Love me...

Saved by an Angel

Christine

It has been five years since The Phantom took me down to his lair and forced me to decide between being his wife and blowing up the Paris Opera House.

Raoul was good to me, he loyally stayed with me for three years and ten months. He told me that he could no longer care for me properly, that he could no longer bear to see me in this unhappy, broken state. I did not argue with him, I agreed completely; he did not need my broken state, did not need to deal with emotional baggage like myself. He deserved to be free and love whomever he wanted.

I made myself focus, mind-wandering in the nunnery was not approved of. Not at all.

Once Raoul left me, I instated myself in the nunnery, learning how to be a nun. Being a nun is better than being a broken spinster. If I could not be married, I could be a nun—and I'd be a darn good one.

"Pay attention, Mille Daaé! You should only be praying!" Catheriné barked. She was basically the instructor for us nuns-in-training.

I had not realized that I had let my mind wander again. I apologized as meekly as I could. Catherine glared at me for a moment, then returned to her prayer.

I got down on my knees and prayed, letting her guide me in prayer, as the rest of the trainees were already doing.

Then we moved on to our daily hymns. Singing was still my great pleasure, though it was tinged with grief. I only knew how to sing properly because of him. He had seen my hidden talent, nourished it and sculpted it into something unearthly.

Then, one of the nuns would stand at the altar and read from their bible. Religious studies. It was not terrible, but I found it hard to concentrate. I found all I wanted to do was cry. Raoul never let me cry, I felt I could not be my grieving self around him. So I hid it behind a mask of happiness and carried on with my life. Raoul eventually saw through my façade and left me. It is as it should be, someone like me should not love—it is betrayal.

I force myself to focus on the lecture, questions will be asked soon and I am almost always called upon to answer them when I have not been paying attention.

A bell tolls and the speaker at the altar halts.

This has been happening for two years. Every time the bell rang, the nuns would hurry off to do some secret thing that only the real nuns knew of. If I did not know better, I would have said this church had its very own Quazymodo. No, that is foolishness.

But it was odd how the nuns disappeared four or five times a day, depending on when the bell rang. Who was the bell ringer, and what did he/she want when they rang the bell?

Breakfast, most likely; considering the time the bell had sounded. It was nine in the morning now. Our lessons started at six, so we had to be up at five thirty. Dressing in the nun's uniform and washing took time. And sleeping in meant whipping.

The bell ringer probably wanted breakfast. We did not get breakfast. Only luncheon, which was at twelve. Teaching in the nunnery ended at two-thirty and supper was at five. I did not enjoy the hours but there was nothing I could do about it.

The nuns ran out of the room.

All us girls began gossiping at once, we all wanted to know who the bell-ringer was and why he rang the bell so often.

"Maybe he is in love with one of the nuns and wishes to see her!" A girl sighed. "Are you mad? Nuns cannot have boyfriends or lovers. And why would all then nuns vanish?" came the snide reply. "Maybe it is a king! And he needs his wishes fulfilled!" "OOOh!" Another cried.