Control » l.h

Chapter Eighteen

C A L U M

Jemma sat at the other end of the couch, staring intently at me. Occasionally she'd raise her eyebrows or puff out her cheeks just to mix it up. We'd already been doing this for five minutes and both of us were bored out of our minds.

After whatever went on with Officer Wigg, Jemma seemed to be acting more like herself. At least, she wasn't still accusing us of trying to kill her to our faces. We couldn't know what she was thinking - apparently everyone thought she knew what we were, though.

"Anything?" Ashton asked for like, the seventeenth time.

"I still remember stuff." I told him.

"And I'm not seeing anything from Calum's perspective," Jemma stated. "And I also still think this is pointless."

"I feel like if you didn't think we were trying to kill you, you might actually be interested in being like your boyfriend." Ashton snapped.

Jemma just rolled her eyes and muttered, "He's not my boyfriend, fuck off."

I cracked a smile and chuckled at her. Her eyes met mine and for a second I saw the old Jemma - the one who liked hanging out with me during the day and was always happy to be around all of us. Then her face turned hard and she pushed herself off the couch.

"This is the biggest waste of time," she told them, popping her hip out. "Can I go back to sleep?"

"It has to be something she did before," Michael said, looking up at Ashton from his spot on the floor. "She wasn't just looking into his eyes."

"Yeah, she was kicking his ass." Luke agreed.

"So you want us to volunteer Calum to almost get strangled again?" Ashton inquired.

"Hey," I interjected, standing up. Although I couldn't remember Jemma ever trying to kill me, I didn't necessarily want to be reminded of it. "Why don't one of you do it yourselves?"

"Um," Jemma began. "I don't feel like killing people, I feel like sleeping."

Ashton looked around the group. "That officer guy downstairs is what set her off before, right? Well, we'll just take her down there again."

"That won't do anything. She was surprised by everything down there and now she already knows what's there." Luke pointed out.

"Then what else gets her really angry?" Ashton wondered.

Michael snorted. "Luke."

All eyes flashed to Luke's face. He looked between Jemma and I, unsure of exactly how to respond. I couldn't remember Jemma hating me, but I definitely remembered her hating Luke.

L U K E

Jemma sat across from me on the floor, her back to one wall while I kept mine to the opposite. She sat cross-legged, and wouldn't meet eyes with me - instead she continued to glare up at Ashton who insisted on us "talking out our issues" since that would definitely make tempers go high.

"So," Ashton began, rubbing his hands together. "Who's going to start?"

Jemma's eyes finally flashed over to mine. She looked at me blankly. "I just want you to admit it. That's all I want. I don't care what else you do to me, just admit it."

"That we're going to kill you?" I questioned and she nodded. I shrugged. If she wanted to hear it so bad, then so be it.  "Fine. We're going to kill you."

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and putting her chin in her hands. "Now say it like you mean it."

"But I don't mean it," I told her, then sighed. "Jemma, we're not going to kill you."