Serena

21-Guilt

As soon as I hung up, I started to get dressed. My mind was a whirl of thoughts, but I tried to focus on the immediate task.

By the time I was ready, I could already hear Gemma's car pulling into the driveway. I rushed downstairs and opened the door just as she was about to knock. Her face was pale, and the worry in her eyes was unmistakable.

"He's in the car." She said, her voice trembling. "I didn't know where else to go."

"Let's get him inside." I said, stepping out to help. Together, we managed to get Jax out of the car and into the house.

As we carried him, his silent groans were a constant reminder of his pain. We carefully laid him on the sofa, and I took a moment to really take in his condition.

His body was covered in bruises of varying shades, from deep purples to sickly yellows. His lip was split, dried blood crusting at the edges, and one eye was swollen shut with a dark bruise spreading across his cheekbone. He looked terrible, a shadow of his usual self.

"We need to take him to the hospital." I said, my voice filled with urgency and concern.

Gemma shook her head, her eyes filled with worry and resolve. "He wouldn't want that. Whenever things got this bad, our uncle was always the one to help him. Jax trusts him, and he's always preferred handling it privately. That's why he relied on our uncle for situations like this."

"Has this happened before?" I couldn't help but ask as I glanced at Jax.

"Yeah." Gemma replied, her voice tinged with sadness. She looked down, her eyes reflecting a mixture of worry and helplessness. "But never this bad. He's had his rough moments, but this... this is different. Our uncle always managed to handle it before things got out of control. I just don't know what to do without him here."

"What about your father?" I asked, hoping for another option, some way to ease the burden off Gemma's shoulders.

She scoffed bitterly, a sharp edge to her voice. "He wouldn't care. Trust me, he's never been there for us." Her frustration and disappointment were palpable, and it was clear that she felt abandoned by the person who should have been there for them the most.

At her words, a memory flashed before my eyes. I vividly recalled Jax's voice, raw with anger, saying, "My father's a prick."

"Did your father do this to him?" I blurted out, instantly regretting the words as they left my mouth. I cursed myself internally for being so thoughtless and insensitive.

I glanced at Gemma, and a look of profound distress crossed her face. Her eyes welled with unshed tears, and she whispered, barely above a breath. "I don't know." The uncertainty in her voice and the visible pain in her eyes made it clear that the question had touched a raw nerve.

We stood in heavy silence for a moment, the weight of Gemma's response hanging between us. I tried to shake off the discomfort and focus on what we needed to do.

"Okay." I said, trying to sound more composed. "We need to figure out how to help him. Do you have any idea what your uncle usually does for him in situations like this?"

Gemma took a shaky breath, wiping a tear from her cheek. "He usually... he has specific remedies and medications. He knows what to look for and how to treat him."

I nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Let's see if we can find anything here that might help. We need to make him as comfortable as possible and figure out our next steps."

Together, we carefully went through the house, searching for anything that might be useful. I tried to stay focused and calm, despite the growing anxiety. As we worked, I could see the strain in Gemma's face, but she was determined, moving with a sense of urgency.

Eventually, we managed to gather some basic supplies and make Jax as comfortable as possible on the sofa. We applied some ice to his bruised face and cleaned his wounds as best we could. The whole time, Genma stayed close, her hands trembling slightly as she worked.

Once we had done what we could, we sat nearby, waiting and hoping that Jax would open his eyes soon.

"You know, I've been a shitty friend to you." Gemma suddenly said, her voice heavy with regret. I looked at her in confusion, unsure where this was coming from.

"No, you haven't." I replied, trying to reassure her.

"Yes, I have." She insisted, her eyes brimming with guilt. "Especially the night of the party. I shouldn't have left you alone. I thought you'd be fine with your brothers there, but clearly, you weren't. You went upstairs because of me, looking for me. That's why you ended up alone with Peter. Because. Of. Me." Her voice broke at the end, and I could see tears beginning to form in her eyes.

She took a deep breath before continuing. "I've replayed that night over and over in my head, and every time, I wish I could go back and do things differently. I should have stayed with you, or at least made sure you were with someone trustworthy. Instead, I was caught up in my own world, assuming you were safe. I failed you as a friend when you needed me the most."

Gemma's hands were trembling, and she clasped them together tightly. "And I know an apology won't erase what you went through. It won't change the past or the pain you've had to endure. But you need to believe me—if I had known what he was going to do, I would have never left you alone. I would have protected you with everything I had. I'm so, so sorry."

Her voice was barely above a whisper by the end, and the weight of her guilt was palpable. We sat in silence for a moment, the gravity of her words sinking in. I could see the remorse in her eyes, and it was clear that she was genuinely devastated by what had happened.

"I don't blame you. I never did. He would have found a way to get to me either way. Don't beat yourself up over it. It wasn't your fault." As the words left my mouth, I realised they had never felt more true.

In the beginning, I have to admit, I resented her a bit for leaving me alone. I felt abandoned and vulnerable, and that anger simmered inside me. But after we talked, that feeling began to evaporate. I came to understand that even if she hadn't left, he would have found a way to hurt me. His determination to cause harm wasn't something she could have prevented. If not at the party, he would have gotten to me another day, in another place.

I reached out and took her trembling hands in mine, squeezing them gently. "We can't change what happened, but we can move forward together. I need you to understand that I don't hold you responsible. He made his own choices, and his actions are on him, not you."

She nodded slowly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Thank you." She whispered. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'll do my best to be the friend you need from now on."

Her eyes met mine, and I could see the conflict in them, the struggle to accept my words. But I hoped that, in time, she would come to believe them as deeply as I did.

***

What are your thoughts on Gemma?

Which character is by far your favourite?

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