A/N: Hi everyone! Here's another chapter and some good stuff. Thank you Halley for doing a good job! Please don't forget to review!

Chapter Eighteen:

They'll Always Be There

"What's this? Emmy hates the Phantom now? Has the world gone nuts!" Tony jested, as he watched his sister gathering the trash from the house, along with a few extra Phantom items that she had missed in her storm of wrath.

"Are you sick?" Tony continued, laughing.

"Shut…" Emmy turned on him, her eyes flashing. "UP!"

Tony flinched at her tone. "I was only kid—"

"Stuff it Tony," Emmy bitterly interrupted. "You don't know anything."

She left him with her cryptic message as he looked on with confusion.

Emmy was all too glad to toss the last bag at the edge of the street for the garbage men to pick up. No way was she going to donate it to charity or Salvation Army. It deserved to be in the dump with rotten garbage.

Wiping her hands, she smirked with triumph and turned to head back into the house. She managed a few steps as a sudden bout of pain hit her forehead, causing her to stumble. Groaning, she pressed her hands to her head, shaking. Then a shrill, demeaning voice resonated:

Do you think that will stop us? Think again Amelia. Erik never loses.

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up," Emmy muttered. "Stop it!"

And we'll be there forever and forever, the singsong voice giggled. Just the three of us!

With a burst of speed, Emmy ran into the house, trying to flee the invisible being. This was getting out of hand!

I agree. But we won't have that problem… soon.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Emmy shrieked at the top of her lungs.

"Amelia Brooke!"

Emmy's eyes widened as her parents and brother stood staring at her. She could practically hear the snickering coming from Christine.

"I-I" she stuttered.

"Honey, you're as white as a ghost!" Gloria Sawyer walked over and felt her forehead. "You're cold as death!"

"Please, no," Emmy whimpered, backing away. "Stop…"

"Amelia, what's wrong? Talk to us," her father pleaded, coming over. "You've been acting strange lately. Is it school or what?"

"Get…" she gritted her teeth, her brown eyes increasing with alarm. "Away… from… ME!"

She pushed her mother out of the way, running into her bedroom, slamming the door.

Gloria and Will gaped at each other in astonishment. The silence was broken as Tony cackled, "Teen hormones."

xxXXxx

Pacing wildly in a circle, Emmy went on muttering to herself.

She was losing it. She knew it and her family must certainly know by now. But what to do? What to do?

Night came too quickly and she paused to look out her window.

Everything seemed too quiet. Too peaceful.

Something has to happen.

Chewing her bottom lip nervously, Emmy fiddled with her fingers as she gazed out. The voice inside her head settled down and she was in control. Control… How wonderful it felt…

But everything comes to an end eventually.

It's been weeks since he made any sort of contact and as a huge of a relief it was, there was something foreboding about it.

Why wasn't he here? Why wasn't he talking to her?

Emmy wasn't sure what was worse: having him present or not at all.

As much as she preferred the latter it still felt out of place.

Then she did the unthinkable.

Her thumb was in her mouth. She had regressed to the childish act of thumb sucking to chase away the jittery fears. But she felt her nerves lessen and she liked that. She liked feeling not scared. And not scared she was at the very moment. Not scared. Not scared.

Emmy pulled it out with a loud "pop" and closed her blinds.

Tonight she won't think about anything. Her mind will be blank and blank it shall continue to be the next day and the next. Nothing can happen if you don't think about it. Don't think. Don't think.

Emmy climbed into bed, holding the covers close to her chest. Don't think, she told herself. Don't think and you'll be fine. Everything will be fine.

xxXXxx

She was on stage, finishing her aria to the full crowd. Tremendous applause erupted as she bowed dramatically to the ground; tears glistened in her hazel irises.

Is this how it felt to be adored?

Around her feet were trinkets and bouquets and bouquets of flowers. But the one gift that caught her attention stood from all the rest—a crimson rose with a black ribbon tied on the stem.

She shivered, bending down to pick the bud up. Eyes flicking across the audience, she scanned for the deliverer.

(Don't think. Don't think of him.)

Before her, he appeared. The pale-white mask gleaming as his gloved hand stretched for her to take.

"Amelia…" he whispered.

"No," she murmured, clutching the rose to her breast. "No more!"

(It's a dream.)

He stepped forward; the fiery gaze of his orbs pierced her soul. "Come to me," he ordered, his voice gruff and commanding.

"NO!" she screamed.

"But you promised," he countered. "You made a promise, one of which must be uphold."

(Wake up.)

"I didn't want this!" she screeched. "I didn't want my life to be taken over by your dead girlfriend!"

"Who said I was dead?"

She whirled around, her heart stopping as she saw herself.

No… not her… but her!

"What's the matter? I thought you said you wanted to be just like me!" The lost Amelia threw her head back and laughed gleefully. "We're two of a kind, don't you think?"

"No…" Emmy gasped, horrified as the Phantom and her twin moved closer. "You're not real! You cannot be real!"

"Keep telling yourself that," Christine/Amelia laughed. "But you can't escape Fate."

(Not real. Wake up.)

Erik reached out, his nails biting her shoulders. Emmy squirmed in his grasp and refused to meet his eyes as he lowered his face to hers, in a sneer.

"Why resist child? Haven't you always wanted the Phantom to be your lover?"

She looked up, terrified, just as his mouth crushed hers in a cold, malevolent kiss. Her arms flailed in an attempt to free herself and her scream was muffled as his teeth and lips pressed deeper against her.

He drew back, a wicked grin flashing as blood dribbled down his lips. "You're mine Amelia. No one will help you. No one will ever believe you. You belong to me."

Emmy's body finally jerked awake. Her brow was drenched with sweat, her breathing off-kilter. The nightmare had been too real for comfort.

Rubbing her face with her hands, she felt something oddly wet and gazed down at her palms.

Streaks of blood stared at her.

TBC…

Honestly, I don't know if I like this chapter. I might rewrite it. Please tell me what you think!