hello again! didya miss me? well i first want to apologize to my readers for the extremely long wait. i wont make excuses but im back and that's all that matters! here's the long awaited chapter 4. and with all the ideas i have for this story, a slew of chapters is sure to follow!

unfortunately, i do not own poto =[

A small girl sat huddled in the darkened chapel, a single candle lit. Her hands were clasped tightly in prayer; a small photograph of a woman lay on the floor in front of her. Hushed sobs echoed off the stone walls.

"Oh, Mama. I miss you," said the little girl sorrowfully. She sat there a little longer, gazing at the picture, the candlelight gently licking her dark curls.

"Why do you cry, child?" came a voice from right behind her. With a startled scream, she whipped around, eyes searching frantically for whoever had spoken. Nothing but darkness met her.

"Hello?" she asked tentatively. She heard a quiet rustle of clothing and she tensed. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a figure.

"Who are you? I won't hurt you. Please come out," the little girl said softly. She could tell the figure hesitated before slowly stepping into the dim light.

A boy stood before her. Older than her, she was for sure, but still a scrawny boy with dirty clothes and an old sack over his head. She stood and faced him.

"What's your name?" she asked. "Mine's Christine. Christine Daae." She did a proper curtsy like how she was taught back home before raising her eyes to meet the stranger.

Why did she not ask about the sack? Erik wondered. He could tell from her curious blue eyes had noticed it, but something refrained her from asking. Erik had lived in this opera house for almost ten years and he had never seen the girl before him before. Was she a new addition to the ballerinas?

"Erik." He answered shortly, unsure of why he even gave an answer. He knew better than to get close to anyone. They were all the same. They'd see his face and shrink away in terror and disgust. It was a feeling he knew all too well and he wasn't about to let it happen again. He began disappearing into the shadows.

"Wait!" Christine cried. She rushed forward and latched herself onto his dirty shirt. Erik tensed in surprise and narrowed his eyes at the girl.

"Let me go," he growled. Christine began trembling at his tone, but held firm.

"I'm so lonely in this opera house. No one wants to be my friend. Will you be my friend?" she asked hopefully.

Erik frowned. A girl many years ago when he was at the circus said the same thing. But when she saw his face, she ran from him, scared and horrified. The she had returned with the crowd, laughing and throwing money into the cage. It had been his last ray of hope in his dismal world, but that girl proved to him that no one could be trusted. Not even little girls.

"No," he snarled before pulling away and disappearing into the darkness. Christine stood there for a moment, a confused frown on her face.

"No one says no to being my friend, Monsieur Erik," Christine said, a devilish smile blooming taking over the frown. "And you will be no different."

Happy to have a new objective, Christine swooped up the picture of her mother, her previous woes forgotten, and skipped back to her dormitory.

Christine jerked awake at the sound of a knock. She was sweating, her sheets wrapped around her legs tightly, and her fingers clutching a pillow.

"Miss?" came a voice. "Your morning bath is here."

Shaking herself loose, Christine donned a robe and answered the door. A small girl and boy stood in the doorway, their eyes cast down. She smiled at them

"Thank you very much. Please come in," she held the door open for them. The girl set towels down on the desk and the boy set a large tin tub in the middle of the room. Soon, another boy followed in with a large steaming pitcher and began filling the tub.

"What are your names?" Christine asked.

"I'm Heidi," said the little girl. The boy who had brought in the tub fled the room quickly. Christine turned a questioning look to the girl. She shrugged.

"That's Jacob. He's skittish," she said somewhat affectionately. Soon, Jacob reappeared with another steaming pitcher.

"And I'm Caleb," said the other boy proudly, puffing up his chest, his eyes glancing back to Heidi. Christine laughed lightly.

"Well thank you Heidi, Caleb, and Jacob," she said. The three nodded and left quietly. Christine quickly walked to her wardrobe and picked out a deep purple dress. She lay out the undergarments and shoes for the outfit before undressing and slipping into the cooling water.

Christine sighed. It felt good to wash away yesterday and start fresh. She hoped today would be the day she was reunited with her friend, but she had a lot to do within the next few days. She had to secure a position at the opera somehow. Whether it be a singer or a composer.

She picked up rose scented soap and lathered it into her hair. She knew it would be a challenge to become a composer. Women these days did nothing of the sort. Already women of the opera house were viewed less than virtuous. But to her, her dreams came before her reputation. She chuckled to think of what her family back in England would say.

"What? You're writing operas? For an opera house? Oh, the shame," would say her aunt Beatrice as she swooned.

"What about the wealthy Vicompte de Chagny? Marry him and take up a life the way a respectable woman should," would order her other aunt Susannah.

"Yes, a respectable life bearing children," Christine uttered. While the thought of children thrilled her, it wasn't what she wanted to be valued for in the eyes of her husband. And the Vicompte was always less than pleasant to her. She had a feeling if she ever pursued that lifestyle, her musical capabilities would be smothered until they died out.

She shuddered and began rubbing jasmine oil into her skin. The water was cool, and she was anxious to present her work to the manager. She stood and dried quickly. There was much to be done.

Erik stood in the rafters, glaring down at rehearsal from behind a black porcelain mask. His discolored eyes glinted in the darkness. Carlotta was absolutely horrible. She sounded like a toad. The only reason the managers kept her around was for her beauty. But beneath her beautiful exterior lied a cold, vindictive witch willing to do anything to stay at the top. And from the recent crowds the opera house had scene, the public was beginning to notice.

His gloved hands gripped the knife steadily, hoping to perform out his plans quickly before Christine arrived. He had a plan to integrate Christine into the opera house and though the first step may be risky, he was willing to try it. If Carlotta would just take a few more steps…

Ah hah! With a flick of his wrist, the rope was cut, and the curtain was sent sailing down towards the screeching soprano. A burst of screams sounded in the opera house, and many cries of "the opera ghost! He's here!" flitted across his ears. Smirking, he disappeared from the rafters, knowing they would come searching for him soon.

Christine had been watching the performance with a small smile on her face. It was wonderful to see people she had known years ago grow and reach the positions they had wanted. Seeing Madam Giry standing off to the side, Christine began approaching her when screams burst out.

"Christine!" came a familiar shout. She felt someone collide into her and both of them went flying out of the way of the tumbling curtain. Dazed, Christine sat up, realizing her papers had been scattered about. Frowning, she turned to see who had been the cause, when her mouth fell open.

Raoul de Chagny sat up next to her, a relieved smile on his handsome face. And Christine saw that it was indeed very handsome, but the thought was quickly overshadowed by the remembrance of her dear papers.

"Raoul," she began. He stood quickly and offered his hand which she accepted. Once she was on her feet, she bent down and began gathering her papers.

"Raoul, what on earth were you doing?" she questioned angrily. Raoul said nothing, surprised by her obvious anger.

"Why, my dear, the curtains had come loose and if I had not been there-"

"Oh, save it Raoul. I wasn't prancing across the middle of the stage. The curtains wouldn't have hit me," Christine said impatiently as she began putting her papers back into her leather notebook.

"Here, let me help." Raoul said as he stooped and began gathering her music sheets. He paused, glancing at them in surprise. "Is this your work, Christine?"

"Yes," she answered shortly. She snatched them out of his hands, taking note of the obvious frown of disapproval. "Now if you excuse me, I have a meeting with the manager."

She swept away to Madam Giry, who had watched the entire encounter with a small smile of amusement. Raoul stared after her with a look of bewilderment and slight annoyance. His looks had done nothing to sway his estranged betrothed. Next time, he'll have to slather on the charm in order to get her to notice him.

He had noticed how much little Christine had grown. She was now a woman, well over the marrying age, but still young and vibrant enough to produce strong heirs. He had felt her luscious body beneath him when he tackled her, and the feeling of her curves against him had his blood racing. Oh yes, he vowed. She will be mine.

Erik had seen the whole ordeal. Right down to the lustful look in de Chagny's eye when he stood to help his Christine up. He took in her scattered music sheets and strained to get a closer look, but could not make out any notes from where he was.

Making a note to take care of the Vicompte later, Erik followed Christine and Madam Giry to the managers' office. He could faintly hear their conversation.

"The old manager was replaced last year," said Madam Giry, her cane clicking lightly on the floor. "These two new buffoons know nothing of how to run an opera house. But this might be of some use if you want to become a composer."

Christine nodded, understanding. She was nervous, her heart was racing. She could feel beads of moisture on her palms. As Madam Giry knocked on the office door, Christine began preparing her persuasion, gripping her papers excitedly. Suddenly, they heard a flurry of footsteps coming from behind them. Carlotta, followed by Piangi, brushed past them, leaving a wave of nauseating combination of perfume and body odor, and burst into the managers' office.

"I quit!" she shrieked.

there you have it! what do you think? i might be a little rusty, so no flames please! but other critiques and pleasant reviews are appreciated and encouraged!

LD