The sound trickled down Christine's spine. The sound of a voice, that calls to her, gently. Some would say she's insane but wasn't sanity built on a blindfolded society. "Christine.." Her name in which only he could make sound as if it was a musical note all on its own. A note that was created for a soul purpose of passing his lips.

"My Angel." she replied. Not knowing why someone as talented and brilliant as him hid in the shadows. But she was selfish. A quality that to most people was a ugly trait and she knew that but it wrapped her in its clutches. She dare not to break free. For if she did, she may lose her Angel, her teacher, her caretaker.

She smiled happy to receive lessons from her mysterious Angel. Lessons, if not for him, she would still be a inaudible toad. Thoughts circled in her head. It's been three years since her first lesson, to her it felt as if he has been guarding her entire life. "Christine, focus." he ordered. She attempted the simple vocal warm ups once more but again her voice failed to please him. She could do anything but focus; not while childish questions ran through her mind.

She sat modestly on the piano bench, her assigned seat that her beloved Teacher gave her many years ago. She never understood why. She just blindly obeyed her Teacher's orders for fear he would leave her. She couldn't face the nightmarish thought of never having the pleasure of becoming his precious prodigy. "Christine," Her body tensed with the sound of her own name grazing her ear. She wanted to confirm her suspicion that her Master was indeed real. She felt glove covered hands journey slowly from her shoulders to her hands.

Her mouth was dry for she was both terrified and nervous a dangerous combination. He raised her hands to the piano's keys ever so gently. Her hand's were engulfed in his. He then kindly guided her fingers across the keys as he played. Her fingers were passengers singing along to a sweet melody that she herself has never heard before. She didn't shudder at his touch it was his voice that held the power. "Focus, focus, my dear."

Focus? How? She couldn't mutter words let alone sing. Her Angel was real this was proof, proof that she was sane. "Christine?" he questioned. She wanted to face him nothing more nothing less. Her body wanted to escape but she was caught between a Angel and piano. He slowly moved his hands off of hers. He wondering if forcing a piece of music foreign to her ear was a mistake or maybe it was his desperate attempt for her to be his audience.

"Do Angels love?" she asked. A question she always thought of asking but never acted upon it until now. "I do not know." he wonder what made her ask such a odd question. Love was as foreign to him as his music was to Christine. "But your an Angel." Christine said not wanting her Angel of music to retreat into the shadows. "Christine Daaè, I am not an Angel. I am quite below in fact but if you insist that I be an Angel. I wish not to anyone's Angel but your's."

"My Angel." with that she smiled the same smiled she had in the beginning of the lesson. She didn't know if he was still in the music room that was once considered the most haunted of the rooms in the Opera house. She was fifteen when she was playing a extremely childish game with her best friend who was a year older and the other ballerinas that filled the halls with laughter. She hid in this very room under the cloth that once hid the once thought to possessed piano.

For hours no one found her. She wondered if they stopped looking, not that she really wanted to be found. She looked at the piano oddly as if it was out of place. Sure she was wrapped in the sheet that covered the piano. It was quite a cold room and a odd one at that. Mirrors lined two of the larger walls. Ballerina bars ran across them as if this room was never planned to be a music room but a room for pointed toes and tutus.

It was the only instrument in sight and it looked like it had been played recently. Of course that sounded funny to her. All the people she knew were afraid to step inside but not Christine Daaè. She was torn from either pounding on the piano keys like a dimwit or dancing to her heart's content. She sat up from the piano and danced. She was the opposite of graceful but she was happy no, Madame Giry to scold her on her form nor a dance routine to follow.

The dust that was on the sheet marked her once white ballerina uniform. Her hair no longer trapped by her ballerina bun. She would be mistaken younger than fifteen dancing as she pulled the large sheet to follow her as if it was white wings shaded by the clouds that she pretend she frockled in.

"A child to pure for this world." The masked man muttered only for himself to hear. He thought maybe he could train her for she had the potential to become something of a prodigy of his. Entertainment for his past time which he had plenty of. He knew Madame Giry would have her hands full trying to craft this child into a danty figurine in a music box.

"La, la, laaa." Christine sang as she made funny of her reflection. Her voice was the farthest thing from perfection. "Dear child if you wish to sing do it properly." he ordered. Christine looked around to see not a soul in sight. "I can't sing well. I never could. Not like my mother" She said coming to the conclusion he was her angel of music her father said he would send her. She looked at the floor ashamed of dust she scattered across the room.

"Well, shall I teach you or do you wish to flock like someone half your age?" She sat on the piano bench wrapping herself back in the sheet. His words were harsh but something she needed to hear. The man oddly found her wrapping herself back up in a protective cocoon entertaining. "You settled?" he asked. "I think so.. Angel" The name she called him made him clutch his chest. She really was too pure if she called him an Angel.

The same warm ups she did were the same she did the three following years afterwards. Trying hard to perfect each note. No longer for her father the violinist or her mother the opera singer. She wanted to impress her Teacher. Their pastimes becoming her favorite time of day. She wasn't the easiest of students but she was beginning to sing as if she was a opera star.

Remembering what it felt like to be so lost. Lost was a good way to describe how she felt. She was but never alone. Her Angel was there. Always he would stay. "Angel?" she question still not knowing if he truly left the room. She wanted to be naive again. He heisantly answered not knowing if he should continue teaching her for a worried thought crossed his mind that he always avoided. "Yes." he said steps away from sinking into the shadows.

"Thank you." She said as she looked out of the corner of her eye. Just one curious glimpse of her Angel reflected off the mirrors. He looked not at all how Christine pictured. He was much better. She looked down as if she was guilty of a horrible crime. She was, she broke a rule.