Chapter Ninety Three

Chapter 93
The room felt colder than it should have. Jemima stared at the ceiling, her body curled into itself as though bracing against an invisible force. The sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, mingling with the faint hum of machinery around her.
She hated it here.
"Good morning, Jemima."
Dr. Kaine's voice cut through the silence, soft but deliberate. He stood by the doorway with his hands tucked into the pockets of his white coat. Behind him, Dr. Elara entered with her clipboard in hand, her sharp eyes scanning Jemima's form.
"Is it morning?" Jemima murmured without looking at them. "It all feels the same in here."
Dr. Elara stepped closer, pulling a chair up beside the bed. "How are you feeling today?"
Jemima closed her eyes for a moment. "Like I don't know where I end and she begins."
Dr. Kaine exchanged a glance with Elara before sitting down. "The memories are resurfacing faster now," she said gently. "It's natural to feel disoriented. But you're safe here, Jemima."
"Safe," she echoed, bitterness creeping into her voice. "If I'm so safe, why do I feel like I'm drowning?"
The silence that followed was heavy. Jemima turned her head to look at them, her green eyes sharp and accusing. "Because I remember now. I remember everything."
Dr. Elara set her clipboard down, her voice calm. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Jemima's fingers gripped the blanket tightly. The memories had started bleeding into her mind like ink into water, fragments at first—her father's voice, his shadow looming over her—but last night, the dam had broken completely. The truth had crashed over her in an unforgiving wave, leaving her gasping for air.
"I was twelve," Jemima whispered, her voice shaking. "He came into my room after everyone was asleep. I thought—I thought it was a nightmare at first. But it wasn't."
Dr. Kaine sat quietly, letting her speak at her own pace.
Jemima's gaze turned vacant as she continued. "I didn't tell anyone for months. I thought it was my fault. Maybe I'd done something to deserve it. But then it happened again. And again."
Her voice cracked, and she bit down on her lip to steady herself.
"I finally told Ava," she said, her eyes brimming with tears. "I begged her to help me, to tell someone—anyone. And she just... looked at me. Like I was crazy."
Dr. Elara leaned forward, her tone careful. "What did Ava say?"
"She said I was lying," Jemima spat, the venom in her voice surprising even herself. "She said I was making it up for attention. She told me to stop spreading disgusting stories."
Jemima's hands trembled violently as she wiped at her face. "I think that's when Jemma was born. She took all of it—all the fear, all the anger—and she locked it away. She made it so I wouldn't have to feel any of it."
Dr. Kaine nodded slowly. "Jemma protected you."
"She destroyed me," Jemima snapped, her voice raw. "Do you know what it's like to wake up one day and realize half your life isn't yours? That there's this... other person inside you who did all the things you couldn't?"
Dr. Elara's voice was soft but steady. "Jemma isn't your enemy, Jemima. She's a part of you. And right now, you're fighting to reclaim your life. That's why it hurts so much."
Jemima shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I don't want her. I don't want any of this."
"Then let's take it one step at a time," Dr. Kaine said gently. "You don't have to fight her alone."
Hours later, Jemima sat in front of the mirror, her eyes puffy and red from crying. Dr. Elara stood beside her, guiding her through another session.
"Talk to her," Elara encouraged softly.
Jemima stared at her reflection, at the tired, broken girl staring back. "She's not here," she muttered.
"She is," Elara said. "Close your eyes. Let her come to you."
Jemima hesitated before shutting her eyes. The world around her faded, and for a long moment, there was nothing but darkness. Then she felt it—a faint presence, like a whisper at the back of her mind.
“You called?"
Jemma's voice was cool and amused, the way it always was when she appeared. Jemima opened her eyes to see her reflection staring back—not her reflection, Jemma's. Her posture was straighter, her expression colder.
"What do you want?" Jemima whispered.
Jemma smirked. “I think the better question is- what do you want? You're the one dragging me out of the shadows, aren't you?"
"I want you gone," Jemima said bitterly.
Jemma's expression flickered. "You think you can erase me? After everything I've done for you?"*
"You didn't do it for me," Jemima shot back. "You did it for yourself."
Jemma's voice dropped, and for the first time, there was something vulnerable beneath her cool facade. “I did it to keep us alive. You were weak, Jemima. You would've died without me."
Jemima's breath hitched. "Maybe I would've. But at least I wouldn't have to live like this."
The two stared at each other, and for a moment, Jemima thought she saw something flicker in Jemma's eyes—regret, maybe. Or sadness.
“You'll see," Jemma murmured. "One day, you'll thank me."
And then she was gone, leaving Jemima alone with her reflection once more.
Back at the Valerian Estate, Marcus sat at the head of the table, his expression grim as the chaos around him continued to unfold. Ava paced back and forth, wringing her hands, while Jay leaned against the far wall, his face set in stone.
"Alan's still missing?" Marcus said, his voice sharp. "Dimitri says there's been no sign of him since the docks."
Ava stopped pacing. "Jon possibly cannot be the dead. He is the Mafia! Everyone reports to him and he reports to no one but the godfather. What does this mean for the mafia world now? Will the Bratva take over? Is there another war brewing?”
“Relax Ava! The million-dollar question is— who killed Jon Ross?” Vanessa inquired, prompting a heavy silence to engulf everyone as they all sat in silence.
Jay spoke up, his tone low. "The Ross family is unraveling just as fast as we are. Jon Ross is dead, Alan's gone, and whoever's behind this is still out there."
A tense silence followed before Jay added, almost as an afterthought, "What about Jemima? Has anyone checked on her?"
The room went still. Marcus frowned, glancing toward Ava. "She's still in the hospital."
"And?" Jay pressed.
Ava hesitated. "She's... not doing well."
Marcus's gaze darkened. "We don't have time for this. Jemima's been through enough. She doesn't need to get dragged into this mess. We need to fix this before she gets out because she’s getting out.”
"Maybe," Jay said quietly. "But if you think whatever's happening to us isn't connected to her, you're blind."
Marcus stiffened, but he didn't respond. The weight of Jay's words hung heavy in the air.
At the Hospital, Jemima woke with a start, her heart pounding as she sat up in bed. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the streetlights outside. She glanced toward the window, her chest tightening as flashes of her past surged forward—her father's voice, Ava's cold dismissal, Jemma's whispered promises.
She pressed her hands to her temples, tears welling in her eyes. "Make it stop," she whispered.
But deep down, she knew the truth- the memories wouldn't stop. Not until she faced them.
The door creaked open suddenly, and Jemima looked up to see Dr. Kaine standing there, his expression calm but concerned.
"Couldn't sleep?" She asked gently.
Jemima shook her head. "I keep seeing it. All of it."
Dr. Kaine stepped inside, sitting in the chair beside her bed. "You're not alone, Jemima. You don't have to carry this burden forever."
Jemima stared at him, her voice trembling. "What if I can't survive this? What if Jemma takes over again?"
Dr. Kaine's expression softened. "You're stronger than you think. Jemma was born out of your strength, not your weakness. You can take back control—you just have to trust yourself."
Jemima swallowed hard, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I don't know how."
Dr. Kaine reached out, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "One step at a time."
Jemima nodded weakly, though the doubt still lingered in her chest.
“We are going to first start by making you two talk—you and Jemma.” Dr Kaine clarified.
“How does that help?” Jemima asked, her brows knitted in confusion as Dr Elara silently placed a tablet in her hand.
“Jemma harbors resentment and thinks you neglected her while you harbor fear and think Jemma wants to destroy you. You both need to coexist, to integrate back into one and understand that one cannot function without the other,” Dr. Kaine explained as Dr Elara patted Jemima’s head.
Jemima’s throat suddenly became dry, “I'm parched,” was all the response she gave as Dr Elara handed her a cup of water.
“Sleep for now Jem, tomorrow we begin the healing sessions. We’re going to do a reversal and you’d learn to face the truth head-on— it’s the closest thing to closure you’re ever going to get.” Dr Elara mentioned, helping Jemima to lie down.
As she lay back down, her thoughts drifted to her family—Marcus, Ava, and Jay.
For the first time in years, she wondered if they'd ever truly see her. The real her.
And as the shadows crept back into the room, she couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen.