Author's notes: I have no idea where this chapter came from, it kinda wrote itself during a bout of insomnia when I probably should have been studying. Realising I've neglected other characters, because I enjoy writing the other storylines so much, I decided it was about time to rectify this. This is set three months on, and contains references to self-harm.
Chapter 23: "Loyalties"
Elizabeth Corday, F.R.C.S
DuPont Drive, 21/6/02, 15:25
"Jenn, she's your daughter,"
I insisted, increasingly frustrated with my husbands distant ex. I kept cursing myself quietly for not having seen this coming.
"I was looking after her,"
I was infuriated by the suggestion that I had neglected Rachel because she wasn't mine. I had had so many thoughts and emotions to deal with in the weeks following Mark's death. Ella was starting to talk, something I always hoped he'd see, and him not being there broke my heart. I did curse myself for not seeing Rachel's strife before now, or for closing my eyes to the signs. Bloodstained clothes, long jumpers in June, blunted razors, footsteps on the stairs at all hours, used condoms in the trash. I hadn't wanted to imagine what she was doing to herself.
"I can't do this anymore,"
I pleaded with the other woman. I'd been up at 2am this morning, after another night dogged by insomnia and it was whilst walking downstairs for a glass of water that I ran into him. He hurried past me, almost ashamed, without saying a word. He couldn't be any older than Rachel herself. And all the signs that I hadn't wanted to see made sense and I knew that much as Mark would have wanted me to I wasn't strong enough to take on his daughter's demons too. I was about to speak again when the dial tone cut through the conversation.
"Nice chat, Elizabeth?"
Rachel demanded, the anger in her eyes a mere flicker of what I felt. She had adopted the typical defensive teenager stance. I felt, much as I hated it, another fight coming on.
"Rachel!"
The admonishment was delayed by shock more than anything.
"What? Don't you want me anymore?"
I rubbed my eyes, weary of her sarcasm, knowing it was her only protection from a world in which she feared her own reality.
"It isn't like that,"
"Looked like that to me,"
"I needed to talk to Jenn,"
"Sending me back are we? Going getting too tough?"
I flinched at the thought that she could even say that to me of all people. Realising what she'd said, she backed down a little.
"I know what's going on, Rachel, I've worked it out,"
"What?"
She feigned innocence, but I ran my eyes over her gaunt frame and noted the long sleeves covering her hands despite the fact that it was rising June. She was 15, she should have been in her prime, but instead her skin was dry and sallow, her thick brown hair lacked lustre. She wasn't who she had been and it would have killed Mark to see her this way.
"The pieces, they didn't make sense, but they do today. You're out of control, Rachel, and I can't cope,"
"Elizabeth…you aren't making sense,"
How could the emotion I was showing scare her so after all she'd been through with me? Unless I was too close to something she'd thought was her own sordid secret.
"Show me your arms…"
I said suddenly, changing approach. She backed off as I advanced, looking every inch the caged animal.
"Rachel…"
She turned to run but I was quicker. It was not the correct approach, but I grabbed her wrist, pulled her arm out in front of her and yanked the loose sleeve up to her elbow. I looked up, eyes inflamed, and expected to see anger and defiance but saw shame and self-loathing. Those gashes horrified, even sickened, me. What was she doing to herself? Why mutilate such perfect skin? Why slice away at her dad's memory this way?
"It makes the pain go away,"
Her tone was pitiful. I tried to ignore my own disgust, but it was threatening to overwhelm me.
"And the boys? What do they do?"
I demanded angrily, although primevally, somewhere inside I knew the answer. I knew she was seeking closeness, seeking forgiveness possibly, but in all the wrong ways and in all the wrong places.
"I'm careful, Elizabeth, I promise,"
"You're 15!"
She cast her eyes aside from me. I knew what she needed and it was the one thing I could never give her – her father back. She was seeking replacement for his love in the only way she could see how. I understood it, yet couldn't accept or condone it.
"You won't find the answers in them, Rachel, I can promise you that,"
"And I suppose you have the answers?"
"If I did, would I be in the state I'm in?"
I paused, thinking the bitterness a little out of place. I could never get used to how it tasted.
"I think we start with a coffee, then maybe we'll both talk to your mom,"
I was calming down, slightly. Rachel, surprisingly, nodded. I hoped wherever he was Mark would be proud of how I'd handled the situation, because I was.
More Author's notes: Don't know why Rachel's still in Chicago, she just is. I think it makes a kind of sense.
Chapter 23: "Loyalties"
Elizabeth Corday, F.R.C.S
DuPont Drive, 21/6/02, 15:25
"Jenn, she's your daughter,"
I insisted, increasingly frustrated with my husbands distant ex. I kept cursing myself quietly for not having seen this coming.
"I was looking after her,"
I was infuriated by the suggestion that I had neglected Rachel because she wasn't mine. I had had so many thoughts and emotions to deal with in the weeks following Mark's death. Ella was starting to talk, something I always hoped he'd see, and him not being there broke my heart. I did curse myself for not seeing Rachel's strife before now, or for closing my eyes to the signs. Bloodstained clothes, long jumpers in June, blunted razors, footsteps on the stairs at all hours, used condoms in the trash. I hadn't wanted to imagine what she was doing to herself.
"I can't do this anymore,"
I pleaded with the other woman. I'd been up at 2am this morning, after another night dogged by insomnia and it was whilst walking downstairs for a glass of water that I ran into him. He hurried past me, almost ashamed, without saying a word. He couldn't be any older than Rachel herself. And all the signs that I hadn't wanted to see made sense and I knew that much as Mark would have wanted me to I wasn't strong enough to take on his daughter's demons too. I was about to speak again when the dial tone cut through the conversation.
"Nice chat, Elizabeth?"
Rachel demanded, the anger in her eyes a mere flicker of what I felt. She had adopted the typical defensive teenager stance. I felt, much as I hated it, another fight coming on.
"Rachel!"
The admonishment was delayed by shock more than anything.
"What? Don't you want me anymore?"
I rubbed my eyes, weary of her sarcasm, knowing it was her only protection from a world in which she feared her own reality.
"It isn't like that,"
"Looked like that to me,"
"I needed to talk to Jenn,"
"Sending me back are we? Going getting too tough?"
I flinched at the thought that she could even say that to me of all people. Realising what she'd said, she backed down a little.
"I know what's going on, Rachel, I've worked it out,"
"What?"
She feigned innocence, but I ran my eyes over her gaunt frame and noted the long sleeves covering her hands despite the fact that it was rising June. She was 15, she should have been in her prime, but instead her skin was dry and sallow, her thick brown hair lacked lustre. She wasn't who she had been and it would have killed Mark to see her this way.
"The pieces, they didn't make sense, but they do today. You're out of control, Rachel, and I can't cope,"
"Elizabeth…you aren't making sense,"
How could the emotion I was showing scare her so after all she'd been through with me? Unless I was too close to something she'd thought was her own sordid secret.
"Show me your arms…"
I said suddenly, changing approach. She backed off as I advanced, looking every inch the caged animal.
"Rachel…"
She turned to run but I was quicker. It was not the correct approach, but I grabbed her wrist, pulled her arm out in front of her and yanked the loose sleeve up to her elbow. I looked up, eyes inflamed, and expected to see anger and defiance but saw shame and self-loathing. Those gashes horrified, even sickened, me. What was she doing to herself? Why mutilate such perfect skin? Why slice away at her dad's memory this way?
"It makes the pain go away,"
Her tone was pitiful. I tried to ignore my own disgust, but it was threatening to overwhelm me.
"And the boys? What do they do?"
I demanded angrily, although primevally, somewhere inside I knew the answer. I knew she was seeking closeness, seeking forgiveness possibly, but in all the wrong ways and in all the wrong places.
"I'm careful, Elizabeth, I promise,"
"You're 15!"
She cast her eyes aside from me. I knew what she needed and it was the one thing I could never give her – her father back. She was seeking replacement for his love in the only way she could see how. I understood it, yet couldn't accept or condone it.
"You won't find the answers in them, Rachel, I can promise you that,"
"And I suppose you have the answers?"
"If I did, would I be in the state I'm in?"
I paused, thinking the bitterness a little out of place. I could never get used to how it tasted.
"I think we start with a coffee, then maybe we'll both talk to your mom,"
I was calming down, slightly. Rachel, surprisingly, nodded. I hoped wherever he was Mark would be proud of how I'd handled the situation, because I was.
More Author's notes: Don't know why Rachel's still in Chicago, she just is. I think it makes a kind of sense.