Chapter Seventy Nine

Chapter 79

The soft hum of the morning light filtered through the curtains, but to Jemima, it felt oppressive. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her trembling hands. Jay had left the room an hour ago, and she hadn't moved since. Her mind was a mess of tangled thoughts, half-formed memories, and an overwhelming dread she couldn't place.

“What happened to me?” Jemima wondered aloud as she kept on staring at her trembling hands

"Blacked out," Jay had said. That wasn't new—she'd had episodes before, moments of lost time she'd always blamed on stress or exhaustion. But this time, something was different. The way he looked at her... there was something in his eyes. Fear.

And not just any fear—fear of her.

She clenched her fists, trying to shake the thought. "It's just stress," she muttered under her breath. "You're overthinking this. He's worried about everything, that's all."

But no matter how much she tried to convince herself, the doubt lingered. The same doubt that had been creeping in for weeks. The whispers in her mind. The strange dreams that left her waking up in a cold sweat. The handwriting on the note.

The handwriting was hers.

Her head snapped up at the sound of the door creaking open. Jay stepped in cautiously, his face unreadable. He carried a tray of breakfast, but she could see the hesitation in his movements.

"I thought you might want something to eat," he said, his voice unusually soft.

"I'm not hungry," she replied quickly, her voice sharp enough to make him flinch. She immediately regretted it. "Sorry. I just... I need some space."

Jay set the tray on the bedside table and sat on the chair across from her, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

"Jemima," he began, his voice measured, "about last night—"

"I don't want to talk about it," she cut him off.

"You need to talk about it," he insisted, leaning forward. "Something happened, and we can't just ignore it."

Her eyes darted to his, a flicker of panic flashing across her face. "What are you talking about? I told you—I don't remember anything. It was just stress."

Jay's jaw tightened. "Stop lying to me, Jemima."

She recoiled as if he'd slapped her. "I'm not lying!"

"You are," he said firmly, standing up. "And I think you know it. Something's wrong, and it's been wrong for a long time. You can't keep brushing it off."

Her breathing quickened, her chest heaving with the effort to stay composed. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't remember anything. Why won't you just let it go?"

"Because I saw her."

The room seemed to freeze. Jemima stared at him, her heart hammering in her chest. "What are you talking about?"

Jay took a step closer, his gaze unrelenting. "You blacked out last night, but someone else took your place. She called herself Jemma. She told me things, Jemima. Things that—" He stopped, his voice breaking.

Jemima shook her head violently, backing away from him. "No. No, that's not possible. You're making it up."

"I'm not," he said, his tone softening. "Jemma said you've been through things... things you've blocked out. She said she's been protecting you."

"Stop it!" she screamed, her hands flying to her ears. "I don't want to hear this!"

Jay grabbed her wrists, forcing her to look at him. "Jemima, listen to me! She's real. She knows things about your past—things you've never told me. And the note? She admitted she wrote it."

Tears streamed down her face as she tried to wrench herself free. "You're lying! You're trying to mess with my head!"

"I'm not," he said, his voice breaking. "I'm trying to help you. Please, Jem. Let me help you."

Her strength gave out, and she collapsed into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. "I don't understand," she whispered. "Why is this happening to me?"

Jay held her tightly, his own tears threatening to fall. "We'll figure it out," he promised. "Together."

But even as he said the words, he couldn't shake the image of Jemma's piercing gaze or the venom in her voice when she spoke of Jemima's past.

The hours blurred into one another as the day wore on. Jay stayed close, watching over her as she drifted in and out of restless sleep. Every so often, she would wake up with a start, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for something—or someone.

By late afternoon, she seemed calmer, though the tension between them remained. Jay sat by the window, pretending to read, while Jemima stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"Jay?" she said suddenly, her voice small.

He looked up. "Yeah?"

"Do you believe her?"

He hesitated, unsure how to answer. "I don't know what to believe," he admitted. "But I know there's more to this than you're telling me."

Her lip quivered, and she turned away, pulling the blanket up to her chin. "I don't remember anything," she said quietly. "I swear. If she's real... if she's been part of me all this time, why wouldn't I know?"

Jay set his book aside and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "Maybe you weren't ready to know. Maybe she was trying to protect you."

"Protect me from what?" she asked, her voice breaking.

Jay hesitated again, choosing his words carefully. "She said your father... hurt you. When you were younger."

Jemima went rigid, her breath hitching. "No," she whispered. "That's not true. He was strict, yes, but he would never..."

"She said your mind blocked it out," Jay said gently. "That it was too much for you to handle."

Jemima shook her head, her hands trembling. "I would remember. I would. I—"

Her words were cut off by a sudden, sharp pain in her head. She cried out, clutching her temples as Jay rushed to her side.

"Jemima! What's wrong?"

She didn't answer, her eyes squeezed shut as she writhed in agony. And then, just as suddenly as it began, the pain stopped.

When she opened her eyes, they were different. Sharper. Colder.

Jay's stomach dropped. "Jemma," he said cautiously.

She smirked, stretching languidly as if waking from a long nap. "Miss me?"

"Why are you here?" he demanded, his voice trembling. "What do you want from her?"

"I told you," she said, sitting up and brushing her hair over her shoulder. "I'm here to protect her. But you're making it very difficult, Jay. All these questions, all this pushing—it's not good for her."

"I'm trying to help her," he said through gritted teeth.

"Are you?" Jemma shot back, her eyes narrowing. "Because from where I'm standing, all you're doing is making her more paranoid. More fragile. Is that what you want?"

Jay clenched his fists, struggling to keep his anger in check. "If you care about her, you'll tell me the truth. All of it. No more half-answers."

Jemma sighed, rolling her eyes. "You're persistent, I'll give you that. Fine. Ask your questions, but don't expect answers you'll like."

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "What happened to her? To you?"

Jemma's expression darkened, her playful demeanor slipping away. "Damien Valerian happened. And Diane. And Ava. The whole twisted family. They broke her. Over and over again, until there was nothing left. That's when I came in."

Jay swallowed hard, his throat dry. "And Jon? Alan? What's their role in all of this?"

Jemma's lips curved into a bitter smile. "They're opportunists. They saw a broken girl and offered her a way out. But escape always comes with strings attached, doesn't it?"

He hesitated before asking the next question. "What about the note? The threats?"

"That's for me to handle," Jemma said firmly. "Not you, not her. Me. So stop digging, Jay. You're only making things worse."

"I can't just sit back and do nothing," he said, his voice rising.

"You don't have a choice," she snapped, her eyes blazing. "This is bigger than you. Bigger than her. Stay out of it, or you'll get hurt. And trust me—you don't want to see what I'm capable of."

Her words sent a chill down his spine, but he refused to back down. "I'm not afraid of you," he said, though his voice wavered.

Jemma laughed softly, shaking her head. "You should be."

Before he could respond, her eyes fluttered shut, and she slumped forward. When she opened them again, they were filled with confusion and fear.

"Jay?" Jemima whispered, her voice trembling. "What... what just happened?"

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as tears streamed down his face. "It's okay," he murmured. "I've got you. I won't let anything happen to you."

But deep down, he knew the battle was far from over.
He would have to take her to a psychiatric ward but first, he’d tell Marcus.

It was the only way.