Sorry I posted this instead of chapter10 of Two Hearts Made Whole.The epilouge is taking so long,and i am having the worst writer's block at the very end. My beta reader is helping me, but since we are both in the midst of examweek, iI probably won'thave it up til tuesday.I started this story to try to get some ideas going. The whole story is inMeg's POV, ithink. This could change in later chapters but we will see. I hope u guys like this.

The Nothing I've Become

1. Woman of the Streets

I often wondered how my life ever amounted to this. It only seems like yesterday that I was a prima ballerina in the Opera Populaire, courted by charming suitors and dancing my heart out. But it is all gone. I have nothing. My profession is nothing. My home is nothing. My life is nothing.

Everything had been destroyed months ago. I had heard about the Phantom of the Opera. I often found my mother in possession of one of his many notes. I had seen what he had done. I'd even seen his home. The curiosity I had towards this strange masked man who Christine once called an angel has turned hatred. It was all his fault. He is the reason that the opera house, the only home that I had ever known, is a mere ruin of the splendor it used to be. It is he who forced me into the profession that I must adhere to. It is he who killed my mother. No, I shouldn't entirely say that he killed her, but he led to her demise. It was not long after the opera house was ruined that we were forced to rummage through the slums of Paris, barely able to make it through. That, and the stress of the "strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera" had been too much for her poor heart and my mother could not hold out any longer. She died a few months ago. So, in a way, he did kill her. It is because of that man, or phantom, whatever he may be, that my life amounts to nothing.

Someone was knocking at the door. I got up from my lumpy old bed to see who it was. It was my fair-weathered friend and fellow whore Camille, who had also been a member of the corps de ballet. Yes, as much as I had to admit it, this is what the Phantom condemned me to; a life in prostitution along with the other ballet rats. I doubt that they had a problem finding work; most ballerinas provided their services almost as much as a regular working girl. My poor mother would weep if she could see me. I had planned to maintain my virginity until I found someone worthy enough to marry, like the good, honest, Catholic girl I was, that I wish I still could be. But what choice did I have there? I was only a poor, orphaned dancer of eighteen. Now was one of the times in my life that I wished that I would have taken more interest in suitors. I probably wouldn't have ended up as a wife, but even being a mistress to anyone right now would be better than this. Despite the brutal nights of sharing a bed with a stranger, I still got decent food and a roof over my head.

"Meg, you better get ready. The customers will be coming soon." She closed the door. I was glad to be alone again. It wasn't like I hated Camille, but it was no where near the sisterhood that I had shared with Christine. The only reason that I hung around Camille was that she was one of the few more experienced whores whowasnd to me and usually helped me gain some less brutal customers, butthat didn't stop her from saving therich ones that came by for herself.

I looked out the window. To my dismay, night was drawing near. Before I became one of Madame Boureigh's girls, I would have enjoyed looking at the starry sky, probably from the roof of the opera house. But now, it only meant hell. I sat down at my vanity and began painting myself with the traditional makeup of a prostitute, though I did not always wear as much eye makeup as most did. How ironic, a whore still trying to be modest. I changed from a drab day dress into the usual alluring outfit I wore to work. A wave of nausea swept over me. I was definitely not in the mood to do this again, but there was no choice. The last timeI had to sleep with someone, I had passed out. That incident had earned me a few nights off, but now I had to make up for it. Hesitantly, I dragged myself down the stairs onto the streets to pick up some customers.

The whole environment I forced myself to live in each night was sickening. Already some of my colleges were flirting at men passing by and a few were leaving to provide their services. Camille and I stood near the door and I tried my best to be flirtatious, even if I felt sick. A rather scraggly but somewhat decent looking man came up to Camille, asking for a good lady of the evening that he could have a go with. He seemed okay, which said a lot for a man looking for a girl to spend the night with. Of course, Camille handed me over to him.

" 'Ow much'll it be, miss," he said in a rather broken accent.

"Fifteen francs for a go and thirty for the night," Camille replied. I stood there like a pig before the butcher, being the good little hooker I was. This was so degrading. 'I'm worth more far more than that!' I hated the way my body was sold as if I was a mere object, but I knew better than to speak out. I had to go along with this sale if I was to eat dinner tomorrow.

That man paid thirty francs. 'Great. Now I have to spend a whole night with him.' I hated it when they wanted me for a whole night. Not only did that mean I would not be able to return to my safe bed that night, but I would have to give into a man's lust multiple times, and worst of all, I had to pretend to enjoy it. The man tugged my arm, making me lose my balance for a moment before taking me down a dark ally and into a run-down inn. 'Oh God, can I really do this again?' He closed the door and I laid down on the bed, assuming my usual provacative position. He took off his shirt and another wave of nausea crashed down on me. He was slightly chubby and very hairy with greasy skin. The thought of him on top of me just made me want to vomit until I passed out.

Slowly he made his way over to the bed, attempting to be seductive. If I hadn't felt so sick, I probably would have laughed. He sat down, leaned over me, and began pulling away my dress and the laces of my corset. My mind was screaming for release, begging me to make him stop, but I needed this money. But still, my beaten body could not take this torture again. My top was gone and instantly he greedily sought for my breasts. My mind screamed even louder, pleading to make it stop. I couldn't take it! 'Oh God please help me!' Everything was so hot. Not the pleasant heat that one is supposed to feel when engaging in these activities, but feverishly hot, like my lungs were on fire. It was suffocating. I couldn't breathe! My mind was crying out in ear-spliting screams.

"No. No, dear God! Please!" I moaned, only making the assualts worse. "Stop! Please, have mercy! STOP!"

"Listen pet, I paid for a whole night and that's what I'll get!"

Oh God, there had to be a way to stop this nightmare. My eyes frantically searched the room for anything to get him off, but nothing was in my reach. So, I decided to be resourcefull and I did the only thing I could; deliver a powerful kick right to his crotch. The bastard howled in pain and rolled off the bed onto the floor. I was quite pleased with myself. Apparently I had not lost all ofmy gracefrom my days as a ballerina.

"Why you insufferable little BITCH!" He lunged for me, grabbing at me and trying to get revenge. My heart was pounding with fear. He would be ten times worse if I didn't stop him. I grabbed a nearby candle holder and whacked him over the head as hard as I could. He gave me a look of sheer loathing mefore collapsing into an unconsious heap.

I stood there, transfixed by the sight before me. I couldn't believe I really did that. I never even knew I had the courage to do that. Well, at least he was out of the way, until I realized that I had just subjected myself to a number of new problems. Madame Bourais would surely find out about this, she always finds out. The old hag would probably flog me at least for sure. She would probably make me work double time as well. How on earth would I be able to cope with even more men than I already had to? Oh God, what have I done? I had to get away, far away. I had no idea how on earth I would provide for myself, but I had to do something, anything to get away from that whorehouse. I thought for a moment. They wouldn't be expecting me back until morning. That should give me time for a fair head start. I picked up my cloathes and hastily dressed. I would have to be quick. I started running.

I made my way through the city, but with each step, I only became more exhausted. My strength was so low that I would probably pass out before I got out of the city. There had to be a place I could rest, somewhere where I could stay for at least one night. My gaze turned to across the street to the shell of the Opera Populaire. My home! The sight of the broken down building brought tears to my eyes. Surely there was no one there,... but what if the opera ghost had returned? No, I would not fear him. If he was there, I would kill that filthy murderer with my bare hands and not have a single regret about it. It was his fault that I was standing where I was right now. I crossed the street, looking fondly upon my real home. It was going to be quite a challenge getting in. The doors were barred and any windows were boarded up. I walked around to the Rue Scribe entrance. Near the corner there was a small window with some loose boards. Perhaps I could get through there. With a few good tugs I was able to make a whole wide enough for me to fit in. I hadn't been to this area very often. It was the entrance to the cellars. Only stable boys and stage hands came around here. I wondered where they led. I blindly followed the passages, feeling the air around me get colder. I needed to rest soon. I was so tired and it was getting hard to breath. I was starting to feel dizzy and my throat burned. I looked ahead of me. There was light dancing on the walls. The lake! Thank God! I was so thirsty. I kneeled down and greedily splashed water into my mouth. It tasted funny, but I was so thristy that I didn't care. I let it go all over my face, trying to bring myself out of the nausea I felt. That felt so much better. I sat there beside the lake, looking at my reflection. I was such a mess, with tousled hair and makeup smudged all over my face. The sight of myself made me feel so low. A tear trickled down my cheek.

"Oh mother, please forgive me!" I cried out. I was so miserable, so disgusted with what I had become. I could not help but weep."I am so sorry. Please, save me! Get me away from here! I don't want to be a whore! I don't want any of this! Please God, if you have any mercy, take me now! Just someone... anyone... save me!" I felt like everything was crashing down on me all at once and i couldn't stop muself from breaking down.Damn the Phantom! Damn the man who made me suffer! DAMN HIM TO AN ETERNITY IN HELL! My mother had once said that I should never wish such a fate to anyone, but he deserved it. He deserved to suffer just as much as I had. It was there and then I made up my mind. I would make him know what I had went through. I would be the one to make him suffer. I, innocent, little Meg Giry, would make sure that the bastard who killed my mother, my dreams, and sent me into prostitution would know of all the pain and anguish that I had to deal with. There was hell to pay, and I would not leave Paris until my revenge was complete.

But revenge was going to have to wait. I was so exhausted that I was barely able to stay awake. I laid down on the hard, cold stone before closing my eyes and giving into unconciousness.

Soooo, what did you think? Yes, I know I'm being extremely mean to Meg, but I'm just evil like that. Don't worry, Erik will come along in the next chapter. Let me know if this is any good. Please review!