The Beauty Underneath ● The Phantom of the Opera

Chapter 29

◌The De Chagny◌

I bit at my fingernails as I watched the clock and door. They hadn't let me go. They wouldn't let me help. God, it set my skin on fire. Granted, Maurice had made a plea on my part but it had been overruled. The great Opera Ghost didn't trust me so, therefore, I couldn't help. I wasn't the one who strung people up and burned opera houses to the ground. But what was my opinion worth anyway?

A soft hand grabbed hold of mine. It was Miss. Christine Daaé. Old age may have come, but it didn't hold her beauty back one bit. She looked like she could still go out and perform. Back at home, when I was little, I would sneak into my father's study and look at the old love letters she sent him and photos he kept of her. I had thought it was romantic. Still did.

"What troubles you, dear?" I pulled my fingers away from my mouth, knowing it wasn't proper to have such habits.

"I just--ugh--I want to help. I should be helping." A weak smile came to the woman's face.

"I see Raoul's passed that little trait of his down to you. The need to help people. No matter the danger." She patted my hand as sadness welled in my chest. It hurt to think of my father who was so close to his grave. The angel-like women leaned closer, gesturing towards the door. "I won't tell if you won't." I squeezed the woman's hand, thankful for her blessing to go, before rushing out into the growing night.