They gazed into the mirror, nearly ready to go on. Christine adjusted the feathers of her headpiece while Meg stepped behind her to tighten her bodice laces a bit more. Both women were fearful as they stood in the quiet of the dressing room. Christine feared for her life, Meg feared for her sanity. Her constant thoughts of the beautiful, talented creature that stood before her threatened to drive the girl mad. The part of the day that she used to look forward to with such excitement ~ helping the new diva into and out of her costumes ~ had begun to fill her with a kind of dread she couldn't explain. The way Christine brushed her hair away from her face, the delicate smell of perfume and powder that announced her presence, the gentle melody of her voice, these things had begun to torture the poor chorus girl. She didn't understand what was happening, her thoughts were seldom off her friend, her dancing had begun to suffer. As she checked the clasp on the necklace that encircled the woman's swan-like neck, Meg could barely keep herself from sliding her hands across the pale shoulders, tracing the line of her perfectly formed collarbone. She stepped away, her hands trembling with the effort of control. Christine noticed the shudder. "Don't worry for me, Meg. I'll be safe, Raoul is here."

The girl's heart shattered.