Addie cast a furious glance at the music in front of her. She was but an inch away from throwing her cello at the wall. Although she had practiced for hours every day until her hands were so sore she could not bear to even lift the bow she still had not been accepted to play for the upcoming opera, Amour et Trahison.

Edward had been accepted. The fact that he was male and took private lessons with one of the most respected composers in Paris obviously influenced the concert master's decision. Addie felt her fists clench and teeth grind at the thought. She couldn't be angered with Edward; he was after all so kind. Edward had helped her countless numbers of times to understand different dynamics, bow strokes, and fingerings.

"He'll do much better then I could have done," she thought to herself, "but does he have this passion I do? I never see it on his face. When I play I become so intoxicated with the mood. I forget the world around me and all I know is music."

Addie sighed and returned to practicing her piece. Although she was not accepted to play in the upcoming opera she might have a chance in getting a seat in la nuit entière if she were to practice. She stared at the buzz of 16th notes rolling her eyes. This rhythm was tricky. Normally there was a beat she could easily count in her head and memorize, but this was constantly changing. This would be a piece she couldn't rely on her good ear to tune.

Since the time she was a young child, she possessed the ability to play songs in a matter of seconds without any sheet music on any instrument. She was always aware of any time something was out of tune. It was only her reading skills she had difficulty with.

Addie forced herself to clap the beat in attempt to understand the tempo, but after minutes of getting nowhere she sighed and decided to retire for the night. She gathered her music and slipped it, along with her bow and cello, into the case, then loosened the bow and inserting the end pin. She slowly spun around the room realizing she was still on the stage of the opera house.

"It must be past 12:00," she realized after noticing her headache from lack of sleep and the darkened room only lit by her small lantern.

She slowly walked down the stairs of the stage carrying her cello by the neck in front of her and made her way back to the corridor of small rooms. She preferred to hold her cello by the neck because she tended to get into accidents.

Madame Giry kindly allowed Addie to move into a small room a week ago after the tragedy of having her house burnt down. Along with her house went her money and memories of her deceased parents. They had left this world of tuberculosis, such a terrible death that she had witnessed. She often woke up with a cold sweat reliving the horrors of her mother shaking violently as she coughed up blood and the last glassy-eyed stare she had given in her lifetime.

Addie stopped at the now familiar door and leaned her cello against the wall as she turned the knob. She suddenly regretted that action when her cello came falling forward but she quickly caught it as it came down on her hard in the chest. She grunted after she regained her breath, half relieved that nobody had been present to witness such an embarrassing moment. Every decent cello player knew well enough to lay their cello on the side, but she was too tired and angry to do so. She gently placed it down the proper way and sat down at her desk.

Her room contained a small desk with a mirror and a bureau with four small drawers. Then there was a small one person bed with dull white sheets. Everything in the room was this dull white color. She was grateful that she was benefited with a place to stay, but the room wasn't as comfortable as her luxurious room back home with goose feathered pillows and antique faded brown furniture.

She stared at herself in the mirror to see a squinting face look back at her. She had wavy dark brown, almost black shoulder-length hair that drove her crazy, and a pale complexion that she tried desperately to maintain. What girl didn't want dark hair and pale skin these days? Her eyes were a lighter brown honey colored. She was skinny but had more volume in certain areas. She simply hated her butt size and wide hips although friends had tried to convince her it made her appear older and more mature. Her friends, being younger envied her breast size as well, but Addie hated looking so old. She hated when men old enough to be her father looked at her in a way that sends chills down her spine. She was only 17 after all. She knew what happened in the dark alleys of crowded Paris streets too well. Despite all of this, she didn't see the beauty in her at all.

"What do they see that I don't?" That thought had always lingered in her mind. The disgusting truth of what they really wanted she tried to rid from her thoughts.

Addie stood up and collapsed on the bed and in a matter of minutes fell into a deep sleep.