Chapter Forty-One
Pep Rallies Fucking Suck.

a/n: season 4 for ramona is gonna be heavy and dark. and so will the chapters. i want to do a lot with her character , but there will ALWAYS be trigger warnings in the beginning . if any of these will be triggering for you. i have other books that aren't and won't be as dark as these for season 4 <3
tw: brief mentions of self harm , drug use, sexual assault

Ramona sighed, rolling her lips in between her teeth as she pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs in an attempt to comfort herself.

The constant ticking of the clock was beginning to get on her nerves.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

over and over and over again.

It never ended. It was constant. It filled the room, overtaking the long silences during her sessions. But at least today, she got to skip the pep rally. Pep rallies fucking suck.

After the news broke of the horrors that had gone on under citizen's noses, that Ramona had been involved in it.. and when she found out everything that had happened in the Russian labs.. The men who tortured her, broke her. Took her livelihood from her. When her mother found out that those men had laid their filthy hands on her daughter.. when she saw the bruises, the burn marks, the hand prints. Well.. she wanted to burn Russia to the ground as a whole. Ramona insisted she was overreacting, that the bruises on her neck, her thighs, all the bruises would heal, but her mother insisted that she see a therapist. To talk about her trauma, and to work through it. Not to let it eat away at her, ruin her from the inside out.

At first, Ramona was reluctant. Especially when she saw the clock. Ramona hated that stupid fucking clock. She wanted to peel it off the wall and destroy it. Bash it into a million pieces. Take out all of her anger on it.

Her mom was right, Ramona wasn't the same person anymore. She was different now. More in her head, she thought a lot more, dozed off in class. Paid less and less attention at work. She missed her old self, Ramona wanted nothing more than to be back to that. To making fun of Steve (but making it clear that it was a joke, and that she loved him very much). To sharing rootbeer floats with him, not because she liked them but because he did.

She wanted to get a good nights sleep, something she hadn't had in God knows how long. She always slept better with Steve though.

She'd make him sing her to sleep, promising not to tell anyone.

"You tell anyone about this, and you're dead, got it Garcia?" he would say, and Ramona would laugh, leaning up to kiss him.

"I promise." She'd say, wrapping her leg around his and nuzzling her face into his chest, drifting off to sleep as he sang to her. "Our little secret."

The thought of Steve didn't make her wanna go to therapy any more though, she knew it was probably good for her. But fuck she hated it. She hated being judged and picked apart like- like some fucking mouse in science class!

But then again.. Maybe it wasn't the clock that she hated. Maybe it wasn't the clock that she was angry at. Maybe it was because-

"We broke up." Ramona admitted, breaking the silence as she looked away from the cat clock on the wall and over to the woman dressed in professional attire sitting in the seat across from her. "I-I mean.. not.. we didn't, but.. maybe we did? I-I don't know? we just.. there was a fight."

"Did he tell you that you broke up?" The woman asked, tapping her pen against her notepad. Something that annoyed Ramona, especially knowing that she was using the pen and the notepad to write notes. Notes about her. Notes that she would never read. That drove her fucking insane, not knowing what was being written about her.

Ramona remained silent. Looking down at her shoes, she plucked strings from the edges. "No.."

"Did he say he didn't want to be with you anymore?"

"N0..." Ramona huffed, looking up at the clock, her annoyance growing when she realized that she had another forty-five minutes in there.

"Did you?"

"No!"

"Then the two of you are still together. What was the fight about?"

Ramona chewed on her lip, biting back tears. She scratched at her arm, wincing as she brushed a fresh scar. "I'm.. um I'm not sure."

Ramona knew she was lying. She knew exactly what the fight was about. It was her fault, Ramona knew that.

The woman raised her eyebrows, scribbling something down on her notes. "Your tell is rolling your right shoulder back."

"What?" Ramona looked up at the woman in confusion.

"Your tell." She repeated, pushing her glasses up. "When your lying or not telling me the full truth, you roll your right shoulder back."

"Oh." Ramona didn't know she did that.

"We have forty minutes left. Start from the beginning, okay? Take your time, healing is a process. Talking about it is your first step."

"I'm not using, Steve!" Ramona shouted, her face flushed with anger.  "Why the fuck would you ask me that?"

"Don't lie to me! Ramona, don't lie to me. My uncle was on it, I-I know the signs. I know the signs, okay?! You're- You're always fucking cold! You're in that hoodie or that jacket, even when it's hot outside. I- we never.. Ramona. I've seen it. I know the signs." Steve argued back. His usual warm eyes turned cold as he scanned Ramona's thin frame. "And you're - You act different."

"Oh, my fucking bad for acting different! I was fucking sexually assaulted. Steve. I was fucking tortured! Obviously, I'm not the same fucking person I was." Ramona shouted, throwing her hands up in aggravation. "But oh, I'm so fucking sorry I'm not the same person. I'm sorry, I'm hard to love!"

"Don't do that." Steve pointed at her, his nostrils flared in anger. "You're putting words in my mouth. I never said that!"

"What is it? You think i'm doing fucking heroine? Huh? Afraid you'll see needle marks?" Ramona snapped. "Well, I'm not.. Okay?"

Steve crossed his arms, his eyes examining her body. "Show me."

"What?" Ramona's voice dropped, her eyes searching his face in confusion. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Your arms, baby." Steve reached forward for her, his heart squeezing in pain when she flinched away from him. "Show me your arms."

Ramona scoffed, grumbling to herself as she peeled the sweatshirt from her body. She dropped it beside her, leaving her bare in front of him. Usually, jokes and laughter would be heard echoing the room.. but this was a different story. This situation was much, much darker.

Tensions thickened in the room and the entire world seemed to stop on its axis as Steve's eyes landed on her arms.

"Ramona.." Steve trailed off, his heart sinking at the sight. Scars littered her arms. Not from needles. From someone who was hurting, who desperately needed help. Needed someone to help them, Steve knew what that was like, and god did he regret accusing her of using drugs.

"Oh.." Steve muttered, his heart shattering as the room swirled around him.

He felt like such a dick when the reality of the situation hit him. How did he not notice? Pick up on the signs? God. There must have been so many signs.

He watched in silence as Ramona leaned down for her sweatshirt. The silent room was louder than any football game or basketball game, or concert he'd ever been to. The silence was deafening. "Ramona.. God, fuck. I'm so fucking sorry."

"Yeah. Fuck. You." Ramona spat, venom dripping from her tone as she glared at him. "You fucking know I wouldn't do that shit!"

"I don't know anything anymore." Steve sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Ramona laughed bitterly, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Uh- I don't.. Steve, I don't want to talk about this. Not with you, not right now. Can- Can you just take me home?"

Ramona sighed, fidgeting with her hands. "So, uh. Yeah. I'm not a fucking druggie, for the record. I've never touched drugs, of any kind and I don't plan on it."

The therapist remained silent, watching Ramona. Waiting, perhaps, for her to continue. Ramona glanced at the clock, her breathing slowing when she realized that it took her nearly the rest of the session to tell that story. "Huh.. I- uh. I'm sorry, I guess I didn't realize how long it took me to tell that story.."

Ramona stood quickly, brushing herself off and heading towards the door. "Um.. yeah. I'm sorry, again. I have to go, I can't afford to go overtime."

"It's okay. Ramona, we have a lot to work on next week, okay? Remember to keep journaling."

~~

a/n: rough start eh? did you miss her bc i missed her