Chapter Three

I was in the stables. My body leaned against the neck of a beautiful, black stallion, named Angelou- my father's horse. The horse whinnied quietly and I stroked his nose.

My eyes were red and my face pale, besides my cheeks which were flushed a bright pink. My cheeks were also a bit wet from tears falling down my face. I sniffed and moved, my sky blue dress brushing the dusty ground. I walked out of the stables and looked up at the sky. A few more tears fell and I wiped them away. The final I will ever shed tears, I thought. Never again, shall I weep. And I believed myself. After this, I thought nothing could be worse or make me cry more.

Reluctantly, I walked into the opera house. I was suddenly comforted by a sympathetic Madame Giry.

"Oh, dear," she soothed, her thick French accent hitting my ears. "Oh, oh, dear."

I pushed away from her softly. "Who could have done this Madame Giry? Who?"

Her cloudy, blue eyes looked away from me. She knew something, something no one else knew.

"What? You know?"

"No, my dear. I know nothing," she lied quickly.

I narrowed my eyes only slightly, studying her. "Please learn who would do this. Please. I must know," I pleaded.

She nodded and gave me a quick hug. "Now that your parents have passed, you can move into the ballet dormitories," she offered.

I shook my head. "I do not wish to be a dancer, Madame Giry. I will stay in my mother's room. I will paint backgrounds for money if I need to," I said.

"No, Emily. You need not pay to stay here. You are very welcome." She gave one of her rare, small smiles.

I did not return the smile, only nod and walk to my mother's room. Her body was not there, nor was my father's. There was a shattered vase, mirror and roses spilt over the carpeted floor. The roses had been trampled on and the petals were crushed. I picked one rose up and looked in the mirror. With a sigh I realized that I wouldn't amount to anything. I didn't have my mother's beauty or talent, or my father's bravery and audaciousness. I was just…me. The quiet girl in the corner, who only observes, not acts.

I turned to the shattered mirror. As I stared at the broken pieces still in the frame, or on the floor I could swear I heard music coming from behind it. "Behind?"

I slid it over, a few pieces of glass cutting my hand. I gasped in pain, but when I realized the mirror was a door my eyes widened. I stepped in quietly and curiously.

Rats and mice squeaked, scurrying over the floor. I leaped in surprise when one ran over my foot.

I turned when I heard the movement of cloth behind me. I saw nothing. My breathing deep and a bit stressed I walked on. My eyes looked around the passageway. I was beginning to become scared, but I got this far and decided not to go back.

When I came to a lake underneath the opera house I licked my lips. My mother had told me of the lake beneath the Opera Populair. Myself being me I had not believed her, but only laughed. I now took back everything I did that told her I didn't believe.

I leaned down and touched the water with my hand, but I shivered. The water was ice cold and it made the cuts on my hand sting. I suddenly lost my footing and fell. The water drenched me to the bone and I climbed out, my hair sticking to my pale skin. I shuddered and sniffed. I heard the music's tone grow louder, but when I saw a face in the shadows I ran. My wet dress was heavy and it was hard to run in, but I made it to the mirror eventually.

I shut the "door" and breathed deeply. I promised to return in the next day- oh I must be going insane! The death of my parents must have brought the insanity upon me.

I sneezed, shivering. My arms wrapped around myself I walked to my room.

Madame Giry caught me outside my door and looked at me, eyes wide. "Emily. What happened? How did you become so wet?"

There was no way I could lie. "I found a lake underneath the Opera Populair. And a hidden door in my mother's dressing-room," I confessed.

Madame Giry took my arm. "Let's get you out of those wet clothes. I have things to explain to you."

She took me to my own room and I changed into a dry nightgown. I sat down on my bed, still shivering.

She took a brush and slowly brushed my hair for me. It was tangled and knotted from my running and the water.

"Emily…" she sighed. "Your mother and father were killed by…the Opera Ghost."

I laughed. "The Opera Ghost?" I echoed in a humorous tone. "That's not possible. He doesn't exist."

"Oh, but he does. He exists just as I am now. Flesh and bone."

"You're…You're serious?"

"Yes. In fact, I brought him here," Madame Giry said. She quickly told me the story.

"But… How? How can he exist?" I asked. I just didn't believe it! A man…is living under the Opera Populair! It wasn't possible!

She shook her head. "His childhood is haunting and now he torments others as they did him."

"But the people of this opera house did nothing to him!"

"You think so, mademoiselle?" she asked, laughter in her voice.

I opened my mouth to reply, but stayed silent.

"He had been sending notes to your father. He ordered your mother step down from her position as leading soprano. Your parents refused and the Phantom of the Opera threatened them. They both refused once more and he did what he had to..." she muttered. "to save his opera."

"'His opera'?" I exclaimed. "My mother was leading soprano for a reason! And opera does not belong to him. He is insane and a murderer!"

Madame Giry nodded. "I hate to see what he has become, but there is nothing I can do to change him. Your parents are gone."

I sneezed and nodded. I must have a chill from that water. "I need rest, now, please, Madame."

She nodded. Madame Giry was now like my adoptive mother. She was always very sweet towards me and I was rather good friends with her daughter, Meg Giry.

She left the room and I looked around the room. The picture of the face I had seen in the darkness would not leave my mind. Could it have been him? Could it have been the Phantom of the Opera? I did not want to think so, but I had to admit that it was.

OoOoOoOoOo

The night past quickly- morning did the same. I dressed and ate. Then, I walked through the opera house. To my surprise I ran into Jude. "Jude! You're supposed to be in England!"

"I couldn't leave! Not with your parents' deaths," he said.

"But what about Aurora?"

"I wrote her last night explaining everything. She'll be fine," he replied.

I sighed. "Jude you must be with her. You're to be married in a week. Promise me you'll leave tomorrow morning."

He smiled slightly and shook his head. "I cannot promise that, Emily."

I chuckled. "Why not?"

He didn't answer. "I offer my condolences about your parents."

My smile faded. "Oh… Thank you, Jude."

He nodded and there was a silence.

"Well… I'd best be going," I said quickly.

Jude smiled and nodded. He turned and walked away.

I watched him go.

"Ah, Mademoiselle Durand!" A voice made me whip around. It was only the managers.

"Good morning, Monsieurs," I greeted.

"We hope you are feeling better this morning," Monsieur Andre said, hopefully.

"Much." I smiled, but soon it died down. "Er… What can you tell me about…the Opera Ghost?"

They both froze. "Too much. You wouldn't want to know," said Monsieur Firmin, stumbling with his words.

"Oh, but I do!" Much to my amazement, I did! I wanted to know about the mysterious man.

"Some other time, mademoiselle," Monsieur Firmin said.

"Just a bit, please," I insisted.

They shook their heads. "No."

I sighed. "Alright. Well… Thank you for your time," I said.

They nodded and walked away, conversing about something.

When they had left I hurried to my mother's dressing room. It hadn't been touched- the glass still on the floor, the roses as well. I opened the mirror "door" and climbed into the passage once again. This time, there were dusty torches lit, cobwebs climbing about them. "Strange…" I muttered.

I came to the lake again. I watched my footing so that I wouldn't fall again. I strained my neck to see where the lake led, but I ended up only causing pain to my neck. I rubbed the back of it and turned.

I came face to face with a dark man. Half his face was bare, the other half covered with a white mask. His cloudy, green eyes stared into my pale hazel ones. My breath was caught in my throat.

"You shouldn't be here," he said. His voice was…soothing, strangely enough.

I gulped. It seemed as if I had lost the ability to talk. My eyes wide and scared I didn't dare look away.

He didn't say any more.

Finally, I found my voice. "You…" I breathed. Tears welled in my eyes (something I hoped wouldn't happen). "You killed my parents. You killed Joseph and Collette Durand…"

He looked away from me to the lake, still silent.

My legs were cold as ice, but I found strength and ran, pushing past him.

But his hand grabbed my arm and tugged me back. "Do not run from me, child!"

Tears fell from my eyes in fear. What was I going to do? "Let me go, please."

"No…" he muttered. The Opera Ghost did not give a reason. I wanted to ask him why, but I was afraid he would only hurt me.

His grip on my arm tightened and I gasped. "Please…" I sobbed. With my free hand I wiped tears from my eyes.

His gloved hand reached up and wiped more tears from my face.

I stopped crying and looked up at him, stunned. He was so gentle, yet so fierce. How could one person be both?

He narrowed his eyes and the next thing I knew, I was falling into blackness, the picture of his face fading from my vison. I felt nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing.

I like this chapter better than the others. What do you think? Review, maybe? ;)