Hello!
This story has been brewing in my head for a while...I'm gonna try to get it out. Depending on the reaction of you guys, I'll keep going.
The character of Gerard is loosely based on Gerard Way, lead singer of MCR. Pretty much in looks only.
Nico
"Are you afraid of me?"
His pale skin contrasted severely with the dark as pitch locks falling into his kohl-lined eyes. Evidence of black nail polish was apparent on the nails of his right hand. His black, crushed velvet jacket covered a dark red shirt, which was tucked neatly into black pinstriped pants.
The psychiatrist barely blinked. "Do you think people are afraid of you?"
He sort of half smiled. "Why else would I be here?"
"You think you're here because people are afraid of you?" The doctor scribbled something in her notes.
"I think I'm here because there is no other suitable place for me." He replied, lighting his fourth cigarette since his daily therapy session began nearly an hour ago.
"Have you been taking your medication, Gerard?"
He leaned back onto the leather couch, leaning his head back and exhaling a plume of smoke.
"Gerard?"
"You know I haven't," Gerard answered.
"And you realize we cannot release you until I've decided you are taking your prescriptions willingly." The doctor said, her voice firm but gentle.
Gerard sighed.
"Gerard, you've made minimal progress since you've been here," the doctor began. "I'm afraid that if you don't start improving I'll be forced to check you in to Stonebridge."
Gerard nodded. This was not news to him. He had seen what seemed like hundreds of psychiatrists in the past six months, all convinced that he was in need of severe mental help. Each of the doctors had warned him that he would find himself in the old Stonebridge Mental Facility, where he would be subject to injected medications to correct his "imbalance."
"Don't you want to leave here, Gerard?" The doctor asked.
"I suppose," the young man shrugged.
"I'm sure the rest of your band mates are eager for your return," she continued.
Gerard scoffed. "That's doubtful," he said, smashing out his cigarette. "After all, they're the ones who put me here."
"They were worried about you."
"They think I'm insane," Gerard countered.
"Well, you must realize that the things you proclaimed about yourself are difficult for some to grasp."
"Not as hard as it has been for me," Gerard replied darkly. He raised his thick-lashed eyes to the large clock above the doctor's doorway.
He still had an hour of therapy left.
"I'd like to continue where we left off yesterday," The doctor said, suddenly changing the subject. "You were about to tell me about the first time you had a memory of your…former life."
"It was just before Christmas," Gerard began mechanically, feeling as if he had told the story a million times before, although it was only the second time.
The first time had been to his band mates, who promptly checked him into the finest psychiatric hospital in Paris.
"We had just left the stage at the Paris Opera House," he continued. "I was drunk." He said bitterly. "Charles and Dewey suggested we go down to the catacombs…he wanted to blow a few lines before we left."
"Blow a few lines?" The doctor interrupted.
"Cocaine," Gerard clarified.
"And was this a common occurrence?"
Gerard nodded. "We're rock stars." He informed her. "At least, we were."
"Continue, Gerard."
"After we each did a few lines we managed to travel deeper into the passageways. Eventually, we hit water," Gerard recounted. "It was a huge lake…icy cold and murky. I can't remember if it was Charles or Dewey who suggested we climb into the old boat…"
"There was a boat?" The doctor asked.
"Yes," Gerard nodded. "A sleek little number…with dusty velvet pillows and a long stick for navigating.
"Dewey and I sat in the body of the boat while Charles began to maneuver it. That's when it happened."
"When what happened, exactly?"
"When I remembered who I used to be," Gerard replied, locking a cool stare with the woman sitting across from her.
"And who was that, Gerard?"
"You know who it was."
"Are you afraid to say his name?"
"No."
"Then tell me. Who was it that you remembered?"
Gerard inhaled deeply.
"I believe I am the reincarnation of The Phantom of the Opera," he said shakily. "I have all of his memories, all of his mistakes…all of his passion and talent…I am him. He is me.
And no amount of therapy or medicine will change that, Doctor."