The Angel's Reality

Chapter One - The Audidtion

N/A: will be reposting chapters edited again.

Hello to anyone who chooses to read this!! This is my first fan fiction so I hope it's good! 😁

I do not own Phantom of the Opera or Erik, Christine, Meg, or Raoul, or any other characters from Phantom that I might use. I do own Summer, Ethan, Jewel, and Brayden. I also do not own any of the songs from Phantom of the opera that I might use.

I also do not own Love Never Dies or any of the characters from that. I also do not own any songs from Love never Dies.

Well, now that that's taken care of, I hope you enjoy my story!! Feed back is appreciated since this is my first fan fiction.
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  The horrific blaring of the alarm wakes me. Violently, my heart slams against my rib cage as I bolt from the dream world. Clambering out of bed and stumbling across the room, I begin to hit as many buttons on the alarm clock as my pale fingers can find. When the noise finally ceases, I plop myself down onto my shaggy rug at the foot of my bed. I peer through the darkness and fix my gaze on my bed, longing to be reunited with the soft mattress and warm blankets. Instead, I slump over till my back rests against the wooden foot board.

  Why on earth am I doing this?! I'm going to make a fool of myself!

  No Summer, you can't talk yourself out of this one. You promised.

  I let my head hit the wood lightly before I drag myself into a standing position. My light, nearly silent, footfalls carry me around my room. Spotting a lonely shoe, I replace it on the top shelf of the closet where it belongs, doing the same for its mate. To keep myself from crawling back under the warm covers, I wrap my chilly fingers around the soft fabric and pull the blankets tight across the mattress. Fluffing a few pillows, I prop them against the carved headboard.

  Satisfied with my work, I make my way towards the small bathroom of my apartment. I brace myself for the cold tile as I step across the threshold. Squeezing my toothpaste onto my brush, I steal a glance at myself. My elbow length dirty blonde hair is tangled into a frizzy mess. My grey eyes are framed with irritated scleras. My hair bounces along with my arm as I scrub back and forth across my teeth, ridding myself of the awful morning breath.

  Rinsing and discarding my toothbrush, I reach my left hand into the deep drawer where my hair brush lays, awaiting my use. We fight together through the tangled mess that lays atop my head. A few snags later, my hair is in decent enough condition to audition in. I wash my face with a warm rag to rid myself of the night before.

  "Today's the day." I whisper aloud to myself, while staring down my reflection. I consciously pull my shoulders back to better my posture. My tight tank top frames the love handles that begin my wide hips Leaning over the counter top closer to the mirror, I scan my face for any imperfection that may need to be covered. I prob my slightly too big nose with my pale pointer finger. I take a moment to gaze into my own eyes. The soft, grey, glowing orbs return the action. I glance up at my blonde locks, running my right hand through them trying for a swooped look. Satisfied as I can be with myself I return to a proper standing position. I suck in my stomach a little and give a parting glance to my reflection.

  I pivot on my heel and return to my large wooden dresser. Choosing a pair of jean capris and my old dance t-shirt, I dress myself. Reaching randomly into my sock drawer I pull out my dark gray "Potter Quidditch" sock, and a neon pink one with yellow bubbles. I've never much cared for matching socks. Who wants to watch the same color foot step in front of the other? After I slip them on, I wander into the small kitchen area of my apartment. Sliding some bread into the toaster and powering on the Keurig, I begin to actually start my day.