Disclaimer: I do not own the short insert of Sarah Brightman's original Phantom of the Opera.
A/N: Hi! The convention was fun though very tiring. The good news was one of our own people was voted for District Governor—GO SABRINA! Can I get a hoo-hah! HOO-HAH! Lol. Just a little hyper at the moment and poor Emmy all right. But there's more! Thank you Halley for a lovely hoo-hah worthy job and please don't forget a review! Maybe I'll try to get Erik to give a hoo-hah for you all!
Chapter Twenty-One:
An Intervention
Emmy was near tears by the time she reached home. She paused outside and stared in her drive-way. Her father's SUV was there. That's odd, she thought but she was far too upset to think more on it. The humiliation she endured in front of Trey Michaels had scarred her forever. He probably thinks I'm some kind of loony, she thought as a tear spilt.
She went inside to find Gloria and Will waiting for her. Both had a set of grim expressions that it took a few moments for Emmy to piece it together. The car… Dad never went to work…
"Amelia, we need to talk," Will started. "Not later. Now."
Her mother motioned her to sit on the recliner adjacent from the sofa where the Sawyers were seated in. Emmy obeyed, dreading of what will transpired. Did she have the courage to tell her parents, which she mustered for Trey? She inhaled deeply.
"Sweetie, your mother and I have been noticing a lot of changes taken place, most of which we're concerned. You and Maggie have seemed to have lost contact; you destroyed your Phantom of the Opera collection, something I'm trying to swallow still, and you've been distant all the time and frankly we don't know what to do. We thought you would come to us first but…" her father trailed off.
"Amelia we heard you the other night. Actually, more than one occasion and you have us worried," Gloria said, a maternal fear creeping into her countenance. "Please tell us what is going on."
Emmy opened her mouth to speak, but the words later died. She couldn't do it. She couldn't bear to be rejected for her insane story again. Not by her own parents. She was a coward.
The silence stretched on, something they had feared would occur. If their daughter wouldn't be candid for them, then they had no other option but to seek help elsewhere. How did seventeen years of raising Amelia lead to this?
Will searched her crestfallen face and sighed. It's the only way, he reasoned much to his chagrin. The only. "In case of this, your mother and I already set up an appointment with Dr. Ivan Stanton at Willow Hospital. We want you to see him and maybe he could find out what's happening."
Gloria squeezed her husband's hand and turned to Emmy, hoping she would respond. When nothing of the kind did, salty tears were falling silently. "Emmy, please, say something," she pleaded.
Emmy looked up; her heart pang at the sight of her parents. They were good, they did not deserve this. They did not deserve a daughter who had willingly given up her soul to the devil. She would give anything to see them happy, not forlorn because of her misdeeds. And if doing this would make them happy, she could at least try. Perhaps this Dr. Stanton could help.
"Okay."
xxXXxx
The next day, Emmy and her parents drove to the hospital once leaving Tony at a friend's house. The Sawyers kept it hidden from him, not wanting any attention to be brought upon Emmy. They knew she appreciated it and she did.
Dr. Ivan Stanton was head of the Psychiatric Ward, one of the best in the local area. Emmy heard about him in her Psychology class last year and "met" him when he came to speak to them about the different types of mental disorders. She never imagined herself to be evaluated in a psych ward of all places. To say she was nervous was an understatement.
Dr. Stanton's office was pleasant enough and he was friendly towards her and her parents. They discussed her situation while Emmy looked around from her seat. Various awards and certificates decorated the ivory wall and a couple leaf plants covered the corners behind his desk. The sleek oak-stained desk was covered with papers and a few photographs of him and his family. Emmy smiled at the young-looking doctor compared to the real aging one.
He was slightly rotund in his cleaned suit and tie, a couple of fingers was swelling including his left ring finger where the golden ring was embedded. He had a grandfatherly appearance with his soft, quiet gray eyes and little wire-rimmed glasses; his hair all gray with a little bald spot on top. His voice was soothing and rhythmic, wise and sincere.
She liked him right away.
After about twenty-minutes, Will and Gloria were shown out so Dr. Stanton could speak to Emmy alone. He would want to hear her side of it and she could feel some of her strength returning to do the deed.
"Amelia," Dr. Stanton said. "You've been a fan of The Phantom of the Opera for how long?"
"My whole life until now," she answered softly. "I'm recovering."
He nodded. Leaning forward, he laced his fingers together and rested his elbows on the desk. "Your parents are very worried and from they told me over the phone and in here, so am I. Do you feel comfortable enough to tell me what's been going on?"
She rocked a little in her seat, her petite body quivering as she nodded her assent. He smiled graciously and sat back, waiting for her to take action of the conversation.
Emmy wracked her brain, trying to think what she should say first and decided the beginning would be the obvious choice. Before she went further, she waited to see if any objections would take place. So far she was in the clear and how long it would last she wasn't sure but wanted to make most of the time she had was well spent.
"Okay, it happened about a year ago in December. A college boy, Thomas Myers, disappeared and several months later his girlfriend, Shirley West, went missing too. She was later found dead of cardiac arrest and two other girls met the similar fate," Emmy began her sordid tale.
Dr. Stanton's brow furrowed, nodding in recollection of the terrible events. "True. And how does that relate to you?"
"Everything," she replied. "After Thomas Myers was gone, I heard a voice singing in my school's auditorium. I was curious and went to see who it was but there was no one. I thought it was this one guy but turned out it wasn't him. Instead, it was him. Erik, the Phantom of the Opera."
"The Phantom of the Opera?" Dr. Stanton repeated.
"Yes. He's only alive through Thomas. You see, I always wanted to be like Christine Daae, to sing like her and to be her. I wanted my Erik. So when I finally was introduced to the voice I heard, I asked for singing lessons and I was granted them under some conditions—to tell no one and step forward when the time to repay them came.
"I didn't think for the least second what he meant by that. I was too happy and excited to learn to be a great singer, to perhaps out sing Sarah. I threw myself vigorously into my lessons, forgetting the people that mattered most to me. I was…I was in this state of euphoria when I was near him. I never wanted it to end. In the beginning of this school year, I was allowed to see him."
"You hadn't seen him before?"
She shook her head. "I only heard his voice directing me. The night he came I don't remember. It was the first of several instances where I would physically be with him but black out. I was found by Sarah and her boyfriend the last time and it was then, I think, my parents thought something was wrong. I couldn't tell them, for the life of me, and I would lie. I couldn't stop lying, to protect the truth and I didn't know why. My voice changed dramatically and I would hear this voice in my thoughts, always pestering me and urging me to do what it says. I was scared, Dr. Stanton. Then I found out…"
"Found out what, Amelia?" he asked, gesturing her to go on.
"I found out that Erik had Christine Daae possessed me," she broke out in a sob. "I figured it out when I didn't want to sing and the voice just came out on its own. She did it. I had no control and sometimes she takes over completely and I helplessly watch and can do nothing. My straight hair became all curly like hers and she was responsible for hurting my best friend and preventing me from telling anyone the truth."
"But you're telling me now. That's a good sign, isn't it?" Dr. Stanton pointed out, a gentle smile on his lips.
Emmy sniffled. "For now. I just can't get her or him out of my head. They're there in my dreams, my thoughts, and all over! I can't escape, there is no escape ever. Those college girls were killed by them and I'm still here. I'm still here and I'm not. I'm here and I'm not…"
He handed her a box of tissues and quietly chewed over what she said. Never in his whole profession had he ever come across a problem such as this. Fictional characters possessing real people? Dr. Stanton would have thought it was some joke, but this girl was so distraught and terrified that it couldn't be a farce. Somehow, this tortured girl didn't appear like the sort of person to make up an outrageous story. But there was one way to find out…
"Amelia?" Dr. Stanton murmured. "You said he taught you to sing. How were you before?"
"Horrible," came her muffled response from behind the tissue.
"Do you—Do you think if you were all right, you could perhaps demonstrate how you do now?"
Emmy removed the Kleenex from her mouth and frowned. Should I? Would that cause her to take over? God, Amelia so far he hasn't turned you down, this might be the proof he needs to help. Do it!
She gulped. "Uh-huh. But if anything amiss happens, please remember it isn't me."
Dr. Stanton pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose and nodded. "All right Amelia. I believe you."
His words, "I believe you", was all she needed to hear to know she wasn't alone anymore. Taking a deep breath, she sang the first song that came to mind, which ironically wasn't a suitable one in the circumstances.
"Beneath the opera house
I know he's there.
He's with me on the stage,
He's everywhere.
"And when my song begins,
I always find
The Phantom of the Opera is there
Inside my mind…"
"That would suffice, my dear," Dr. Stanton interrupted, his gray irises wide as his lenses. "I…I…never heard anything like this before. And you say Christine Daae is in you?"
"Yes sir," Emmy replied solemnly.
He stroked his chin, pondering the next step he should take. This wasn't a usual case by no means. Looking intently at her, Dr. Stanton pushed himself out of his desk and walked over to sit on the edge. The desk groaned but he ignored it.
"Amelia, I have to tell exactly what you told me to your parents understand? But I want you to know that I intend to do whatever I can to assist you. I need a hundred percent of your trust."
Emmy nodded. "Yes sir." And very quietly she whispered, "Am I insane?"
The heart-stopping question brought on sympathy from the old doctor. "No Amelia. Don't ever think that. You are very brave to come forward with your fears and I see the determination in you to fight this. I'm no magician, mind you, but I'll do whatever is best for you. There is something, however, I would like to ask of your parents and you may wait outside my office if you like."
"Okay." Emmy stood up and shook his hand. "Thank you Dr. Stanton. Thank you for listening and believing me."
She walked out the door only to have her parents come rushing in, anxiety riding their faces.
"Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer, you may want to sit down for what I have to tell you."
xxXXxx
Emmy sat, playing with her thumbs as Dr. Stanton was busy with her parents. For the first time, in a long time, since she broke her collection she felt another heavy weight lifted off her shoulders. She had no regrets in confessing to a stranger and hoped that her parents would take to heart like he had done. She truly felt she made some progress in the right direction.
Looking around, she had no fear in being here. In fact, she felt a sense of peace. She felt untouchable from the darkness that awaited her night and day in her home and school. Here, she noticed, she felt liberated.
The door to Dr. Stanton's office opened and out emerged were the Sawyers—tear-stained and pale was their countenances. Dr. Stanton followed behind, his face still holding the same gentle quality, as he came to kneel in front of Emmy.
"I asked your parents for you to stay here for a while so I can keep an eye out. I understand if you want this to be private and so I would like it if you can come back next Friday and stay for the weekend. No one will ever have to know."
Emmy gazed for confirmation from her parents, but both had apprehension hanging over their eyes and faces. Returning her attention to Dr. Stanton, Emmy nodded.
TBC…