The Beauty Underneath ● The Phantom of the Opera

Chapter 23

◌The Shadow◌

My mask was back on the moment I was back in the walls. Julian might find my face stunning, but I held no tolerance for it. That is, anymore. Back when I was a child, I hadn't cared. I had run through the streets with my brothers, ignorant to the hateful and pitying stares I received. Mother loved me, deformity or not. Same with my brothers. So why shouldn't I love my face as well?

I was thirteen when I fell madly in love for the first time. And for a time, it seemed he felt the same way as I did. Andrew Elliott had caught my heart the moment I laid eyes on him. My brother had just tossed me across the stage, twenty feet off the ground, but I still managed to spot him. Miss. Fleck had scolded me for nearly killing myself for an hour, but my thoughts were of him and naturally, I heard none of the scolding.

The next night, he came back. I conceived Maurice to come with me to talk with him after our performance. Andrew hadn't seemed at all afraid of my face, but I was young and hadn't spotted the signs of cruel humor. Every night for the next two weeks we would hang out. He had even held my hand. He convinced me to give him and his friends free tickets to the shows and fair. I did everything for him without a second thought.

One night, I had gotten up the courage to tell Andrew that I loved him. He laughed and laughed and laughed. He told his friends who joined him in calling me horrible things and poked at my face. I took it, snot and tears running down my face. I took it because I was in denial that Andrew would say these things to me.

I had run to my father's study, where I knew he kept his extra masks and stole one. Of course, my ever-watchful father had caught me. He had demanded to know what I was doing and, like a good daughter, I told him. He had nodded once and let me go. I locked myself in my room, despite my mother's pleas, and didn't emerge until I had fashioned the mask to my liking. It hadn't come off since. Well, willingly.

That morning I stayed in the attic, just as Julian instructed. He thought it best that I stay hidden until this whole mess was forgotten. And by mess he meant the women I had killed. Just because Julian thought it had been an accident, didn't mean I thought so as well. I had shoved her. I had been so angry...but she was just a bully. I should have just slipped away. But I didn't and here we are.

The sound of some of the performers talking drifted up into the attic. They were too far away to hear, so I scooted over to the section of the attic they were under. But even then I could only make out snippets of their conversation. "Do you really think--Phantom--killed?"

"You heard what--The guy was crazy!"

"Well, I heard that he--freakshow--killed." The air in my lungs seemed to freeze. Were they talking about my father? And who was this guy they heard this from?