A/N: I haven't gotten any reviews, but I'll still update my story. I'm interested to see where it's going to go.

A few weeks after Philippe told me of the Phantom, I heard my parents arguing. I had never heard them argue before, had never even heard them talk together for very long.

The night of their argument, I couldn't sleep. While I lay in my bed, struggling to keep my eyes closed, I heard loud voices coming from the sitting room. Curious, I crept down the hallway, crouching near the door to the room. My father was angry. I could tell from his voice.

"You can't?" he shouted. "What does that mean? Of course you can!"

"I can't, Raoul," my mother whispered, sounding close to tears. "I can't sing. There's no music left. It's gone."

"It can't be gone!" my father said desperately. "The Duke requested it! I can't ignore his request! It will ruin me!"

"I'm sorry," my mother said, her voice cracking as the tears came.

"Sorry!" my father spat in disgust. "Sorry!"

I heard a door slam and my father's footsteps recede. Then, I heard my mother's quiet sobbing. I was about to try once more to sleep when I heard her speak.

"It's gone," she sobbed. "The music…."

She kept crying as she spoke, rendering her words almost unrecognizable. I heard her say "gone" and "music" some more, as well as a strange word, possibly a name. Eric was what it sounded like. Who was Eric?

I didn't get much sleep that night.

A few days later, my father announced that we were moving to his family's house in Paris. I was horrified at this news. We were leaving the country estate, my home for so long. How could I leave the gardens, the forest, the village, Philippe?

After he told me what was going to happen, I fled to my room and cried, sobbing for all the injustice I felt, the sorrow at having to leave everything I knew and loved. How could he do this to me?

"Erica?"

My mother must have heard my sobs. I turned my face away, angry that she could let my father do this to me. She sat down near me and stroked my hair. Her kindness made me start sobbing again.

"It will be fine, Erica," she said quietly. "You might like Paris. Besides, it makes your father so happy that we're going."

It was true. I had never seen my father so excited as when he announced that we were moving. His face glowed as he described the joys of Paris, the high profile people that he was sure we would meet, the elegant parties we would be invited to. However, his happiness didn't lessen the sadness of leaving.

I faced my mother. "How can he do this to us?" I said. "I like it here. I don't want to leave!"

"Oh, Erica," my mother said sadly. "I'm sorry."

I turned away, hardly hearing her leave as I started sobbing again.

A/N: OK, not very long, and not terribly interesting. Hopefully, the next chapter's a little better. Review please!!!