The Phantomess

~Chapter 2~

In the frontiers of Germany and France, there was a little cottage, surrounded by trees and animals. The cottage seemed really peaceful on that night. But it was not.

"You killed your mother! I know it, I am sure!" Screamed an psychotic father to her six year old daughter.
"Father! You know that isn't true! She died when I was born!" Said melancholic Lyrica.
Lyrica was a sweet girl, with porcelain white skin and light brown curls that reached her waist, she had aqua blue eyes that had a hint of green in them. She was really pretty before...
"Yes exactly! " Said his father while drinking from a bottle of whiskey. "That means that if you weren't born, she would still be here"
Lyrica wasn't scared at all. They had gone through this discussion many times, and it ended with her going to her room crying. And starting to sing.
Her father hated when she singed, because it reminded him of her mother, so he beat her. Her only consolation were her dreams. Every night, she dreamed with her mother, and she taught her to sing. It seemed so real to her, that she could swear that it wasn't just a dream.
Then it came.
Her father got up his chair, with a now empty whiskey bottle in his hand, and a match in the other. "This has been enough, I will not tolerate you any longer" he said, and with that, he grabbed Lyrica by her hair and pulled her through the door that leaded to the street.
Lyrica stared at him, frozen with fear. He had never done any mayor physical damage to her, only some bruises or red marks, but never mayor physical damages.
He just threw her to the floor while he lit up the match.
Then he threw it to her face.
Horrible and painful screams escaped her throat as her face burned down. Little did she know that only half of her face was being burned. Then, he broke the empty whiskey bottle on the damaged half of her face, because the other half was hidden with both of her hands. He also damaged her hands in such a way, that they were unrecognizable as hands.
"Now, I will leave you here, so you will die! Isn't it marvelous!?" He said, laughing hysterically while pulling his hair.  He had always wanted to get rid of her daughter, and now he did. Or so he thought...

Lyrica got up, not mattering the inconceivable pain that rushed through her face and penetrated her skin. She ran and ran and ran, without a stop. She placed the palms of her hands in the burning side of her face to extinguish the flames. That way, her hands hurt and they were covered in red flesh and ashes.
She ran even more, until she realized that she was no longer in the frontier, but in France. A street sign that pointed: Paris 2km
And she kept running in the rain that felt like acid on her skin. Until she reached Paris.

Then she remembered that once, in her dreams, her mother spoke about a place called "Palais Garnier" she said it was the most beautiful place on earth. So she looked for it.
And eventually found it.
"Looks like this is my new home..." And with that she entered, quiet as a mouse, to the opera house.
Little did she know that somebody like her was already there...