Daddy's Little Girl

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Copyright © RaddyMaddy

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"Angelique?! Where are you my silly wondering child?!" Christine said. Christine always called her daughter, Angelique "wondering child" because Erik would always called her that when she used to live in the opera house, but that was all in the past.

The one thing that worries her the most is the wrath of Raoul. Christine feared for her daughter's life more then her own. Nightmarish images of Raoul beating her little girl right in front of her eyes while Christine stood their helpless.

"Mama!" A soft heavenly voice called out that made Christine smile all the time, she looked up to see little Angelique up in a tree, smiling down upon her. Angelique's had long raven black hair with messy curls. Her blue golden eyes seemed to glow in the both the glimmering sunlight and the pitch darkness. She looked too much like her father; it was painful to know that it had been eight years since her beloved Opera Ghost had left for America.

"There you are! Come down it's time to head back home!" Christine said.

"Okay mama!" Angelique said. She climbed down the tree, and leaped down onto the ground with a thump. She wore a pink rose colored gown with small flower pattern.

"Come my dear, it's time for us to head back home." Angelique took her mother's hand as they began their journey back home.

"Will father be home?" Angelique asked so innocently. If only she knew what type of man Raoul really was. Angelique tried her best from the moment she could speak to have a good relationship with Raoul, but no matter how hard she tried breaking his walls. Raoul can contain the pure disgust and anger in his eyes toward her. Christine felt sorry for her daughter and felt incredibly guilty for the life she brought her only child into.

Christine sadly shook her head. "No. Not tonight, love." She said, walking along the park.

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The sun began to fall heavily into the ground as the sky spat out the stars. The entire mansion stood in silence as all the servants had already retired to their own happy families back home to greet them. Christine paced around the study room for a while, stuck in deep thought. She glanced over at the letter from a doctor that sat on the desk. She picked up the letter and read it again.

"Dear Mrs. Viscount, I can not to bring to myself on how sorry I am to tell you of your unknown illness. The diagnosis to your sickness is tuberculosis. It is very common that it would have been unseen at first. How you may have caught it was when you had the fever during the last 2 week of your pregnancy before your daughter's birth may have caused the tuberculosis. At this late stage it is server. You also told me that lately you have been seeing blood in your urine when it's not your bleeding. Tuberculosis will affect other parts of your body, including your kidneys, spine or brain. There's no knowing how many days you have left to live. I'm sorry, but there is nothing for me to do, but to pray. I'll come around in a couple of days to check on you to see how things progresses. Sincerely, Dr. Fergusson."

Tuberculosis. She has tuberculosis. Christine slumped down onto the chair, hunched over till her elbows were on her knees. What is she going to do? What would happen to her daughter when she leaves her tragical shell of a body. When she returns home to reunite with her long departed father.

Suddenly, an idea had popped into her head. If she was going to die, the only way for her daughter's safety was to leave her with someone who knows how to disappear. Christine grabbed a small stack of paper, grabbed an ink pen and began scribbling down a letter.

After finishing up the last sentences. Christine pressed her red lips on the letter and licked the envelope shut. Glancing through the window, she saw a boy much older than Angelique standing up the lamp post, waiting for someone to give him a job. She quickly grabbed some coins she held safety from Raoul, ran down the steps, and out through the door. The night grew cold as the cobble stone shines in the light. There was no one around besides a few people walking home and carriages pulled along the road. Christine walked to the boy, he was covered in dirt, but that never bothered her. The boy noticed her walking toward him as he stood up straight, waiting for her orders. "You would you mind sending this to the post office." She said, handing him the letter, and brought out some coins. "Here is the money for the letter, and the rest can be for you." Christine warm smile brought joy to the boy as he nodded his head, and began running toward the post office. Christine sighed in relief, hoping that Erik would get the letter in time. She walked back into the warmth of her home, but noticed that Angelique was sitting on the top of the stairs. "Angelique? What are you doing out of bed, my love."

"I can not sleep." Angelique said, rubbing her forearm when she gets nervous. "W-will you tuck me in?" Christine smiled sweetly to her daughter, walked up the stairs, and kissed Angelique on the forehead.

"Of course of wondering child." She took Angelique's hand, leading them all the way to her room. As Christine was tucking Angelique in her bed. "Mama?"

"Yes my child."

"Could you maybe sing me a lullaby?" Angelique said with a sweet voice. She looked so much like her father, Erik.

"Okay my angel. But after I sing to you, promise me that you'll go to bed." Angelique nod her head.

"Hush Now - my story
Close your eyes and sleep
Waltzing the waves
Diving the deep
Stars are shining bright
the wind is on the rise
Whispering words
Of long lost lullabies...

Oh won't you come with me
Where the Moon is made of gold
And in the morning sun
We'll be sailing
Oh won't you come with me
Where the ocean meets the sky
And as the clouds roll by
We'll sing the song of the sea...

I had a dream last night
And heard the sweetest sound
And heard the sweetest sound
I saw a great white light
And dancers in the round
Castles in the sand
cradles in the trees
Don't cry - I'll see you by and by...

Oh won't you come with me
Where the Moon is made of gold
And in the morning sun
We'll be sailing
Oh won't you come with me
Where the ocean meets the sky
And as the clouds roll by
We'll sing the song of the sea...

Rolling, rolling, rolling...

Oh won't you come with me
Where the Moon is made of gold
And in the morning sun
We'll be sailing
Oh won't you come with me
Where the ocean meets the sky
And as the clouds roll by
We'll sing the song of the sea..."

Christine peered down at her daughter and saw that Angelique had fallen fast asleep. Kissing her daughter goodnight. "Goodnight my love, I love you." Christine slowly and quietly walked out of her room, shutting the door behind. As she made it back to her room, she was startled by a dark figure sitting hunched over her bed. It Raoul. He grew stubbles on his chin, the stench of alcohol lingered from his body. Raoul looked up at Christine and spoke with a slur in his voice.

"Who's...the father?" Christine felt her heart dropped into her stomach.

"W-what do you, Raoul?" Christine asked, but Raoul shoot her with a dirty look.

"You know what I mean." Clumsily, he stood up from the bed, stumbling toward Christine as she began walking back till her back hit the wall. "Everyday for the past eight years I've been noticed that Angelique has different features than mine. She has black hair while I have light brown hair. Her skin is paler than mine and your combined." Raoul was dangerously close to her, grabbed her wrist, squeezing it painful. "And what's worst...are those damn eyes. They are different than mines." He brought his lips close to hers and whispered. "As if they belong to a certain old lover of yours." Christine chewed the inside of her cheeks, using all strength in her arms as she shoved Raoul away.

"How dare you accuse me of sleeping with another man. I am your wife and yet I do not threaten you when you go off sleeping with whores." Without warning, something flew in the air sending a stinging pain on her cheek. She fell onto the ground. Raoul had different expression, one Christine had only seen once. When it was Erik how almost hanged Raoul down in the lair. If only Erik had finished the job, she would have been free from her shackles, but no. Christine had to bite her tongue and tolerate him a little longer just until Erik comes and takes Angelique away, and maybe even her too. The three of them can be a family. Christine stood up from the floor. Staring at her husband dead in the eyes with such disgust and hatred. For once Christine felt the courage to stand up against Raoul. "For the longest time, I've tried to make things better for the both of us...but I'm tired. I gave up on you after we were married not only because I don't love you, not only because I don't want to be with you anymore, but because never once have you gave your heart and soul just like when we were down in the lair in the Opera House. Back than you were the man I fell in love with...but now you are the man I fell out of love with."

Raoul stares at her in disbelief. She made her way to the bathroom to get ready for bed, leaving Raoul to still stare down at the empty bottle in his hand. He had never seen Christine so bold and now for the first time the once timid Christine was now a brave and frightening woman.

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24, April 1882
239B Manhattan, New York City

Rain. Here come the drops steady and soft, falling from a sky of white velvet. They come altogether and yet as pioneers. A man walked along the busy streets of New York. For months now he had been growing restless. Usually during the night. The man's shoes splash, causing small waves onto the already soaked ground. Staring down at the ground as a small reflection of white illuminated. He quickly lifted his scarf to hide it from preying eyes.

The man peered up at the eye views to find the beautiful sight of spring. The rain brings a richness to each hue, the browns deepen in a way that soothes the man's heart, brings a steadiness to his soul. The grass becomes glossy, reflecting the light, a new bright shine to their wands, softly waving in the breeze. This rain brings a freshness, each drop a heaven-given gift for each part of creation.

If only she was here to enjoy it with him. New York was magnificent as people claim to say back in Europe. But there was one thing that New York was lacking in...opera houses. The only opera house was on Broadway Street; it was nowhere near as elegant as the Opera Popular back in Paris. It had been years since he moved to America. To start fresh, make a new life for him in he land of opportunity and yet there was still that emptiness, the void still tingling in his heart. A certain woman he still dreamt about.

The man walked up the flights of stairs to the top floor of the apartment. Digging through his long trench coat, pulling out a set of keys, turning the lock as a small click echoed in the empty hallway. The door swung open to reveal a dark room. Switching on the lights as the light illuminated the apartment. There was one bedroom and bathroom, a small living space with a small piano pilled up with music sheets and crumbled up pieces of paper. It wasn't much, but it was home.

As the man took the first few steps inside, his shoes hit something. Looking down at the ground, he found an envelope laying helplessly on the wood floor. Maybe it was the woman from a few doors down that had been trying to win his heart, but it was no use. He only had one eye on one woman in his entire lifetime. For her and her alone. The man picked up the letter expecting to have a lipstick stain on it, but to his surprise it had his name written on it. "To Erik Destler". But that is impossible, the only person who knew his real name was...no it can't be. Erik read the sent address as his eyes widen. It was from Christine back in Paris. 

After all these years, Christine wrote to him. He had written to her the first few times when he first arrived in New York, but over time the letters stopped coming back to him. It broke his heart when it happened. He went over to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of Jim. Sat himself on the couch, slowly with trembling fingers opened the letter, and began to read.

"My Dearest Erik, You will no doubt be surprised to receive a letter from one who has not connected or know where exactly you might be, but I hope you will pardon me for my boldness when I tell you how truly, how deeply I love you. Perhaps prudence would dictate that I should, for the present, at least, with hold this confession, but my heart is impatient and will not be quieted until I have made you acquainted with its secret. I am aware that the suddenness of my passion may awaken the suspicion that it is only a shallow and transient feeling, but I am sure that you have won my whole heart from the moment we first meet in the lair to the end where we first made love to one another that moonless night. What more could you do were those charms of yours, which have so easily captivated me, to shine before me for years?

I have come of need of a favor from you. I'm dying. I have tuberculosis and I may not have much time left on this earth, but I pray with all my might that you would come so that I may see you one last time. What I fear the most is my daughter, when I die she'll be left with Raoul. From the moment of her birth, Raoul had hated her, and I fear that he will harm her. If you can find it in your heart, please take her far away from Paris, take care of her, love her as I loved her.

All I expect in answer to this, I fear, imprudent note, is some intimation that I may dare to hope that I do not live without hope. I cannot imagine any happiness for my daughter in the future which is not identified with you and your beautiful view of music. There will be another letter for you when you arrive, my daughter will give it to you that will explain everything. I am, with great respect and devoted love, Christine."

On the right bottom corner of the letter was a red lipstick stain. Erik brushed his hands on the lips, feeling ghost lips pressing onto his. Tears were prickling his eyes, but quickly dismissed them as he stared up at the clock. It was around 7:00 pm, there's a ship that would leave for Europe in an hour. Erik scrambled to gathered an arm full of clothes and items, threw them into a case, and sprinted out the door. Praying that he could make it there in time, to see his Christine one last time. Please God...please.

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10 June, 1882

Paris, France

Angelique was in her room, playing with her dolls. Happily humming to herself as she brushed the doll's long curly blond hair. Not having a care in the world. Although, Angelique wished her mother would play with her. Being the only child does get lonely, especially with a neglected alcoholic father. Lately, her mother had gotten sicker as each passing day goes by. All Angelique could do was sit next to her mother's bed, either read to her or sing. Every night Angelique would pray to God that her mother would get better, but everyday her praises weren't answered.

Suddenly, Angelique heard the front door slam opening, foot steps pounding against the wooden stairs. Little Angelique scrambled to her feet, tip toed down the hallway, she saw her parent's bedroom door open. She peeked her head and saw a doctor talking with Raoul, while nurses were running in and out with a bucket of cold water.

Quietly she walked into the room, then she saw her mother laying on the bed, breathing heavily. Angelique ran over to the edge of the bed. Christine's face was really pale then usual, dark circles were under her eyes. Christine resembled a withering skeleton. Christine fluttered her eyes open, saw her beautiful daughter, the best thing that ever happen in her life. Christine stretched out her weak shaky hand toward her daughter. Angelique quickly ran to her mother's side, holding her tiny one into her mother's shaky one. They were cold and clammy to the touch.

Angelique couldn't contain her teary eyes as they pours down her cheeks. "Mama...Don't leave me...I-I...I'm scared..." Christine hushed Angelique. Christine placed her hand on Angelique's face, forcing her to looking deeply into her mother's eyes.

"Oh my wondering child. My angel, my...Angelique. Don't be scared my dear. It's my time, but I want you to be strong for me..." Angelique nodded her head.  "You were the best thing ever that came into my life. I'm thankful to have you as a daughter...If only the two of us could have met him together." Christine went quiet as she stared up at the ceil while a single tear fell from her face. "I'm coming home papa..." She said with her dying breath, shut her eyes, and went completely quiet.

Little Angelique felt like someone punch a hole in her chest. What did her mother mean "met him"? There were so many questions to ask. Angelique shook her mother's shoulder, but no response. Angelique began to panic, shaking her mother, screaming her heart out. "NO NO NO! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME! MAMA!!!" Angelique's knee gave out as she sank onto the floor, clutching at the bedsheets till her knuckles turned white. She felt alone, the only person she needed was now gone from her life...forever.

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The sky was filled with angry clouds as the rain fell all over Paris. Today was a day of agony and grief. Angelique wore black dress with ruffles.

Everyone came to Christine's funeral, friends, family friends, and her only family. The priest read from the bible about moving on to a better life, and how they'll miss her. Angelique didn't want to move on, Angelqiue didn't want to move, all she wanted was to be next to her mother again.

It was more than crying, it was her inner self that was ready to desolate sob coming from being drained of all hope. Angelique her emotions tightly kept inside her chest. If she was close to crying she would dig her nails into her hands, even bite the inside of her cheeks. Her tears would have mingled with the rain and her gasping wails would have been covered by the echoed of rain drops around the gravestones. The pain that flowed from her was as palpable was the frigid fall wind. Struggling to keep her tears silent, looking up to the watery skies and heaven beyond. Angelique had to believe her mother was safe up there, comfortable and warm. Away from the awful man her mother was married to. Looking down would be to imagine her mother cold in a box, bereft of her cuddles and goodnight kisses.

After the funeral Angelique, and Raoul made their way to the carriage where they will be heading back home to disgust about Christine's will. As soon as they both got in, Raoul slammed the door, and glared at poor little Angelique. He was stuck with her until she turned 18. He could just sell her for drinking money, but that would be too simple for that. He'll have to find some other uses for her.

When they arrived home, an old man was in the living room with a sheet of paper. "Bon après-midi!" Raoul grumbled under his breath, poured himself a drink, and sat down in his chair.

"Let's get this thing over with I have a busy schedule today!" Raoul snarled, waving his hand in the air. The old coughed a bit as he dug through his case. Angelique quietly sat herself down far from her father, staring down at her hands.

"Alright then, first we'll started with you sir." Raoul sat at the edge of his seat, ready to hear the "good news". " In your dearly departed wife's will, she had left you the house." The old man stopped, and flipped the page to the next person on his list. Raoul blinked a couple of times.

"Wait, wait. There must be a mistake, Monsieur. I was promised my wife's family fortune?" He asked. Angelique could sense the anger in his tone as she scooted closer to the door, for her own safety in case Raoul would throw another furniture across the room again. She had seen him done it before when one of the maids would mess up. It was not a pretty sight to see.

The old man scan the papers, flipping through the pages, but there was nothing. "I-I'm sorry, Monsieur...but there was nothing in Mademoiselle Viscount de Change's will for you to inherit her family's fortune. It was actually passed down to your daughter. Angelique froze.

She got her mother's fortune. But why? What scared her the most wasn't the fortune, but her father's fiery. She saw him breathing heavily, his face growing redder with anger as he smashed his glass onto the ground causing everyone to jump in their seats.

"That's it?! No wealth, no jewlels, no anything?! JUST THE STINKING HOUSE!!!" Raoul roared. He was not very happy.

"I'm sorry Monsieur, but that's what your wife left you with." The man said. Raoul huffed, and stormed out of the room, and slammed the door behind him. Angelique and the man both stared at each other in silence. "Is your father... always likes this?..." Angelique nodded sadly. The old man felt pity toward the young girl to be left with a no mother or her real father, and left with a man with temper and greed for richest. "Well in that case, lets see what you were left with. Your mother left you with her belongings, her riches, and..." The man frowned, squinting his eyes to read the paper. "That's unusual?...Your mother had left you with the Opera Popular, but that place had been abandon for ten years, ever since the accident?"

"What accident?" Angelique said.

"Well from what I heard, the opera was on fire, many people died from it. No body knows who started the fire, but some say that it was cause by..." The man looked around to see if anyone was there. He leaned in close to her ear, and whispered. "The Phantom of the Opera..."

Angelique's eyes widden. Her mother told her stories about him; she loved to hear the story about a young opera singer who was kiddnapped by a dark mysterious figure who was born with a half deformed face, and always wears a half white mask. She always wanted to meet him in person.

But what she really doens't know that he murdered thousands of poor souls, and burned the opera house. But little Angelique was too young to understand these type of things.

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Later that night, Angelique got herself ready for bed, brushed out her long dark black brown curly hair. Her hair touched her butt, she wanted to grow long, because her mother used to have long hair when she was little. Angelique looked at her reflection in the mirror, and saw that she looked like her mother. The same face features, same slooped curved nose, same pink lips, same smooth, soft pale skin, rosy cheeks, and the same curliness of her hair. Angelique smiled to herself, she was prettier then the other girls. Her mother always told her that she was pretty.

But then the door of her bedroom slammed open. Raoul was standing by the door way with a bottle of rum in his left hand. His left shoulder leaned up against the door frame, glaring at her. Angelique shivered from those piercing eyes burning into her soul. Raoul stomped his leather black boots toward her, grabbed her tiny hand, dragging forcefully through the dark empty hallway.

"You get everything even the richess from that blast of a mother of your's, and I get the stinken house..." He dragged her down the steps all the way to the storage cell. At the dark concern of the room there was a closet, a closet with a huge lock on it.

"What are you doing?!" Angelique cried out, she tried to pull away from Raoul's grip, but it was no use his grip in her tiny wrist was too strong for her. "LET GO OF ME!!!" She cried out. Raoul turned around, and slapped her across the face to shut her up.

Angelique started to cry, tiny tears fell from that sweet face of her's. Raoul got irritated of her cries so he slapped her again, five times across the face until she stopped crying. He pulled her arm up close to his face, meet eye to eye with each other.

"This will be your new life now, as my new servant so..." Pulling her by the hair on her head, whispering in her ear. "Get. Used. To. It." Raoul hissed. He opened the closet, it was dark and cold with cobwebs in corners. Raoul took Angelique's arm and threw her into the closet. She fell with a thump and landed in the dust.

Angelique turned around to see a large dark shadowy figure standing up the doorway. "Please..." She whispered. "Please don't do this...I'm afraid of the dark..." She cried out.

Raoul grinned an evil grin, and said with a snarled. "Get...used to it..." And slammed the door shut and locking it. Leaving poor little Angelique's in dark all by herself without a mother to protect her.