Jai Ho

Jai Ho
I do not own Phantom of the Opera.

“May I help you with something, my dear?”
The girl spun around with a loud yelp. To her shock, standing behind her, was a tall man wearing a black cloak, a white shirt, black pants, tall leather boots and a green vest. But what made the girl terrified of him was his mask- white porlelin which overed the right side of his face.
The girl looked up at him with fear in her eyes. The only sound that escaped her mouth was a quiet squeak.
The man raised an eyebrow, waiting for the young girl to speak.
“I need a place to stay for the night,” she managed to get out.
The man smiled kindly at her before leading her from the foyer of The Peacock Feather to the girl’s dormitories.
“You are looking for work, am I right?” The masked man asked her gently. The girl nodded her head before thinking. “Forgive me for asking, but how old are you?”
“I’m fourteen,” she mumbled as the man led her up a flight of stairs.
“I normally only hire girls who are fiteen and older,” the man started to say, his hand clamped lightly on her shoulder. “However, I do believe that I can make an acceptance for you, my dear.”
The girl looked up at him and smiled shyly. He suddenly hooked a left down a hallway and up another flight of stairs. He unlocked a door and motioned for her to step inside.
The girl entered what looked like a small office. There was a desk and several chairs scattered around the room, floor pillows for thoses who wished to sit on the floor, and a bookcase that was stuffed with books on different subjects. The man sat at his desk and pulled out a piece of parchment paper and a quill.
“What’s your name?” he asked her kindly, waving towards the chairs.
The girl sat down on a pillow before answering.
“Clara,” she whispered. “I don’t know what my last name is.”
“So you’re an orphan?” he asked her compassionatly, pausing for writing.
Clara nodded, blushing as she looked at the handsome man in front of her.
“You’re fourteen; your birthday is?” he asked her, returning to his writing.
“August fourteenth,” she mumbled.
“Are you a virgin?” he asked her.
She nodded, looking away from him and towards the bookcase.
“Go on, Clara. You may choose a book to read if you want,” the masked man told her with a small smile.
Clara stood up and walked over to the bookcase. She examined the spines of the books for a moment before pulled a volume off the shelf. Clara smiled as she held Dracula by Bram Stoker. She opened the book and inhaled the scent of parchment and ink.
“Thank you,” she whispered softly, hugging the book close to her chest.
“You’re welocme,” the masked man smiled at her gently. “May I see your body?”
Clara nodded before shedding her cloak to reveal a shabby dress in a faded yellow color. She began to undo the buttons, strugging at the last few buttons. The man sighed before rising to help her. Once the last of the buttons were undone, she slowly peeled her dress off of her rail thin body. What the man saw horrified him.
Thin scars criss crossed her body, starting on her legs and whipping up her back and ending on her stomach. a few of the scars looked to be infected, with yellow and green puss oozing from the angry lash marks and blood mixing from the open sores. The second the dress was off, the sores opened, bleeding trails of pus down her body.
The masked man swore savagely before leaving the room for a moment. When he returned, he had a bottle with purple liquid and some bandages in hand. He knelt down next to her, reaching out with a small cloth soaked with the vial smelling medicine.
“Hold still,” murmured the man softly, dabbing the cloth onto her open sores. Clara winced in pain as the kind man continued to take care of her wounds. “Who did this to you?” he growled softly.
“The owner of the orphanage that I used to live in,” she sniffled. “I ran away.”
“I don’t blame you,” muttered the man, squeezing the pus from the wounds. Clara cried out in pain as he broke several of the scabs to release the infected fluids from her back. He turned her around so that was she was facing him. He stopped when he saw the size of her breasts.
They were rather large for a girl of fourteen years, and well developed as well. Her nipples were perky in the chilly night air, pointing at him like mountain peaks. Her stomach was flat as a plane and the rest of her body was well formed with muscles.
The man rocked back on his heels before attending the rest of her infected wounds. Once he had finished dabbing the medicine into the open sore, he wrapped bandages around her body, cacooning her like an Egyptian mummy. Just as he finsihed, he noticed her ratty dress and looked at her.
“I’ll be back in amoment with another dress for you to wear until I can find someone to go into town with you for new clothes, alright?” the man told her with another smile. Clara just nodded before curling herself up onto the floor with her book.
The man left the room for only five minutes, but when he returned, he found that Clara had fallen asleep, wrapped up in her cloak as a blanket.
The man smiled faintly at the sight of Clara sound asleep with the book clutched still in her hands. He bent down and scooped up the frail girl into his muscular arms before turning and leaving his office.
When he entere his bedroom in the basement of The Peacock Feather, he noticed that Clara had grabbed onto the lapels of his cloak and was holding on for dear life. He quickly settled her into his bed before going out to lock up for the night.
He sighed heavily as he twirled his keys around on his finger.
Tonight was going to be a long night.