Chapter Eighty Four

Chapter 84
The clock on the wall ticked in a steady rhythm, each second pulling the tension in the room tighter. Dr. Elara sat across from Jemima, her posture poised, a study in control. The pocket watch in her hand gleamed under the dim light, swinging gently between her fingers as she studied her patient.
"Who am I speaking to right now?" Dr. Elara asked her tone even, almost soothing.
Jemima's eyes flicked to the watch and then back to Elara. Her lips twitched the beginnings of a smirk forming.
"Who do you think?" Jemima—or rather, Jemma—replied, her voice laced with defiance.
Dr. Elara didn't flinch. She didn't break eye contact, her gaze calm and unwavering. "You tell me. I'm here to listen."
The smirk widened. "Oh, you're good. I'll give you that."
Elara leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. "I don't need compliments. I need the truth."
Jemma's expression darkened, her smirk fading into something colder. "Truth? Do you think you can handle it? Because they couldn't." She gestured vaguely toward the door where Marcus, Jay, and Ava had exited minutes earlier.
Downstairs, the rest of the family waited in a silence that felt suffocating. Marcus paced the length of the study, his movements sharp and restless. Ava sat curled in an armchair, her knees pulled to her chest as silent tears streamed down her face. Jay stood near the window, his arms crossed tightly, his jaw clenched. Dimitri leaned against the doorframe, his eyes narrowed as he watched the others.
"She's in good hands," Dimitri said, breaking the silence.
Marcus shot him a glare. "You're confident for someone who just brought a stranger into our home."
"She's not a stranger," Dimitri replied, his tone calm but firm. "She's the best at what she does. If anyone can help Jem, it's her."
"And if she can't?" Jay asked, his voice low.
Dimitri didn't answer.
Upstairs, Dr. Elara continued to probe gently but persistently. "You said they couldn't handle the truth. What truth is that?"
Jemma laughed, a hollow sound that echoed in the room. "That I'm the only one who sees things for what they are. Jemima's too weak to face it. She hides behind her good-girl act, but I know better."
"What do you see?" Elara pressed.
"I see lies," Jemma spat. "This family is built on them. Marcus, with his hero complex, pretends he cares when he's just trying to ease his guilt. Ava plays the perfect sister while she turns a blind eye to everything. And Jay..." Her voice faltered for a moment before hardening again. "Jay's the worst of them all."
"Why do you say that?" Elara asked, her tone remaining neutral.
"Because he loves her," Jemma said, her voice dripping with scorn. "But he loves her like a child loves a toy—something to cling to when it's convenient, something to discard when it's broken."
Downstairs, Jay stiffened as if he could feel the accusation being spoken.
"What's happening in there?" Ava asked, her voice trembling.
"We wait," Dimitri said simply.
Ava shook her head, her hands gripping the arms of her chair. "Waiting isn't enough. She needs us."
"She needs space," Marcus said, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.
Back upstairs, Jemima's breathing had grown heavier, her hands twitching at her sides. Elara noticed but didn't comment.
"Why do you think Jemima lets you take over?" Elara asked.
"Because she can't handle the truth," Jemma said again, her voice softer now. "She's too scared. Too weak."
"Or maybe," Elara said carefully, "she trusts you to handle what she can't."
Jemma blinked, her expression shifting. For a moment, she looked less like the defiant force that had taken over and more like a vulnerable, confused version of Jemima.
"Trust me?" she repeated, the words foreign on her tongue.
"Maybe," Elara said, leaning back slightly, "you're not just her protector. Maybe you're her partner."
Jemma frowned, her gaze dropping to the floor. The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock and the faint sound of voices from downstairs.
"Do you believe that?" Jemma asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I believe that you're a part of her," Elara said. "And that means you're just as important as she is. But right now, you're both hurting, and the only way to heal is to face that pain together."
Jemma didn't respond immediately. When she finally looked up, her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
"What if I don't know how?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"That's what I'm here for," Elara said, her tone softening. "To help you figure it out."
“You’re just like the rest of them. Trying to fix something that’s not broken.” Jemma muttered but all of a sudden she winced in pain.
Dr Elara gasped slightly, shocked by her sudden wince of pain.
“Jemma?”
“No! It’s Jemima! Ugh!” Jemima groaned as she struggled to gain control.
Dr. Elara watched in patience as Jemima battled with her inner self, struggling to regain control. After a few minutes of groaning and grunting, she was finally calm.
“Jemima?” Dr. Elara called out carefully, her eyes watchful.
“Yes. Who are you?” Jemima asked, confusion lacing her features as she took in the appearance of the doctor in front of her.
“I am Dr Elara and I’m here to help you,” Dr Elara answered, not minding that she had been through this introductory phase before.
Jemima’s gaze widened as soon as she heard that she was a doctor, “please doc, you have to help me. I don’t know what’s going on with me anymore. This thing that’s inside me is eating me up. I need to be free. I need…” Jemima’s ramble got cut short as she winced again. Pain shot through her head and Jemma appeared once again.
“Stop trying to ruin her!” Jemma yelled, tugging at her hair.
“I’m not.” Dr Elara said calmly, her gaze softened.
“Oh, but you are. All of you are. I’m the only one who’s trying to help her, who’s trying to protect her. Don’t make her remember. If you do, I’ll be gone.” Jemma ranted.
“I do understand how you’re feeling however you said and I quote, ‘I’ll be gone.’”
Dr Elara kept quiet and watched the expression on Jemma’s face morph into something she couldn’t fathom.
“I think you should go,” Jemma said, her voice hard and steady as she looked away. She winced in pain and Jemima was back again.
“I think you should go doctor, before she comes back,” Jemima’s voice was soft and sad as she turned to the other side of the bed.
Dr Elara sighed, “I’ll be back.”
Downstairs, the tension was broken by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. The family turned as Elara entered the room, her expression unreadable.
"How is she?" Marcus demanded, stepping forward.
"She's resting," Elara said. "But we have a long road ahead of us."
"What does that mean?" Ava asked, her voice sharp with worry.
"It means," Elara said, looking at each of them in turn, "that this isn't just about Jemima. This is about all of you. If you want her to heal, you need to be willing to face your truths as well."
The room fell silent, her words hanging heavily in the air.
"What do we do?" Jay asked finally.
"We start with honesty," Elara said. "No more secrets. No more lies. If you want her to trust you, you need to show her that she can."
"And if she doesn't?" Marcus asked, his voice gruff.
"Then we keep trying," Elara said simply.
For the next several hours, Elara worked with the family, guiding them through a series of difficult conversations. She asked questions that cut to the heart of their relationships, forcing them to confront the pain and resentment they had buried for so long.
Marcus admitted the guilt he carried over leaving Jemima behind, his voice breaking as he described the night he'd walked away. Ava confessed the shame she felt for not protecting her sister, her tears falling freely as she apologized.
Jay, too, had his moment of reckoning, admitting that his love for Jemima had sometimes blinded him to her needs.
Through it all, Elara listened, her presence steady and grounding. She pushed when necessary, but she also knew when to step back, allowing the family to find their way forward.
Upstairs, Jemima stirred in her sleep, her dreams filled with fragments of the conversations happening below.
By the time the sun began to rise, the family was exhausted but united in a way they hadn't been in years.
"Thank you," Jay said quietly as Elara prepared to leave.
"This is just the beginning," she said, her gaze steady. "The real work starts now and we would have to move her to the facility as soon as possible.”
As she walked out the door, the family was left with a sense of hope they hadn't felt in a long time. It wasn't a perfect ending, but it was a start.
And for now, that was enough.