2

"Cure her?" Although Dr.Monroe tried it he couldn´t keep a look of utmost superiority out of his face. Some people knew nothing about the complexity of the human mind. "It is far too early to make a prognosis about that, Mr.Bailey." The man stopped dead and stared at him. But it was his wife who spoke: "Then why did you ask us to come here?". The doctor leant back in his comfortable chair. "You see, the extraordinary part of your daughter´s medical history is how rapidly her situation got worse.", he said matter-of-factly.

"Tell me about it!", Alfred Bailey remarked cynically. "Ten weeks ago Maria was a normal young woman. She worked as a waitress, had a nice boyfriend and…" "Fiancé!", Katherine corrected, rummaging in her handbag. "They wanted to marry next summer. That´s the two of them!" She pulled out a photo and placed it on the desk. It showed a girl with long, dark hair and a blonde man in front of a large building.

Dr.Monroe took a closer look. Architecture was one of his hobbies. "Interesting scenery!", he muttered. "Where was it taken?" "Maria and Peter spent a weekend in Paris. It has to be some old opera house, I think.", Mrs.Bailey informed him. Quite suddenly the mask of indifference slipped, and her voice became soft. "This was the last time my little girl was really herself. As soon as she got home it started."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Hey! What´s the matter with you?" The girl waved a hand in front of Maria´s eyes, which had become unfocused. "It´s very rude not to listen when your dear Angela is friendly enough to tell you something." She waited for a reply but when none came she simply continued after a few seconds: "You don´t talk? Again, nothing unusual. Well, at least you´re looking at me now, so I guess I can repeat now what I´ve said earlier."

Maria tilted her head to one side. "I take this as a ´yes´.", Angela commented drily, thought she wasn´t sure whether it had been a reaction to her. But being picky was no good in the asylum, that much she had learned in the five months since her family had brought her here. For someone who liked the sound of her own voice as much as Angela it was vital to find a person who listened to her, and actually she preferred the ones who didn´t talk themselves.

"Of course I´m not telepathic.", she told Maria. "But I overheard people taking about you when you arrived." She closed her eyes to concentrate, then opened them again to state: "Maria Bailey, 18 years old, only child. First signs of odd behaviour about ten weeks ago. Extremely vivid hallucinations. Hears the voice of one ´Angel of Music´. Did I leave anything out?". Grinning she clapped a hand on the girl´s shoulder. "If you want to know something about anyone … Hey, it´s not fun when you don´t listen!"

Let her talk! What does she know? Maria smiled. ´There you are, my Angel of Music! I missed you.´ I missed you as well, Christine. His voice covered the girl like a warming blanket. But we have to be careful! You know where you are, don´t you, child? These people could separate us – forever! ´I don´t want to lose you.´ Don´t worry about it now! Just close your eyes…

I opened my eyes and found myself in front of the mirror in my dressing room. " That was excellent, Christine. You really sung like an angel. One more song, and we´ll be finished for tonight." My cheeks blushed with pride. My teacher was rarely that enthusiastic with his comments. Today he sounded unusually pleased with something. This gave me the possibility to ask a question I had thought about for a while: "Why are we rehearsing all the songs from ´Hannibal´? I´ll never have the chance to perform them on stage.". For a second I was sure I had heard him chuckle, but dismissed the idea as impossible. That wasn´t like him. "You shall see, Christine, you shall see. And now let us continue!" I picked up my music book and started singing.