May 25th 1882
Marie grew flustered as the figures of the two women disappeared out of sight – what was she going to do? She picked up a pocket watch that must belong to one of the other servants and tried to remember what each Roman numeral stood for. Squinting close to the glass, Marie saw the hands make out the time – about a quarter to five. A few hours more, and it would be dark outside. Marie was a young woman, too; she knew how dangerous it could be out alone in the streets of Paris once the cover of night emerged.
As Marie suddenly though of all the scenarios her Mistress could end up in - none of them ending well - she remembered the older lady she seen the blonde-haired girl enter with. Marie tried with all her might to remember the appearance of the woman: she'd been wearing a deep indigo dress and had her ink-coloured hair had been pulled up in a bun.
With this image in her head, the young maid rushed back into the crowd of guests who chatted enthusiastically to one another, blissfully unaware of the problem.
As Marie tactfully weaved between groups, she ended up colliding into the very woman she'd been searching for, although she had not remembered the stern look that remained fixed upon her face.
"Watch where you're going, child,"
The woman's voice was not gentle, but Marie heard no acidity there either. As the lady made to walk past her she quickly stepped in front of her: "Wait!" She realized how loud she'd spoken as the woman gave her an angry look. "Apologies, I didn't mean to be rude… But I need to talk to you M…Madame."
She hesitated for a moment as Marie looked to her pleadingly. Obviously the look gave the woman enough of a reason to believe there was something wrong, for she followed Marie out back to the kitchen before gesturing her to explain.
"You were the lady accompanying the blonde girl here, Madame?" Marie questioned.
"Indeed. My daughter, Meg," A sudden flash of panic showed in the mother's eyes. "Has something happened to her?"
"Madame, I don't know if you happened to notice the absence of your daughter at this get-together… I'm almost certain that not so long ago I saw your daughter, the one in the red dress, leave with my Mistress."
"Christine!" The woman hissed before turning back to the maid and taking her by the arm. "Why on Earth would my daughter be dragging her heavily pregnant friend out to the streets of Paris?"
Marie shook her head in panic, her eyes filling with tears. "Please, Madame, I have no idea. I only wanted help," She whimpered.
Madame Giry stopped for a moment as she really began to look at the girl for the first time, and was shaken by how much she resembled her daughter. The dirty blonde bun was only a shade or two darker than Meg's waves, her watery eyes a deep brown that exactly imitated her daughter's.
"Madame?" The timid voice brought the older woman back to her senses. She took the girl by the arm once again and headed straight for the door, pulling it open with a sense of urgency.
"We'll find them, girl, don't you fear…"
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Christine's feet began to ache from all the walking. As far as she could work out, Meg had dragged her along for at least an hour and the light was beginning to dim with every passing minute. Even at the Opera House, all the ballerinas had been told to be out as young women without a man accompanying them after dark was a death sentence in itself. With this thought, Christine shuffled closer to Meg and asked how much longer they'd have to walk.
"Don't worry, I'm almost certain it's a matter of minutes away," Meg tried to sound confident but the "almost" had ruined it for Christine, who took to gnawing at her lower lip. In an attempt to pass the time, Meg inquired: "I don't want to pry, but… Well what actually happened that night Christine? You know, the one with Erik? I mean… What did you talk about?"
Christine tried to recall everything, deciding how much was really necessary to tell. "Well, I went to the warehouse and he was the first to speak. At first, he seemed emotionless but after one mention of Raoul he got angry… It only stopped when I called him an angel and the anger began to fade. He broke down in front of me, tears streaming down his cheeks – I'd never seen him close to this before. I suppose the vulnerability drew me to him, I comforted him, I felt close to him… so, I kissed him."
Christine heard a sharp breath from Meg at the mention of this and she sighed. "I know, I was still engaged to Raoul and it was wrong of me to do so. But I couldn't help it, Meg. I was like a moth drawn towards the flame of a torch."
Meg nodded as though trying to understand her logic. "So what happened once you kissed him?"
"Erik pulled away; he looked as though he couldn't understand why I would do such a thing. I told him I should've done so sooner…" She paused, reflecting on the events of seven months ago. "I suppose it was true, Meg. From the time I first sang at the Opera House, it felt like I was in a dream. Then, my debut in Hannibal brought my angel forward to see me, and I finally learnt it was reality - even the misfortune beneath his mask. I was afraid at first, Meg. I thought his face was something I needed to be saved from; and I believed Raoul was the one who'd save me."
Meg's brow crinkled. "Isn't that kind of what happened though, Christine? I mean, the Phantom was seemingly a threat and Raoul's support was exactly what made you feel protected."
Christine slowly shook her head. "There was never a danger in the first place, just an unusual relationship that was accompanied by feelings I failed to interpret – I never did until that night. I finally achieved closure…"
"Hate to interrupt," a husky voice caused both girls to start as they were forced to stop by two pairs of wide shoulders. The muscled arms attached soon grabbed Christine and Meg by their wrists, pinning their arms to their backs with such force that the little blonde ballerina couldn't help but whimper. The man behind her, who only found this amusing, gave a brief yank on her forearm and chuckled at her pained expression.
"Now, now gents – this is no place for needless violence," Christine squinted as she tried to see the face that belonged to the voice. As though reading her mind, another bloke, similar in size to that behind her, stepped into the light with a smirk spread across his lined face. His eyes slid up and down their figures, the expression growing greedy upon examining Meg, before he waved a hand to bring forward a further three men whom Christine had failed to notice. "Well, ladies, we can do this the easy way or the hard way…" He took a couple of paces forward and placed a dirty hand under Meg's chin, tipping her head up with a sharp jerk. "Give me all your little trinkets, anything which might take my fancy, and then I'll let you walk away from here without a problem."
After a pause, the man, supposedly their leader, gave a snap of his fingers and Christine watched in horror as the three men in front of her drew knives from their pockets. Just when she thought it couldn't get worse the front man slowly drew out a pistol from beneath his waist band causing her to gasp in terror. Upon hearing this, the man turned his head to stare at her and slowly a wide smile grew from ear to ear; he grew menacingly closer but Christine couldn't tear her eyes from his vile expression. He sandwiched her face between his filthy hands after placing the gun back in his waistband, causing Christine to scrunch her nose in disgust – not that he cared.
"Would you look here, boys? We got a real upper-class lady here," He laughed openly with the rest of the men before leaning in till his hot, stinking breath swam around her senses. "You're that de Chagny fellow's wife, right?" He looked down and brought one of his paws down onto her abdomen, causing the child to kick in protest. "And there's junior…" The man turned back to look her in the eyes again with a smile. "Bet you've got some pretty ornaments on you, right?"
Christine froze for a moment, till the man raised his eyebrows, impatient for a response. Attempting to straighten up, she narrowed her eyes in a gesture she hoped would explain itself. "Of course not, I'd be a fool to carry such objects with me…" She stopped as an open palm made contact with her right cheek causing her to screech in shock more than pain. She turned back to the leader with disbelief in her eyes, but only gained a slight smile in response.
"They seem to want a challenge, right, gents?" They all chuckled or grunted – responses Christine couldn't interpret in any case. The man now bent down to her level and gave a toothy grimace before giving the order: "We'll do it the hard way then. Search them!"
At the sharp command, Christine immediately felt herself being yanked upright further, whilst the man holding her finally brought up another rusting blade to her neck. Two of the unoccupied men began to search her, trying hard to get beneath her skirts and such. Christine shuffled in an attempt to keep them off as long as possible; the shouts of protest from Meg caused her to turn and see the horrid leader dangle a golden pocket watch in front of her now sobbing friend.
"Please, sir, please!" Meg was hysterical as she shrieked for her loss. "It's my father's watch, sir, please! It's all I have of him!" The young blonde girl tugged with all her might to get out of the grip, to somehow snatch the watch back but no such thing happened – the watch disappeared from sight and Meg's shrieks echoed in the alley. Christine suddenly felt a breeze as the man below her suddenly threw her skirts in the air: the final straw.
Christine swung her leg back, knocking off balance the man who'd held her in his grip, before letting it swing forward into the pervert's head, and she watched as he fell back in agony. Her eyes darted for the third man but before she could find her final attacker she felt complete agony cross her entire right side. She turned to see the man as he lifted a blade with ruby droplets trickling down the handle – she would've wondered where it came from had she not looked down to find a deep scarlet stain upon the pale blue material. Christine felt her knees buckle and she gave in to the temptation to collapse in pain, clutching to the wound that had gone straight through her at the hip.
The next part was all a blur; Christine felt her head pressured as though forced to the ground, no doubt by the recovered men she'd kicked out at. She could hear Meg's screams of disgust and a further struggle as her friend no doubt tried to get herself free to help – but as Christine's vision continued to let the fuzzy black ring hovering at its edges close in, her thoughts turned to the child. She clutched her stomach whilst trying not to shift on her wound and immediately knew something was different: the peace she felt when cradling the bump was now replaced by a dread.
Christine finally gave in to the sensation and blacked out completely, but before falling unconscious her senses allowed her to note the damp sensation she felt around her upper-thighs…
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Yaay for two new readers xD I'm hoping the new categorizing of this story will help get more people who want this kind of POTO stories reading it so please make sure you review this and help me write in the right direction (:L)
Hope you guys are enjoying the drama so far and that it isn't to cliché or anything, I'm trying to keep this unique and semi-realistic (for a fictional story ;D). Don't expect another chapter after this for maybe a couple of weeks or so? I'm really sorry but I have some important exam stuff going on and that could well affect my chapter writing (I've got a short break coming up so I'll use that to my advantage)
Anyways, thanks to TheAustralianZombie as always (: