~~~~ "I can feel the warning signs running around my mind". ~~~~
~~~~ "I wish I could've turned the clocks around, but the weight of this world is pulling us down ~~~~
Some inspiration for this chapter and the next chapter came from the Netflix film, To The Bone.
Lich's POV:
It has been two weeks since I changed Gemma's medication. It seems to have worked, she has stopped having episodes and is sleeping throughout the night. However, the time has come for Gemma to start talking. Recovery is more than just taking pills, it is about discovering emotions and challenging them. The sooner Gemma accepts how she feels, the easier those feelings will be to manage.
Tara's POV:
These past few weeks have been the happiest I have ever been. Yes, the situation with Gemma dampens the mood, but since she has been practically comatose with medication, Jax has been throwing himself into the role of a doting father to be. Just the other day, he bought a baby-grow to surprise me. A beautiful shade of yellow, a colour to appease both genders. It feels like I am in a bubble, nothing can ruin my mood.
Yet, the guilt for feeling so overjoyed is beginning to creep in. It is like a mould ruining the taste and texture of a sweet strawberry.
Jax's POV:
The thought of being a father is just amazing. I wanna be like my old man. Well, from what I can remember of him anyway. He was kind, funny and one hell of a worker. An inspiration in many ways. But, by hell or high water I am gonna stick around for my kid. My own dad was unable to do that.
And at the minute, so is my mom.
My mom. Shit. I was so devastated when we got to the hospital and couldn't tell my ma the good news. She was knocked out, given some new medication of some sort. Barely told us why. I was so pissed, like, I am entitled to know why mom is being placed on stronger meds!
Tig's POV:
Ever since I heard Gemma was placed on new drugs I have been visiting the hospital every day. Before I didn't want to upset her, trigger her. Plus, I have been in the shit with Jax after giving her those pills. Me staying away from everyone has been for the best.
But not for me.
I have loved Gemma ever since the moment I laid eyes on her. Her pale complexion, her hazel eyes and her sleek hair cascading down her shoulders. Enigmatic is how I would describe Gem. The guys think I am too stupid to know such words, when in reality they are the stupid ones.
Especially Clay.
I always thought Gemma and Clay had the perfect marriage. But since that day... I've seen how toxic Clay really is. He treats her like shit. Something I couldn't imagine doing to Gemma.
I like to visit the hospital when it is dark, just before it closes to visitors. I watch her in that hospital bed, her tiny body breathing gently. Her frailty kills me, seeing what she has been reduced to. It angers me beyond comprehension. What has she ever done to deserve this?
Clay's POV:
Life has turned to shit before my eyes. Telling Otto that Luann was dead was fucking awful. I sent Jax to tell him because, I know it's harsh, but it was his fucking fault. Golden boy messed up, so golden boy has gotta deal with it.
But trying to get the club to agree on how to handle the situation has been the worst. Golden boy don't even pretend to look interested, Bobby ain't spoken to me since we fought, Tig refuses to even look at us, Piney glares at me with his unspoken hatred and Juice; I mean he is so vacant he don't know what the fuck is going on. Holding the gavel has never been so difficult, in more ways than one.
As for guns, the Irish are slippery bastards. They never give you a straight answer. So, yeah, everything has gone to shit.
And then there's Gemma.
Everyone thinks I am cold, uncaring and basically a shit husband. I mean, Tara looks at me like I am the fucking anti-Christ. I'm being ostracised by everyone, which is not fair.
They don't know how Gemma was those weeks after... Bobby's party. She didn't want to be around me, she wouldn't let me anywhere near her. It hurt. I think she blames me on some level, thinks that my bad relations landed her in that situation. Sometimes everyone acts like I was the one who bloody raped her. It ain't my fault she is fucked in the head. She never had any of this mental shit before she was used. Harsh but true.
Gemma's POV:
It feels like I have been out of it for weeks. Every time I open my eyes I feel disorientated, like I have been run over by a truck. Weirdly, it feels very nice. I can't hear her or see her, plus I am so sleepy I am able to eat less. I feel very at ease.
That is until Lich walks in. I quickly shut my eyes, hoping she thinks I am asleep.
"Gemma? I think that is the most pathetic attempt at feigning sleep I have ever seen".
I can't help but smile. "You got me. What can I do for you doc?"
"Well. I came to see how you are feeling, to see if you are ready to get back into doing our therapy sessions?"
Urgggh. That is the last thing I want. Our last conversation was so embarrassing, I can feel myself cringing as I think about it. "To be honest doc, I still feel a bit rough".
"Hmmm is that so? Because you should be feeling less drowsy by now. I could always ask the doctor to run some tests, if you would like that?"
God she is so persistent. "Very funny doc".
Lich grins at me, pulling that ' I know you' smile. "Okay, so we will meet at the usual time tomorrow morning".
"Ahh. I will book you into my diary doc, I may be a few minutes late due to my salon appointment".
"Very drole Gemma. Goodbye for now".
As I watch her leave I realise that I kinda like Lich. Not the whole therapy bullshit, but just her as a person. She is easy to have a joke with.
But I have a feeling we aren't going to get along for much longer. She keeps on pushing me, trying to get me to discuss shit that I just can't face. She thinks it will help me. I think it will break me even more. She don't get that sometimes things are better left unsaid. I do.
Unser's POV:
These last few weeks have been awful. It is like being stuck in a time warp. Life keeps going on, but you feel paralysed by a never-ending sense of dread. Fearful of what may happen, when it may happen.
Gemma has ripped my heart out, leaving me all alone with little hope. I could handle the cancer destroying me eventually, that's what you get for being a smoker. But this whole situation has annihilated any remnants of life that I had left.
The day that she told me she wanted to kill herself, I fucked up royally. I should've been calm, supportive, just anything other than angry. Yet, I lost my temper and made the situation volatile. If I hadn't of shouted, she wouldn't have hurt herself in that room. If I had of been calm, Clay wouldn't have over-reacted the way he did. If I had of dealt with the situation properly, she wouldn't have overdosed in that lockup.
I will never forget that night.
Everyone, the whole club, was sat in that waiting room. Their faces a mixture of trepidation and anger. Anger that things had escalated beyond control.
Jax was inconsolable, Tig was pacing up and down trying to figure out how we had all gotten to this point. Clay was in a trance, his body in the hospital but his mind elsewhere.
Me? I was just devastated.
So many times I have been the one to depart bad news, speaking to or calling the families of victims. Telling them that their loved one was dead, hearing them shriek with pain. I mean, every cop knows that the likelihood of a welfare check ending well is unlikely. But nothing, nothing could prepare me for receiving that call myself.
I thought finding Gemma the night she was raped was bad enough, but hearing Jax scream down the phone that his mom was going to die was... fuck... words don't do it justice. Jesus, I thought the world was going to crash down.
Ironically, that night in the hospital Gemma was in the best position. Blissfully unaware of the destruction she had caused. Her pain ceasing whilst ours was amplified. I guess that is why suicide is deemed to be the most selfish act of all.
Every time I think that, I internally reprimand myself. I can't imagine what was going on inside of Gemma's head. It terrifies me, how that switch can so suddenly be flicked. One minute you are living your life and engaging with others, the next minute you are willing to disappear and never look back. How does your mind go to that dark place? How can it ever get out of it?
Despite this, I still feel an intense, irrational anger towards Gemma. How dare she leave? How could she leave us in such anguish? I love her, and this is how she treats me? I am an emotional wreck.
Tara's POV:
I am just packing away Abel's toys when the phone rings. "Hello?"
"Hello Tara, it is Isobel. Isobel Lich".
"Oh hello! How can I help you Isobel?"
"Just a courtesy call really. Gemma is awake now, her body is adapting to the medication".
"That's great news!" Even though those words came out of my mouth, I feel like a fraud. Enjoying these last two weeks has left me riddled with guilt.
Lich continues on, "Indeed. I am restarting our therapy sessions as of tomorrow. I am hoping for a longer session with Gemma, so I was wondering if you wanted to visit in the afternoon? It would save you a pointless visit in the morning".
"Oh thank you. That is great".
"Okay. Goodnight Tara".
"Goodnight!"
I have no idea what is wrong with me. I should be happy at Gemma's progress, yet I don't want to think about her. I just want to focus on the happy things in life, just for a bit.
However, that is unrealistic. Jax's mom, my future mother-in-law, needs us. I need to put aside my feelings and focus on that. "Jax? Jax, I've got some news".
The Next Day:
Lich's POV:
Today is the day. I need to get to the heart of Gemma's problems. Being a psychiatrist with fifteen years of experience, aspersions may be cast that I feel at ease with this. The truth is, I don't. Every patient is different, and some of their stories, thoughts and feelings make my skin crawl. In some cases, their emotional baggage becomes mine. It is hard to compartmentalise work and home life.
As the door handle turns, I look up. Gemma is being escorted in by a dainty little nurse, who once again dashes away as soon as it is acceptable to do so. She makes no attempt to converse with me or Gemma.
I clear my throat. "Hello Gemma, how are you today?"
She rubs her eyes. "Tired".
"That's a good sign. You are adapting to your medication".
She exaggeratedly sighs. "If you say so doc".
"Are you ready for today's session Gemma?"
"I'm not sure to be honest doc. This whole talking shit... feels awkward".
"I know Gemma, that is why we are going to take our time. There is no need to rush or feel any sort of pressure. Just answer whatever you can, okay?"
"Right".
"So, to begin with we are going to play a word association game. I say a word and you say the first thing that pops into your head".
I watch her roll her eyes, subtle, but not subtle enough. "Fine".
"Okay, so the first word is happiness".
"Err. I don't know doc, smile maybe?"
"Gemma you are overthinking this. Just say whatever comes into your head, even if it is ridden with expletives".
"Okay". A faint smile forms on her lips.
"Let's start again. Water".
"Fire".
"Sun".
"Moon".
She is starting to engage, a positive sign. "Love".
"Hate".
"Childhood".
"Sadness".
"Food".
"Fat".
"Pills".
"Death".
"Trauma".
"Agony".
"Husband".
"Empty".
"Very good Gemma. The final word is parents".
"Useless".
"Okay. This is great. I am now going to ask you about some of your answers if that is okay?"
"I guess I don't have a choice, do I?"
"There is always a choice Gemma, but in this case it would be detrimental for you to opt out".
"Fine. Whatever".
"So, you used the word sadness in relation to childhood. Any particular reason why?"
I watch her shoulders slump. "It's just what I thought of doc. No one has the perfect childhood, do they?"
"No they don't. However, there is a reason for you thinking it was sad. Tell me who you lived with".
"My old man and my mom. I did have a brother, younger than me, but he didn't make it. The family flaw".
"That is awful, I am very sorry. How did that impact on you? I can imagine that you and your parents found it very tough".
She fixes her gaze on the window, looking out at the trees billowing in the wind. An ample opportunity for her to avoid eye contact. "I guess so. Not me, I was too young, but my parents definitely, my mom the most".
I decide to push her. "Did she ever show that in the way she acted?"
"Yeah, kinda. I mean, when I was about fourteen we got into a real bad fight. There was lots of yelling, smashing stuff and that. Anyway, she told me that she wished I had been the kid who died".
"Oh my. How did that make you feel? I can't imagine it made you feel very good".
"It was no biggie doc. People say shit when they are angry. Plus, she kinda made it clear how she felt. She never really had any time for me".
"What about your father?"
She takes a sharp intake of breath. "That's a different story. He is a great man, very kind".
"Do you keep in contact?"
"Nah. I pissed off when I was sixteen. When I came back to Charming ten years later I was married, had a kid and was part of a motorcycle club. You see, my mom disapproved big time, and dad always took her side. He was infatuated with her".
"Was? Is she no longer with us?"
"No, no. Died a few years ago of cancer. I saw my dad at the funeral. Let's say he didn't hold back on what he thought of me. Said I had destroyed mom with my lifestyle choices. Sure, a fucking motorbike must've gave her cancer".
Wow. I never expected Gemma to talk so candidly about her family. I need to take advantage of this openness. "Look, I have to ask, did you ever have body or self-harm issues when you were younger?"
She snorts. "Not in the way you're thinking doc. I didn't starve myself or anything. Like, I did a few crash diets when I was a teenager, but nothing out of the ordinary".
"Did your family ever comment on the way you looked?"
"My ma used to say things, small things. Like, if my jeans were too tight or commenting on what I ate".
"Did she make you feel fat?"
"Yes and no. I have always personally thought that I was on the bigger side. She just contributed to those feelings I guess".
"What about the self-harm?"
I watch her body tense, clearly a touchy subject. "Can we just not talk about that".
"Okay, but I am interested. How come you can talk about starving yourself but not hurting yourself? Surely, they are the same?"
" I suppose, but it's kinda embarrassing doc".
"So, you admit to self-harming in the past?"
She hesitates. "Err.. no I didn't".
"Hmm. When you were admitted to the hospital, we found evidence of old self-inflicted injuries. How come?"
"God doc! You are like a dog with a bone! Yes, a couple of times, but I don't want to get into all of that".
"Fair enough. But, do you still feel the urge to self-harm now? If so, how frequently?"
She looks at me. "I don't know doc. A lot I guess? But I ain't acted on it".
I narrow my eyes at her. "Your neck tells a different story".
She laughs. "I don't think a scratch is going to kill me doc, do you?"
"No. It isn't about the method, it is the negative pattern of behaviour that I am concerned about".
"Whatever".
I decide to change tack. "Does your husband know about your history of self-harm?"
She snorts violently. "No. The only person who knows is Unser. Wayne Unser, a friend of mine".
"I know Unser. He is a good cop".
"Yeah. Yeah he is".
"Look, I have to pry because therapy is naturally invasive, but how is your relationship with your husband?"
She turns away from me, once again seeking solace in the windows view. "Fine".
"Somehow, I don't believe that. Why?"
"Look me and my man are fine", she says snappily, her eyes remaining fixed on the window.
"How did he cope with the news that you had been raped?"
I watch her eyes widen. "Doc, I have made it crystal clear, I ain't talking about that".
"That? You mean the rape?"
"Fuck... I can't even say the word".
"With respect Gemma, I am asking you about the aftermath of the rape, not the rape itself".
"Clever doc. Real clever".
"I try. Did Clay get angry?"
"He was at first, but now, it's different".
"Why?"
"The truth is doc that he blames me. He thinks I allowed myself to get raped".
I watch as tears begin to form in her eyes. "Why would you think that Gemma?"
She furiously wipes at her eyes. "He can't even look at me. He thinks that I dress like a tart and therefore deserve to be treated like one. To him I am used now, never the same again".
"Gemma, has Clay ever said any of this to you?"
I hand her a tissue, which she gratefully receives. "No, but I know he thinks it".
"Gemma, do you think this is your own insecurities talking? Your paranoia manifesting itself in the form of Clay?"
She fiercely shakes her head. "Nah. I may be insecure, but a wife knows this shit about her husband".
"Did you ever talk to him about that evening? In detail?"
She grimaces. "Kinda. I mean, Unser and Tara already knew that I had been raped, but I never gave them the full story. A couple of weeks later, Jax and Clay were beefing. Jax threatened to leave the club and Charming itself. I couldn't have that doc. Just couldn't. So, I made them all come round to mine, and I told them what happened to me. Not all of it, obviously, but enough. Enough so they would reconcile. It worked".
"Therein lies the problem. You didn't tell them to help yourself, you did it to help them. You should have been focused on your recovery".
"Whatever. It worked and for that I am so relieved. I couldn't care less about me".
I lean forward. "But now is the time to care for yourself. You need help and most of all you deserve help".
She sniffles. "Thanks doc".
"But I want to make something clear. Whether you think it, or Clay does, that rape was not your fault. It doesn't matter whether you were fully-clothed or naked, no one asks to be raped. Rapists cause rape, not clothing choices. Do you understand me?"
"You make it sound easy doc".
"I know. But together we will get you through this. Okay?"
She nods, but her silence is enlightening. She really believes it was her fault.
"Gemma, before we wrap up, I want to talk to you about an idea for our next session".
"What? How about we go outside and then I can make a quick exit". She laughs, but she does look vaguely interested.
"Group therapy. You and your immediate family. A way to clear the air".
She puts her head in her hands, before returning her gaze at me. "You must be joking? My family? No way".
"It would be a perfect way for you and your family to discuss any issues. If not, your recovery could be hindered".
"Doc, it is bad enough that I have to talk to you about shit, never mind discussing it with Jax".
"Gemma, the session would be supervised by myself, and everyone would be given an opportunity to speak. All you have to do is write a letter, addressed to your family".
"What kinda letter? What would I have to write about? Is it formal?"
"This letter would be your chance to talk to your family about how you feel. It's about writing whatever comes into your head. Be as honest as you can. As for formalities that is irrelevant, just freestyle".
"Jesus. What about the rest of them?"
"They will all write a letter to you".
"This will be a shitshow doc, half of us can't even write properly".
"Are you willing to try?"
"Whatever, but this will be so awkward, I hope you know that".
"Thank you Gemma. Honesty for healing".
She rolls her eyes. "Now that is a shrink kinda bullshit saying".
"Well you are entitled to your opinion Gemma, but let's see what happens".
"Fucking hell doc. Whatever meds you have got me on are making me docile. I don't like it!"
I try to stifle a laugh. " I don't think we have any worries about you becoming docile Gemma".
"Hmmmphh".
"Well, I am going to arrange for this session to happen on Friday. That gives you three days to write a masterpiece".
"I ain't no fucking Martin Luther King doc".
"Try Gemma. I will speak to your family, so they can begin writing".
"Good luck with my husband, he's probably hoping I'm dead by now".
Christ, what a thing to think about your own husband. " I am sure that is not the case Gemma. Thank you for today, you have been very helpful".
"Whatever. After this group thing, can I get out? I mean, I've talked ain't I?"
"Gemma, today has been a great start. You are making progress, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. Recovery is a marathon not a sprint".
"Jesus, with sayings like that I sure feel like sprinting".
I grab my keys. "Come on, I'll walk you back".
Tara's POV:
I just clock on shift when I see Lich and Gemma walking into the ward. Gemma looks okay, still skinny but like she has more life in her. I decide to wait for Lich to come out of Gemma's room. It is always good to have a catch-up. It allows for me to prepare.
As soon as she leaves I call for her, "Isobel?"
She turns around and walks down the corridor towards me. "Hello Tara, here to see Gemma?"
"No actually, got called in to cover a shift. Do you think she will mind that she has no visitors? Jax is so busy at the club today..."
"No no. This plays into my plan quite well".
Plan? "What plan is that?"
"Well, I was going to ring you, but I guess there is no time like the present. I want to run a group therapy session on Friday for Gemma. So it will be great if you and other members of the family attend".
"Oh. So like a family session?"
"Yes. I think it would really help Gemma. It would give everyone an opportunity to be open and allow for a renewed focus on the future. Gemma desperately needs to see that she does have a future".
"Yes, of course. What would we have to do, to prepare?"
"Glad you asked. You would all have to write your own personal letter to Gemma. Detailing how you felt about her suicide attempt, how much she means to you all et cetera".
"Ahh okay. Is there anything you want us to refrain from saying? Avoid any triggering topics?"
Lich shakes her head. "No. The whole point is to be honest. Secrets have caused this damage".
"Agreed. Who do you regard as family? How many of us do you need?"
"Family can be blood-related or friends she is close to. I would recommend yourself and maybe four or five others. No more, as she may get overwhelmed".
"Right".
Lich leans towards me. "One thing. Try to avoid the use of incentives. Gemma needs to pursue recovery for herself, not other people".
"Look Isobel, I didn't want to say anything, but I am pregnant. Would that class as something I should avoid saying to Gemma, at this stage?"
She smiles. "How far gone?"
"Only eight weeks".
"Okay. So for now, I am going to advise that you don't mention it. If she hears that she will try to get better for all the wrong reasons. This session is more about telling Gemma why she needs to fight for herself".
"Yes that is perfectly fine. What time on Friday?"
"Mid-day".
I look down at my watch. "Shit, I better dash to theatre. Thanks for all you are doing Isobel".
"It's just the job. But seriously though, congratulations. I am very happy for you, as Gemma will be at the right time".
"Thank you!"
I run down the corridor and hop into the lift. I feel nervous about this session. If we say the wrong things we could set her back. I will have to make it abundantly clear to Jax that we cannot mention the pregnancy. Yet, it is not Jax's big mouth I am worried about.
It's Clay.
He was out of control that day. He exacerbates bad situations instead of helping them. To be honest he is a fucking liability.
But he has to be there. He needs to prove to Gemma that he can be the husband she desperately needs.
Even so, I have my doubts.
Gemma's POV:
About half an hour after our session, Lich dropped off a notepad and pen. Ever since then, my eyes have been glued to them.
It might just be from the shock of being allowed things in my room. I mean, they know I can't kill myself with a notepad or pen. Well, I suppose I could eat all the paper and choke, or stab myself in the eye with the pen, but neither are a particularly great way to go out.
To be honest, they are so alluring because I have no idea how I am going to write this letter. Yet, I feel drawn to them. Odd.
How can I open up to my family? How can I explain to them, what I can't explain myself? I don't understand me, so how can they understand me?
But I have to do this. I want to get out of here. So, I pick them up and put the pen to paper.
My mind is racing, my hand is moving. The pen is controlling me, helping words to form on the page.
That night ...
Tara's POV:
As soon as I left work I started making the necessary calls, arranging for a meeting at ours. Jax was perfectly happy until I mentioned Clay. Jesus, their 'who has the biggest dick beef' needs to be sorted. Gemma's health ain't a joke.
For them to stop arguing, I need to add miracle worker to my fucking résumé.
Now, as Jax and I sit waiting for the others to arrive, my body fills with anxiety. What if another fight happens? Things are so tense between everyone, with what Gemma is going through and what happened to Luann. The shit never ends around here.
I decided to ask Clay, Unser and Tig to come. Unser was an obvious choice, Gemma and him have a bond that no one else could ever understand. I chose Tig because he is so lovely to Gemma, always looking out for her. As for Clay, I didn't really have a choice. Unfortunately Gemma married him. I suppose you can't account for taste.
Jax is sat opposite me, rapping his knuckles against the kitchen table. A clear sign that he is pissed about having to see Clay. Maybe Tig as well, they fought terribly after he gave Gemma those pills.
All I can hope for is that this meeting doesn't end in another hospital admission.
30 minutes later ...
All of us are sat around the table, the unspoken seating plan ensuring that Clay and Jax are kept apart.
I was taken aback by everyone's appearance when they first arrived. Clay is a disheveled mess, Unser's eyes were red from crying and as for Tig, he just looked lifeless. A striking change from his usual persona.
After I hand everyone a beer, I clear my throat. "So, I sort of mentioned on the phone why I needed you, did I make it clear?"
Unser acknowledges me. "Yeah. The gist is that Gemma is having a group therapy session, which means we have to write letters for her?"
"Yes. All we have to do is write a personal letter to Gemma, talking about her suicide attempt and any hopes we have for her future".
Clay snorts, a menacing smile forming on his lips. "Fucking hell. I can't even write, not sure Tiggy can either. Like a fucking letter is going to make the slightest difference!"
Jax slams his fists on the table. "Stop using your fucked-up hands as an excuse! You don't give a shit about mom, you have made that clear".
"You don't know how I feel son. You ain't got no fucking clue".
I decide to interject. "Look. This isn't about your beef, it's about Gemma. Clay, if you can't sort yourself out and be there for her, don't come. The last thing she needs is more trouble".
Clay glares at me. "My son needs to reign you in".
I watch Jax grit his teeth. "I ain't your fucking son".
Tig stands up. "Will you all just shut the fuck up! Tara is right, this ain't about us. It's about Gemma".
Clay looks up at him. "It's always about her".
Tig looks taken aback. "Well she is the one who is ill Clay. You seem to be fine".
I decide to prevent Clay from answering back. "Right. You all know what you need to do, so let's end it here. You all know what you need to do. As for you Clay, do whatever you want".
Clay doesn't even bother to answer, he just gets up with his beer and slams out of the back door. I escort Wayne and Unser out of the front.
I have no idea how Friday is going to go. However, I do have a really bad feeling.
~~~~~~~ Author's note ~~~~~~~~
Hey! I hope you all have enjoyed this chapter even though it is really long! I have taken my time with this chapter as I am really passionate about dealing with such dark topics in an appropriate way. I shall approach the next chapter in a similar way.
I have decided that I will write two endings for this fanfic. The second will come under the title of alternative ending. I will give you all more details after the next chapter, so you can pick which ending you would prefer to read. Or you can read both!
As always thanks for all of your support!