Life.
It was a simple concept.
A concept that would only be granted away from the torturous mind of Jac Naylor.
Fear rippled through her body sometimes constantly and sometimes momentarily, it was something which she couldnt comprehend right now.
The sound always echoed.
The sound rang in her ears and she was unable to stop it only allowing her moments of weakness to be shown to herself, no one else.
Soon enough she would get better.
It would be a long journey ahead but she knew she would get there, she got there once before and she would do it again.
Not just for herself though, for Emma, she deserved that.
Focussing on something other than work was something that was different.
Something which let the thoughts creep back into the depths of her mind.
It was like it was spreading through her, like an infection almost, the poison of her mind infecting her mind, her soul and her body.
Something which couldnt be cured with the simple use of antibiotics, instead it was cured with an abundance of therapy.
Glancing over her shoulder as she sat at the simple desk, sitting cross-legged on the chair, she smiled.
"You came"
"I did"
"Why?"
"You summoned me remember"
"Even so...being back in an environment like this..."
"If you can do it so can I"
"Clayton-"
"Jac" he smiles slightly, she narrows her eyes at him "You need to tell Sacha, Fletch even. They care about you and they would want to support you"
"Support me" she scoffs shaking her head "It's my fault I ended up here of all places"
"You know thats not true... triggers they're-"
"Shut up" she snaps, he shakes his head in disbelief once more that she was pushing him away now of all times "This has nothing to do with you"
"You might think that now but I care about you-"
"Save me the dramatics" she snipes pushing herself away from her desk and standing right in front of him glaring at him in a menacing way which sent a shiver down his spine "This is me Clayton, all me, no matter how much you or me want that to change that is afact"
"But you can change"
"Maybe so" she muses before a flash of anger and sadness flickers over her face "But right now, no, I cant"
"You're not helping yourself"
"And you of all people should know what thats like" she snaps back, he sighs shaking his head "Leave, you can come back when you decide you dont want to annoy me, take your Cherry Bakewell slices with you"
"Those were a gift for you"
"Shut up" she snaps, he sighs taking the box and leaving the room leaving Jac to mull over her thoughts
The thoughts which were so vivid.
The thoughts which now defined her.
The thoughts which were something she couldnt even comprehend apart from the negative energy they held.
Thoughts.
Thinking about the thoughts was ironic in a way.
Irony.
Funny, because to her it was.
Looking out the window provided significance in many ways. The people going about their lives in a way she envied.
But here she was stuck in these four walls unable to escape, unable to live her life in a way which she wanted all because she didnt want to help herself or all because she couldnt be helped.
She didn't know.
That was scary.
The fact she didn't know.
She didnt know how to feel nor did she know what to say to make herself feel better, to push Clayton away considering he knows what she's going through, well not exactly. He knows what it's like for her here, the torture one's mind creates for themselves and that was the mutual understanding they shared.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
And that was fine even though she didnt feel right in herself but she was used to that.
Ever since it happened she felt scared but she would never admit it to anyone, not even Clayton at first.
The memories of the gunshot caused her mental and physical pain, a pain that would go away in time but never be forgotten.
Soon enough she was unable to cope, her mind making up all of these scenarios which couldnt be helped, which she couldnt bring herself to believe at first until it happened.
She believed.
And that was the downfall.
The downfall of insanity and mental stability.
She was back here again and she was scared that she would never return to being herself because right now she really wasnt herself.
She knew that.
It was the one constant she did know.
A constant that couldnt be understood anymore.
A constant which scared her but wouldnt admit until she was ready.
She wasnt ready, not yet.
