Help Not Wanted. (Closed)

[Esmeralda Mendez]

“I’m not going.” Ezzie told her mother stubbornly as she folded her arms across her chest. Her mother was crazy! She was insisting once again that Ezzie go visit a physiatrist. Ezzie did not need to call a psychiatrist to solve her problems. She was perfectly capable of solving whatever ‘problems’ she had on her own. Ezzie didn’t really see that she had a problem. She didn’t want to be ‘cured’ or fixed by some stranger with a clipboard taking notes on Ezzie’s behavior. She wouldn’t have it. “Esmeralda, you must! It’s for your own good!” Ezzie’s mother said in an even thicker Spanish accent than Ezzie’s. She had only been speaking English for a month or two, and she was already quite good at it. Much like her daughter, Elena Mendez was a fast learner.

“Mami! What can they possibly do to help me? I don’t need help at all! I can handle my problems on my own!” Ezzie protested, folding her arms over her short black shirt. The t-shirt was originally very tight on Ezzie to begin with, but she had cut the shirt to be even shorter in an effort to show off her new belly button piercing. Her tight dark jeans were a size too small, but in a day or two, they would fit perfectly. She tapped her black painted nails against the coffee table in frustration. All she wanted to do was go to Casey’s house and maybe spend the night over there. Casey’s family had become almost like Ezzie’s family since Ethan died. Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs were busy with their own lives, and didn’t seem to care much for Ezzie anymore now that Ethan was gone.

Ezzie’s mother had practically devoted herself to a local church down the block and spent more time in the church than she did sleeping. Septimus was completely unpredictable, but that was how she had always been, even before Ethan’s death. Casey and her family seemed to be the only few left who even cared Ezzie existed lately. Everyone else either hated Ezzie or ignored her completely. It was just so unfair. Ezzie remembered her last concert. It had been two days ago, on the day after Christmas. There were thousands of seats left empty because Ezzie just couldn’t be trusted anymore. Everyone had turned against her, and it was all because of Holly Sinclair. If that blasted woman hadn’t said those things, then at least Ezzie would still have her dignity, and of course a portion of her old fans. Nowadays, Ezzie got more hate mail than fan mail. Sometimes, there would be days when not one positive word was said about her.

“Esmeralda, you are such a typical teenager! You’re going, and that’s final!” She scolded to Ezzie, letting her last words ring out through the room. Ezzie felt tears pricking the back of her eyes, but she did not let them show. Ezzie was not going to cry in front of her mother. Crying was a sigh of weakness, and Ezzie was not weak. Ezzie felt her stomach grumble, but thankfully, her mother hadn’t heard. Ezzie hadn’t eaten a thing since Ethan’s funeral three days ago. No one, not even Casey knew of Ezzie’s new way of living, and she didn’t intend on letting them find out. She was happy with her habits, and before long, Ezzie would finally be perfect enough. Maybe, if Ezzie didn’t look like a wreck, she wouldn’t be perceived as one. Thankfully, Ezzie still had her muggle fans, who still hadn’t heard of the Witch Weekly article. But that wasn’t enough. How could anyone think such a thing of Ezzie? She was not a murderer! But suddenly, a pang of guilt hit her.

What if she was a murderer? If it wasn’t for Ezzie, Ethan would still be alive right now. If he had never met her, then he wouldn’t have wanted to defend her when she was almost shot at. Even if that hadn’t killed him, then the fact that Ezzie had suggested to go outside that day would. If she hadn’t asked him to go outside with her, Ezzie would have been shot instead. Ezzie was the one who wanted to die right now. Why couldn’t it have been her? Ezzie swallowed hard.

[Esmeralda Mendez]

The next morning, Ezzie was sitting in a long black limo on her way to the physiatrist’s office. She felt like such a freak show. She didn’t need to be here. She didn’t want to be here. Ethan was dead. It was Ezzie’s fault. That’s it, end of story. No questions asked. But no, now Ezzie was being forced into visiting the home of some stranger in Scotland, hundreds of miles from home. She could have been at home, playing her base guitar or singing in her studio. She already finished one song, and it was being sent to Alyssa so she could finalize it before Ezzie went into the recording studio in London. She wasn’t going to let Ethan’s death get in the way of her career.

Her money was slowly dwindling, and Ezzie didn’t want to go back to her old life of being a street rat, nor did she want to keep turning to Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs for money. She knew they had almost an infinite supply of it, but it just wasn’t fair to keep taking up space in their home and causing them trouble with the media if they weren’t getting anything off of it. She felt like such a charity case doing this. Ezzie kicked the back of the seat out of anger. The driver lowered the window and asked if anything was wrong. “No, Bill, I’m fine. Sorry if I startled you.” She said emotionlessly. Normally, Ezzie was a generally happy person. She was always known for looking at the brighter side of things and seeing reason behind everything. But not lately. It seemed that ever since the drama with Ethan and the media, Ezzie’s voice of reason had been blocked out b some sort of angry monster.

Ezzie swallowed hard, causing her throat to itch and throb. It was a common side effect of all the throwing up Ezzie did, but lately it hadn’t been as bad. She had simply stopped eating since Ethan died. Almost like a hunger strike, accept no one knew about it. She felt the limo stop and took a deep breath. Her mother had helped Ezzie pick the perfect physiatrist. This lady was supposedly the best in the business. She was all the way in Scotland, away from the Sinclairs and the rest of the British reporters. The lady worked from her home, so Ezzie would never be seen walking into a giant office building that basically read ‘Look at me! I’m Crazy!’ Plus, they had to make the lady sign a contract to be absolutely sure she wouldn’t spill any information about Ezzie’s sessions to the media. Ezzie sighed as she put on a giant sun hat (that she had to wear even in the middle of the winter) and a huge pair of sunglasses. To hide your face from the media as you walk out. Those reporters are sharp, especially Holly Sinclair. Alyssa had told her. Ezzie put an equally tight black sweatshirt, but did not bother to zip it up, even a little. She waited for the door to open, and in seconds, she realized that for the first time, there were no blinding camera flashes.

Ezzie had either escaped the media at last, or they simply didn’t care about her anymore. Ezzie sighed again as the giant crew of bodyguards walked with her inside the buildings. They had also been sworn to secrecy. She could tell people were staring, but she didn’t care. Let them stare. People crowded around her, yelling out her name. She ignored the cries, when two months ago, she would have stopped for autographs. She finally saw those inevitable camera flashes and took that as her cue to go inside. She walked up the carpeted stairway, and knocked on the door that was marked “Dr. Janette Daniels.” She took a deep breath as she knocked on the door. It was as if walking to her death. Oh, if only that were true.

[Esmeralda Mendez]

A small plump woman answered the door with a bright, almost sickening smile. She was far too cheery. Her dirty blonde hair was short, and it fell barely past her ears. She wore round glasses and a red dress that made her look like an oddly shaped Christmas ornament. Ezzie almost laughed at the sight of the woman. Her house was decorated just like Ezzie would have expected. Ezzie’s abuela Lucia could have lived there. The white carpeted floor was vacuumed to perfection, all the furniture was wrapped in seran-wrap-like plastic and there were ceramic figurines everywhere. Oh, this should be fun. Ezzie thought bitterly. She knew she was going to hate coming here, she just knew it. There was no point. Ezzie didn’t need some old fat lady telling what to do and how to solve her problems. Ezzie was going to have it. “Hi, Esmeralda, my name is Dr. Janette Daniels, and I’m going to be your physiatrist.” She said brightly, her yellowing teeth showing. The lady couldn’t even pronounce her name correctly. The main reason Ezzie had chosen to use Ezzie instead of Esmeralda was because most British people couldn’t even pronounce her name correctly. Ezzie rolled her eyes. “It’s Ezzie.” Ezzie corrected rudely. “Not Esmeralda.” She nodded brightly.

She had a wand in her pocket, so Ezzie presumed she was a witch. “I know. I can read.” Ezzie said bitterly, referring to the sign with the lady’s name on it on the front door. The woman’s bright perky smile dampened a little, and for that Ezzie was glad. Her perky nature was beginning to scare her. “I think we can be great friends!” She said, clapping her hands and leading her into a small room in the corner of the home. It was decorated quite similarly to the rest of the home, which made Ezzie want to throw one of the little figurines at the woman’s plump red face. “Oh, that would be just wonderful!” Ezzie said in a mocking tone, making the woman’s smile fall a bit more. But she resumed her usual perky smile after a moment. She picked up a clipboard and Ezzie cringed. Of course. Now the lady was going to take notes on her, like she was some sort of test subject. A mouse in a maze, being watched and examined. Ezzie seemed to be running around in a never ending maze, and it seemed that her cheese would never be found. The lady looked up, a worried expression on her face.

“What’s wrong, Esmeralda?” The woman said, pronouncing her full name incorrectly once more. Ezzie folded her arms against her chest stubbornly. Ezzie would rather be stranded on a deserted island than here with this physiatrist who needed to get help herself. “First of all, my name is Ezzie. If you want to call me by m full name, then pronounce it right! Esmeralda.” Ezzie said, the r rolling off her Spanish tongue. “And nothing is wrong. Other than the fact that I’m here.” She said bitterly. The woman looked taken aback. “And why not, Ezzie? I don’t bite you know.” She said kindly, writing a note on her clipboard. What Ezzie wouldn’t do for x-ray vision right now. “Well for one thing, I don’t need help. Especially not from you.” She said, almost shooting daggers from her eyes. More writing on the clipboard. She rolled her eyes. “Here, Ezzie. Have some candy.” The woman said, trying pathetically to change the subject. Ezzie shook her head no.

“Wow, you really haven’t done your research have you, lady?” Ezzie challenged bitterly. “I’ve got health issues. No sugar allowed. I don’t think my bodyguards would be very happy if I stopped breathing in the middle of your session, doctor.” Her eyes narrowed and the lady simply took a candy for herself. No wonder she was so huge. She must stuff herself with those things. “Now Ezzie, I need you to drop that anger of yours at the door. There’s no need.” She said, adding another note to her clipboard. Did Ezzie seriously have that many issues? Ezzie said nothing, and the two sat in silence for a long time. Before long, the lady was firing question after question at Ezzie. Things like “How have you been after Ethan’s death?” and “How did you feel about Ethan before he died?” Were all the main questions.

Ezzie felt like she was back in Hogsmeade being interviewed by various reporters again. She didn’t want to feel like she was being interviewed. Ezzie found herself glancing at the clock constantly, but it didn’t seem to move fast enough. Finally, about twenty minutes and fifty unanswered questions later, Ezzie only had five minutes left in the session. “Well Ezzie, your session is almost over. I’ll be renting an apartment in Hogsmeade to keep an eye on you. Your manager has agreed to take an hour off your recording sessions each week so you can meet with me, isn’t that lovely?” Ezzie groaned and the doctor sighed. “But, before we meet again, I have a task for you.” She said, straightening in her desk. Ezzie raised a perfectly sculpted jet black eyebrow. “You’re giving me homework?” The woman shook her head.

“No, not homework. Just a task. I want you to write a letter to Ethan. I want you to tell him how you feel about him dying, and what life has been like without him. I can’t wait to read it!” She said, in her usual perky tone. Ezzie shook her head. “You’re mad if you think I’m going to do that, and you’re even crazier if you think I’m going to show it to you.” The woman gave her a frown. “Now Ezzie, don’t you want to get better? Don’t you want to save your career, and show people that you really truly didn’t kill Ethan?” Ezzie was speechless. "Yes but-"

“Then this is the only way to save yourself and your career as well. I’ll expect to see it first Hogsmeade visit. You know where to go by now. But until then, you’ll have to go home. This session is over.” The woman said opening the door, leaving Ezzie speechless. She couldn’t bring herself to even think about Ethan’s death, let alone write about it. But if she wanted to save her sanity, career, and even life, Ezzie knew she had to.

((Abuela is Spanish for Grandma.))