#past:

[gemma-of-shropshire]

Oh Thomas :(

A bed is a necessity not a luxury.

He can’t hurt you now.

I've fallen asleep in worse places. Closets at least, off the top of my head, especially when I was a kid. Standing up also. A bed is a luxury.

[gemma-of-shropshire]

Flashback to Thomas’ therapy session yesterday??

(...)

I guess... I guess I do have nightmares? And I sleep a lot. But it's not that bad. I just– don't like the feeling of being tired in the day because I wake up in the middle of the night.

"So they do bother you, your nightmares."

(gives them a blank look) They're nightmares.

"Could you tell me about them, Thomas?"

(makes a noncommittal shrug) Sometimes it's my father, sometimes it's Dillon and the other priests... chasing me, grabbing at me, telling me that I'm... uh, worthless. Stuff like that.

"You've been talking about Dillon a lot. Who is he?"

The High Visionary.

(They give him a look, 'Go on?')

I was in a... commune, you could say. The Visionary Force. It's a spiritual thing. And I guess we are kind of lovers?

"What was it like with him, then?"

He's a very magnetic speaker. Charming. Like he could look at you and read your minds. Like he cares deeply about your pain, as if it's his own.

"What was he like, as a lover? Not just to the public, but with you at home."

...I don't know.

(They stay silent, giving him some time to work out the thoughts.)

I guess sometimes he can be very lovely. He'd hold your hand and call you honey, or his lamb, and tell you that you're special to him. He just feels different from my ex-wife.

"And how does that make you feel, this difference?"

Bad, I guess. I mean, I asked him what he'd do if I leave him, just a hypothetical, and he locked me up in the attic. Ankle chain bolted to the bed and all that.

(Their eyes visibly widen.)

Yeah, my ex-wife got me out. That's why I was in the hospital, and the doctors were... there. But he wasn't always bad, you know? He said I was special to him, and he couldn't stand to lose me.

"But he kept you captive."

...Yeah. But it's a one time thing.

"So he's usually not that violent."

(He thinks back, silent) ...I don't wanna talk about it.

"That's alright, we don't have to talk about that today then, you just tell me whatever you feel comfortable telling me, whenever you want to talk about it."

So I have to come back?

(eyes him) "Do you want to?"

You're implying that I have deeper issues that would benefit from more sessions with you. I don't need fixing.

"I'm not implying anything, Thomas. Do you think you do?"

...I sound like I do. When I talk out loud at you.

"You could think of me as just someone here to listen to you. I'm not a handyman here to fix you, or to tell you that you need to be fixed. Does that make you feel better?"

Yeah. (a long pause) Do we do the same time next week?

[gemma-of-shropshire]

It’s been on the list of things to fix for ages. But you know how dads are with their list of diy projects. The bathroom door lock sticks and ultimately gets stuck. Question is, who’s stuck in there?

(banging on the door) (the lock jiggles, splutters, keeps shut)

Let me out! Let me out! Someone please—

(Time seems to have frozen in the small space, has it been a minute? Ten? An hour?)

(muffled sob) I'm sorry, please, I didn't mean to— whatever I did, please let me out, please don't lock me up again, I'll be good, I promise...

(More panicked breathing, shallow and impossibly loud to his own ears. What if he runs out of air? What if he's stuck here forever and he starves to death, or chokes to death? What if no one hears him? What if they're sick of him and they're going to lock him here forever? What if—)

...

Wait, hold on, Thomas! Dad, where's the key?

...What?

Okay, alright, Thomas, I'm gonna pick the lock, 'kay? Don't worry, it'll be in a jiffy—

...

(He stumbles out the door, heaving for air, eyes obviously wet and red-rimmed.)

Oh Thomas...

It's fine, it's– it's fine, sorry for making such a fuss out of, what, a bathroom door that doesn't work? Heh, sorry—

I'm sorry. I'll ask Dad to fix it. Better yet, I'll fix it myself—

You don't have to, it's meant to be your holiday—

I insist.

(an awkward silence)

(She springs foward, hugs him very quickly, and jumps back before he can savor it.)

Right, um. I'll go tell Dad that. About the lock, not you.

(He stares after her, arms still open, hanging at his side awkwardly.)

[gemma-of-shropshire]

It’s not stupid, he’s spent years conditioning you and using fear, manipulation and violence to get you you think and believe certain things.

It’s going to take a long time to untangle. I believe in you, you can do this.

One day, or hour or minute at a time.

You’ve got this Thomas, I believe in you.

*they hold out their arms in an offer for a hug*

P.s it’s okay to tell Gemma how you’re really feeling, even if you think those thoughts are bad.

Earmon made me take some pills, so... progress...? Thank you, anon, you're really kind.

(He hugs you briefly; he'd love to sink into it, but he doesn't want to give you the cold as well.)

...I'll think about it. Telling her, I mean.

[gemma-of-shropshire]

That tickle in his throat is getting more noticable.

Remembering how it was, before, it's so easy to try to hide it. Instinctively crushing it down, swallowing a little more, drinking a little more, not wanting anyone to see. He knows that River says showing weakness is okay, now, but with Gemma still recovering and as much as he hates to even consider it... Dillon is still in his head.

He can still feel the sting, skin sensitive and too hot too cold, the blow which had made his head ache all over again. Trying to work even when his hands were shaking and his chest was tight. Knowing this was his fault, he just needed to be more dilligent in his worship... he knows Gemma isn't Dillon. Of course he knows that but he still can't quite shake it.

So he sips at a hot drink and eyes the throat medicine Gemma's been taking to suppress the cough and reminds himself that it's better to let the cough run it's course, that's all. That the only reason he's keeping it quiet is because he doesn't want her to worry, doesn't want to burden her with taking care of him, especially not when she's already in recovery.

He pauses in the bathroom, looking at the mirror, able to see that he, somehow, looks more pasty than before, with a faint red flush on his cheeks. Rubbing a hand over his neck he can feel the sweat there and nearly swears, realising that his temperature is starting to tick up. Shit, he absolutely cannot get sick before Gemma is better, and there's no way in hell he's letting her be burdened with taking care of him.

He doesn't want to be like Dillon.

(He feels a cough coming up again, and he muffles himself with the towels once again. The bedroom is so close, he can't let her hear it. Gemma frets over everything at the first chance she gets, he can't let her get the slightest suspicion that he's sick. Which he isn't.)

(He's not sick.)

(A voice in his head curls around him. You've grown weak ever since you left me. Or perhaps you always were—)

(He pushes it down, whispering to himself, like a recitation, or a prayer.) I am allowed to be vulnerable. I am allowed to be weak. It doesn't make me a failure.

(He can be weak later, when he won't be a burden on his sick wife and his five-years-old son.)

(He should take some medicine before he gets worse. He used to chug down pills and hot tea with lemon and honey at the slightest tickle in the back of his throat, when he was still a kid preoccupied with a need to be as not-annoying as possible. It got harder when he joined the commune, but he managed it still, didn't he?)

(So why is he like this now? Why now?!)

(He'll go to bed early. Drink some more hot water. It'll all be over tomorrow. It better be.)

(God, he hates his body.)

[gemma-of-shropshire]

Do you ever wonder what happened to the commune? I wonder if Leila is still even alive?

I don't know... I heard something about Dillon going mad and the commune being locked down... I don't know what to think about it all. I suppose it's something he could do? He did try to lock me up... I try not to think about him, or the commune, really. I hope Leila is still alive. She was kind to me. She helped Gemma get me out. If anyone in the commune deserves a happy ending, it's her, not me.

[gemma-of-shropshire]

What about your mum?

Mother doesn't really do anything. Sometimes Father hit her. Sometimes she tried to make me do better so Father wouldn't be mad with me, and then she got mad as well when I failed. She doesn't do anything, I think she's too scared of him. She just... lets him do whatever he wants.