Chapter 24: She’s Back
~Jacob~
It was already Christmas Eve and Jemma still was not back. God, did she know how much she was hurting me? The pain was so intense and so hindering and I spent every second of my time worrying and wondering about her.
I dressed in a suit I’d had hanging up for a while and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked pretty good, if I didn’t say so myself. I cleaned up nice.
“And you’re sure you want to go?” Belinda asked me as she was getting me ready by the door to leave.
“Yes,” I told her for the hundredth time. “I’m sure. It feels right.”
She nodded and kissed my forehead. “You’re such a good boy.”
I sighed. “Sometimes.”
She chuckled and handed me the car keys. “Don’t crash, don’t injure yourself, and no making me worry!”
“I don’t think I can help the worrying part,” I told her.
“You’re right. It’s too natural. Just be safe.”
“I will, Belinda,” I reassured her and waved good-bye on my way out. I slid into the driver’s seat of her small, sleek black Chevy and revved the engine. I was supposed to pick up Jemma today, but she wasn’t home, and the passenger’s seat would have to remain empty. I cleared my throat and swallowed and backed out of the driveway. I had to forget about Jemma for the moment.
Apparently she had forgotten about all of us.
*****
Funerals were funerals. Sad, dismal, depressed, and filled with heavy sorrow. I immediately spotted Clara and Michael standing off to the side, clutching each other. Clara wasn’t crying. They were whispering to each other and pointing around. Close friends I guess of Clara were there in the small church of Heart, seated in the pews with tissues ready in hand. I took a seat in the back, my suit making a rustling sound that mixed in with the creak of the wood from the pew. I looked around me at the beautiful stained glass windows, and the cross high and mighty up on the wall, and at the lovely red velvet casket in the front center of the church. I saw black hair in that casket, and I knew it was Jemma’s mother. I didn’t dare go up and see her. If she looked too much like Jemma I couldn't be held responsible for freaking out.
There was muted conversation all around me. I listened to it all and yet none of it. I heard no laughter, no jokes made in an attempt to lighten the mood. It was all so sad, and I just wanted to get it over with so I could get out of that room weighing so much grief down upon me.
The big oak doors in the back opened and the preacher strode in, his white robes billowing behind him. Pastor Bruce had short brown hair and glasses he sometimes had on the tip of his nose and sometimes had protruding from his pocket. He walked with an air of holiness around him that was worth envying. It made him seem untouchable.
He strode to the front of the sanctuary and took his glasses out of his pocket, placing them on the bridge of his nose. He opened the bible and his mouth to speak. “We are here in loving memory of Linda Charlotte Knight, beloved sister of our own Clara Rose White.” That was all I heard. The doors in the back creaked again, but I didn’t want to be the person to look back and see who it was. I continued facing forward, pretending to hear what Pastor Bruce was saying but not really.
Whoever came in through the doors sat down beside me. Not right beside me, but they were the only other person on the pew with me. I was at one edge, and they sat at the other. I couldn’t help it. I turned to see who this mysterious person was and I could pretty accurately say my heart stopped for a second.
I couldn’t even explain the feeling that came into me when I saw her.
I wanted to hug her and kiss her and never let her go, but she seemed so . . . distant. Like she was here, but her mind was in a totally different place altogether.
I wanted to talk to her, but I could not.
She looked beautiful. She had dressed up, which led me to believe she stopped by her home on the way here. She wore a long flowing strapless black dress and her long, wavy black hair was up in a bun. A few strands hung in her face, and my fingers itched to push them out of the way, even if just to touch her face. God, I just wanted to touch her. She was so close, so far away.
I must have been staring at her for a long time, because eventually she turned her head and met my eyes, and I couldn't speak for her but I knew major bolts of electricity shot through me. I couldn’t have looked away if I wanted to, which I didn’t. I mouthed to her, Jemma?
She nodded slightly.
I mouthed again, are you okay?
She didn’t respond. She turned quickly away from me as if she didn’t want me to see her reaction or what she was feeling, and that bothered me. It bothered me through the whole service right down to the end of it, especially when she leapt up before everyone else and hurried out the door.
I had meant to thank Clara and Michael for having me, but, I couldn’t lose this chance. I was going after her.
I followed her out of the church and caught up with her halfway to her house. I grabbed her arm and turned her around. She looked at me with such tortured eyes that I winced, and I felt my heart break when I thought about what she must be going through.
“Where were you, Jemma? I’ve been really, really worried.”
She didn’t reply. Had she gone mute? She just looked at where I gripped her, at the scars she had not gone to any trouble to cover up, and I realized part of the reason she rushed out. She didn’t want anyone to see them. To see the evidence of the demon she struggled to keep at bay within herself.
“I didn’t think you were coming back,” I said again, my heart beating obnoxiously loud. Could she hear it? Probably. I bet the whole freaking town of Heart could hear it. I moved my hands slowly down her arms and I brushed her fingers with mine. She looked at me again, confusion and utter perplexity in her eyes. My fingers seemed to have minds of their own. As gently as they could they trailed up her arms and traced the scars on them. I felt her shudder and tense up beneath me, and I hated that she was right there and I couldn’t have her. I hated that I could tell her right now I was pretty sure I loved her and I couldn’t have her.
She began shaking, and I carefully pulled her into me. I wrapped my arms around her, little sparks of fire appearing everywhere our skin touched. This was all I really wanted. To stay like this forever, her safe with me . . .
But that was a false, wishful dream. I had her in body but I needed her in mind.
I didn't know how long we stayed embraced in the cold. Way longer than I expected because she didn’t pull away. But she did eventually, and she turned away from me, running on down the path to her house.
It was then that I noticed she wasn’t wearing any shoes.
*****
~Jemma~
I was confused.
I had no idea what was going on. I came to my mother’s funeral, but I couldn’t focus on it. I left, and Jacob followed me. He hugged me. A friendly hug, although it did last for an eternity. What did he want from me? What did I want from myself?
I peeled off my dress and put on black jeans and a tight lace long-sleeved shirt. I dropped my converse in the waste basket in my room. I wouldn’t need them when I was through.
My feet were cold and cut and numb but soon it wouldn’t matter.
My grandfather had told me to find the one person out there who not only wanted me but wanted and loved me.
There was not a person out there who felt that way toward me. I just had to except that fact. Fairy tales didn’t happen to everybody. That was a harsh truth of life.
I figured the people around me wouldn’t be so stressed and would have a load off their shoulders if I just disappeared.
And so that was what I had to make happen.
I had to disappear.
Forever.
****
Dear Clara, Michael, and Jacob
If you can find it in your hearts to forgive me, I’d greatly appreciate that. I’m sure it’ll take a long time for you to, but you all are good people and it will come eventually, I’m sure. You don’t deserve a monster like me and I understand completely. I’m not hurt by that fact. I’m hurting and I always will be, so I’m going to do something about it.
Don’t follow me. Don’t come looking for me, because what you find will not be what you want.
I’m sorry it had to end like this.
There were so many things I wanted to say, but they didn’t compare to the things I needed and should have said before this.
I love you Clara, even if you don’t love me.
Michael, you’re the perfect match for Clara.
And, Jacob, in another life, one day, I hope maybe we could become something other than just a friend. Maybe even best friends. I would take best friends. In fact, I would really enjoy that.
So, I’ve decided to leave Heart, and I may not be coming back for a long time.
Actually, I won’t be coming back. I won’t be going anywhere ever again.
Ever.
With love and regret,
Jemma
*****
~Jacob~
I stood with my hand poised to knock on Jemma’s door when I heard a scream. It was a piercing, blood-curdling, desperate scream. Instead of knocking I burst in through the door, only thinking that that was Jemma who screamed. I ran straight into Michael and we looked at each other, and we both ran up the stairs.
We did not find Jemma.
We found Clara, clutching a piece of paper, the most terrified and hopeless look on her face.
“She’s . . . she’s gone,” she choked out through her heaving sobs.
“What are you talking about?” I asked softly. She must be talking about Jemma. I had just seen her. What the hell had she done in, like, five minutes?
“This note. She’s not . . . she’s not coming back.”
Michael took the note from Clara and read it over, swearing to himself.
“What?” I practically screamed.
“You’re coming with me,” he told me, grabbing my shoulder. “Clara, you’re staying here.”
Clara nodded and Michael hauled me out the door. “What is going on?” I pressed again.
“You’re friend and my soon-to-be-niece? She’s not here. Do you know where she is?”
Oh, crap. “No.”
He looked me intensely in the eyes. “She’s gone to go kill herself.”