie walked up to a man sanding in front of an orchestra.

"Monsieur Reyer, I have found a violinist," she said.

"Where?" he asked hopefully, looking behind them.

"Here," she said, pushing Amelia towards him.

He stared at her for a moment, then he said, "This is not a youth orchestra, Mademoiselle! The youngest member is at least eighteen!"

"Actually," came a clear girl's voice, "I am fifteen, Monsieur Reyer." She was a tall slim girl with dark hair. There was a harp next to the chair she had been sitting on. Her clear blue eyes looked at Amelia and she said, "I'm Caitlin. Harpist." She smiled at her, then looked at Monsieur Reyer.

"We do need a little more youth, monsieur. And, this has been your only offer for a violinist."

After thinking for a moment he reluctantly said, "Alright."

Amelia was lent a violin and was told that she was to start in two weeks. "Thank you!" she told Marie when they were on their way back. "But what is he to do?" she asked quietly. "Sadly, I don't think there is anything he can do. I wish there was something." Marie left her, and Amelia met the boy. He was sitting, looking rather bored.

Amelia set down the violin case in front of him. He looked at it curiously.

"I play the violin in the orchestra now," she said softly. He didn't reply. She suddenly felt bad for leaving him alone earlier. She hesitated and then opened the case. Amelia lifted the violin out of the case and handed it to him. Their fingers brushed as he took it. His dark eyes looked at her for a moment, then gazed at the beautiful instrument. He lightly plucked each string, listening to the soft twang.

She was intrigued by the way he held her violin. He embraced it as if it were a small child. His dirty fingers rang along the edges of the mahogany wood. Without speaking, the boy took Amelia's hand showed her how it felt. Although she'd played for years and knew what a violin felt like, she found this sensation quite new. His hand was gently clutching her wrist and moving her hand along the back of her violin.

They sat in silence. "Let's explore," Amelia told him. He looked up. She grabbed his hand and put the violin in its case on the floor by the blanket. They went down a few flights of stairs. They were close to the bottom of the Opera. Then there was water. Trudging through the water, they finally came to a cavernous room. Unable to speak, they both just looked around. The walls were rocks, but it seemed nothing like a cave.

A while later, they were lying on the ground, looking up at the great ceiling. "We should get a boat," he said. "This could be our home," Amelia said dreamily.

The following two weeks, they went down to that cavernous space. Amelia would practice her violin before she actually started the orchestra. She would play old pieces that she had memorized. He would watch and listen, loving every sound of music she made. When she played in that room, every note would echo off the cave walls beautifully.

The day before she started in the orchestra, they were in the grotto again. The constant dripping of water enveloped them as they lay on the ground.

Sighing, Amelia said, "Can I say your name now?" He nodded. She smiled and sat up. He sat up too. Staring into his eyes she said, "Erik." He felt gooseflesh rise all over his body.

"I really do love that name," she told Erik. He took her hand and brought it towards his face. Then he took her index finger and placed it on his lips, under the sack.

"Erik," she whispered. He kissed her finger. She repeated his name, loving they way it rolled off her tongue.

They went back to the cold room where the blanket and violin were. Slowly, she crawled into his lap and he put his arms around her. He gently ran his fingers through her hair. Amelia closed her eyes and leaned against him. Within minutes she fell asleep. As smoothly as possible, Erik placed her on the ground. Then he lied down next to her.

She woke up with a start. Looking around, Amelia saw that he was asleep. "Erik," she said shaking his shoulders. He simply mumbled and rolled over. She grabbed her violin case and ran as fast as she could up the endless flights of stairs. There were so many and they slowed her down. Out of breath, Amelia ran through the doors of the theater. Her side ached painfully as she walked to her seat. A few older members looked disapprovingly at her. She simply ignored them and sat down to tune. So, she wasn't really late, but she needed to do her best.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen, we have one hour to go over a few places for the opera. Then, we shall have rehearsal with the cast for two more hours." Amelia sat there and stared at him. Three hours of rehearsing? She looked around at the rest of the orchestra. They didn't seem to be surprised at all. It must be normal to practice that long. She inwardly groaned.

When Monsieur Reyer handed out the music, she brightened up a bit. It looked rather difficult, but that's what she loved: a challenge. The three long hours of rehearsal went well, though Amelia's left shoulder and arms were very tired.

Once she returned home – that is, in the bowels of the Opera House – she played her favorite section, the ballet, for Erik. Afterwards the two went exploring again, but found nothing quite as special as their cavernous home.