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Born Ugly: book Two	By : KassandraRamsey Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > AU/AR Views: 1616 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Three: Saying Goodbye

Margo did not get the part of ‘Clara’, despite her teacher’s insistence that she could do it. The director flat out refused to give the starring role to a five-year-old, no matter how gifted.

Margo was inconsolable, and I was truly at a loss as to how to comfort her.

“Just let her cry,” Erik told me, taking me down with him to the basement.

I had come home with her after ballet class on a Friday night in October. The results of the auditions had been reveled after the class was over. I had actually made it, and the director had stuck Margo in my group. I was very happy, but Margo’s despair made it hard to show it. She marched straight into her room and locked the door.

I followed Erik into the studio, expecting to dance, but he motioned that I join him at the piano.

“You’ve got your ballet part down, now its time to concentrate on what is really important, your voice,” he said.

“But I…”

“Angel, you have a lovely gift, and it’s your responsibility to share it with the world. You know that dancing is not for you. You don’t have to give it up—just don’t neglect your true talents,” he said, and I found myself nodding in agreement. It was almost impossible to refuse him anything.

He taught me several vocal exercises, and had me sing many carols. I truly enjoyed singing for him, and began to appreciate my voice more than I ever had before. Erik was right, my voice was very nice.

We sang on for three hours before he called it quits. We were both panting as if we’d run a race, and my body ached from standing for so long.

He took me upstairs and I was surprised to hear the Grandfather clock chime ten p.m.

There was a note on the refrigerator from Mrs. Peterson saying to help ourselves to the casserole, she was going to bed, and didn’t want to interrupt our music lesson. Erik warmed it up in the microwave, and we both dug in like we hadn’t eaten in days.

“Music does that to you. Drains your energy. If you’re not exhausted and hungry when you’ve finished a music lesson, then you’re not doing something right,” he said, between bites.

I nodded and continued eating.

When we were finished, I thanked him for the lesson and went upstairs to go to bed, but Margo still had the door locked.

I stumbled back downstairs in the dark, deciding to ask Eric what I should do. Maybe he had a key?

He was sitting at his desk, typing something on the computer when I came down.

“Are you okay, Angel?” he asked me in concern.

“Yes, it’s just that Margo’s door is locked so I can’t get to bed,” I said on a yawn.

He walked me into his room, and pulled out a t-shirt for me to sleep in. I quickly changed out of my leotard and crawled into the bed while he had his back turned.

“You can have my bed. I don’t sleep much at night, anyway. Angel?”

But I was already asleep before he finished speaking.

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It seemed as if I had barely shut my eyes before he was shaking me awake.

“Angel? I need you to wake up, my Angel.” His soft melodic voice roused me from sleep, and I sat up rubbing my eyes.

He handed me my overnight bag that had been locked in Margo’s room.

“What’s going on?” I asked, yawning.

He hesitated, and suddenly I knew.

“Daddy?” I whispered fearfully, and he pulled me into his arms, holding me tight.

“He’s in the hospital. The doctors don’t think he’ll make it to the morning,” he whispered, and I began sobbing.

He firmly pushed me back, and tilted my chin up so that I had to look into his eyes.

“Angel, you must get control of yourself. Your father doesn’t have much time, and if you want to say goodbye, we need to leave now.”

I took a deep breath and nodded. He was right; there’d be time to cry later. Now, I needed to see my dad.

I rummaged through my bag and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. His t-shirt that I slept in was some how tangled around me, and I tugged at it in frustration.

His large, warm hands stilled me, and he quickly freed me from the shirt, and dressed me in my own clothes. I felt like a toddler again, but it didn’t matter. We needed to leave.

Everything seemed to be going in slow motion as we walked down the hall in the hospital toward ICU. Mrs. Peterson had been in the process of getting Margo out of bed when we left. Erik was insistent that I get to the hospital as quickly as possible. And I’m so glad he was.

I walked into my dad’s room, and his eyes fluttered open. He looked at me with a sad smile and told me how much he loved me.

I was crying as I kissed him goodbye, and when I pulled away from the kiss, he was gone.

I screamed, and buried my face in his chest that was eerily silent and still. Sobs racked my body, and I could feel hands pulling at me, trying to get me to let go.

I just kept screaming and sobbing. I was finally wrenched away and found myself in Mrs. Colbert’s embrace.

I pulled away from her, and my eyes found Erik in the doorway. I ran to him, and he scooped me up into his arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck and cried into his chest, a part of me reveling in his steady heart beat.

I was crying so hard, I passed out.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up in Erik’s bed again, back at Margo’s house. He’d put me back in his t-shirt, and tucked me under the blanket.

I was surprised to see him stretched out beside me on top of the blanket. He was asleep and holding one of my hands in his. I looked at the digital clock on the bedside table and saw that it was almost lunchtime.

I wasn’t hungry though. My father was dead.

I braced myself for the grief I knew was sure to follow that thought, but it never came. Instead, I felt numb. I felt detached and removed from the situation.

I sat up in the bed, being careful not to wake Erik. He mumbled something, then let go of my hand and rolled onto his side away from me.

My father was dead.

My mother had died when I was a baby. I no longer had any family alive that I knew of.

At five-years-old, I was an orphan. Would I be put in an orphanage?

I was hit with a wave of fear and loneliness.

It was too quiet in the room, and I felt like screaming again. Instead, I shook Erik awake. It wasn’t hard—he was a light sleeper.

“Erik?”

He sat up and blinked at me as he tried to wake up.

“Yes, Angel?” he asked.

I opened my mouth, then shut it again.

He reached out a hand and wiped a tear from my cheek. I hadn’t even realized I was crying.

He pulled me up against his chest and began rocking me.

“Am I going to be alone now?” I finally asked and his arms tightened around me.

“No, Angel. I’ll be with you, always,” he promised, and I felt myself relax.

“What’s going to happen to me then? Where will I live?” I asked, needing to know these things.

“Don’t worry about that. Mrs. Peterson is trying to get custody of you, and she has a very good case. The court has already granted her guardianship until the hearing next month. But no matter what happens, I’ll be with you, okay?” he asked.

I nodded, feeling much better. But then the grief came back, and I began to miss my dad terribly. I cried softly as Erik sang me back to sleep.

End Chapter Three
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Born Ugly: book Two