Usual Disclaimer- I do not own Phantom of the Opera or the characters in it. Except for my own OCs. Sorry for the wait, but I lost my plan so I had to improvise this chapter. Enjoy!
Nameless
The sky was a dusty blue, with rays of orange-red seeping through the clouds like blood from a wound. The air smelt metallic like a coin, but Amelia knew that smell too well, she dealt with it often, the smell of blood. She eyed the body on the stretcher covered with dry blood. The eyes were lifeless and frozen with terror and the face mutilated beyond recognition. A sheet was quickly placed over it, the policeman apologised for allowing a 'lady' to see such horrific crime scene. Amelia rolled her eyes, she was used to dead bodies, unlike the dim-witted idiot in front her who obviously was squeamish to blood.
She was a doctor, a healer, young but experienced enough to save some lives. For more difficult procedures, she brought the patients to her father who had decades of experience. She had been called in early to check up on a patient, at the Opera Populaire, the Prima Donna to be exact. Amelia stopped suddenly, something had just registered in her mind, she had seen those injuries before.
The sky was black, like ink, there was no moon, no stars, nothing ;just total darkness. It was the stroke of midnight yet the young girl Amelia was still up with her father treating a patient. Amelia had seen him staggering from the darkness and she knew something was wrong. He smelt of metal, of blood, they can see it trickling down his face and arms. Amelia and her father simultaneously gasped, how was it humanly possible to do this to someone else? The left side of the boy's face was lacerated with knife wounds in a pattern of what seemed to be like veins. What really surprised them both was the boy's left eye was red and his right eye was black.
The Prima Donna's dressing room came up in sight, Amelia reached out to open the door, when it suddenly opened and a blurred shadow dashed out, crashing right into Amelia.
"Watch where you're going?" Amelia yelled, swatting him away like a fly. The young man quickly apologised before darting off again. Amelia froze...The eyepatch, Can it be? She turned around quickly hoping to catch a glimpse but he had already gone.
Remembering her purpose, Amelia picked up her belongings and walked back into the Christine's room. The diva didn't look well, she was paler and sicklier, she had dark circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep and her delicate hands were covered in bruises.
"Christine? How are you feeling?" Amelia asked.
"Oh you're here, Madame Giry must have called you. I'm fine just..." Tears trickled down her face.
"It'll be alright, I promise you." comforted Amelia. "You have a performance tonight, so relax and just enjoy it."
"You don't understand..." Christine said in a small voice "Its complicated."
Unsure how to respond, Amelia quickly changed the topic. "By the way, who was that in your room before, the guy who walked into me?"
Christine wiped her tears "He's the new stagehand"
"What's his name"? Amelia sighed "Doesn't matter, that was five years ago, and I don't know his name ...anyways he reminds me of a patient I once treated. "
"He's name is Azrael ...it's a strange name but he reminded me of someone too" Christine too sighing with Amelia.
Azrael swore he was hallucinating. He was so sleepy, changing from his normal nocturnal sleeping cycles was hard. He was also starving, he hadn't eaten anything for so long; apart from the two apples he stole from some random stagehand. He was so sure, that he saw her. Stopping the urge to go back, he continued his way to his post ,still thinking about her; the girl who lit up the darkness.
The sky was a cacophony of colours, like an opal. People in their best evening gowns and suits flooded into Opera Populaire. The first opera since the restoration was about to begin. Erik watched as the seats slowly filled up, Box 5 was left empty like he instructed but this performance he would not be watching from the hidden compartment in Box 5. He had other things to attend to. He noticed the other boxes were full, the Noiret family was here. They were a very well respected family. Madame and Monsieur Noiret had two lovely children, Vincent who was now a young man and Adele still just a girl. It was known that they did have a third child. A son who was younger than Vincent but older than Adele. When the child was five, he died from a rare disease, thus the large difference of age between Vincent and Adele. However the name of the child was never known, it seemed too cruel to bring it up again. When they didn't show up, a month after the incident, gossip started spreading like wild fire, so quick that even Erik knew.
The torches at the bottom of the stage were being lit, the lights dimmed and the muttering slowly died away. The orchestra began to play the overture and then the crimson curtains opened.
At his post above the stage, Azrael took off his eye patch, letting the light sensitive red eye slowly regain its vision. He could see the entire audience from here, he search around for her but she was not there. Up in the boxes, he did single out a familiar face, a family of familiar faces. A middle aged woman wearing a dull red evening gown seated next to a middled aged man wearing a black suit. Red and Black. A young man in a similar black suit with a young girl in a ruby dreses. Red and Black. The Noiret Family were back.
Azrael fumed, Red and Black the two colours which ruined his life. He knew the truth about the Noiret family, he knew the horrible truth which they have kept hidden for fifteen years. With his red eye burning with rage and his black eye fueled with hatred, he glared at them...the mother who left him nameless, the father who abandoned him, the brother who despised him and the sister who didn't even know he existed.
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