Ok guys, only my second story on here. Going to try my hardest to update once a week. I would really appreciate any feedback on this story I can get. This way I can improve upon my writing skills for future chapters. As always, thanks for taking the time to read and I do not own any of the characters involved in this story. This is just for fan enjoyment. Italics are thoughts for your information.
The whistling of the wind woke Emma from her car shelter for the night. Stretching her arms above her head, she blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the dark of the night around her. Having no place to turn to right out of jail, she had found herself parked in the entrance of an abandoned building four miles south of the facility in Phoenix. She had no idea what day it was, only that she believed herself to be a 19 year old girl with nothing to her name and no money. Turning the car on and shutting the windows, she sighs and pushes the radio on.
"Yesterday afternoon, around 2 o'clock in the afternoon, Mrs. Gunther was murdered in cold blood by her half-sister with a frying pan to the head," the radio announcer stated calmly to his invisible audience.
"Damn people think they can do whatever they want with their lives, I'm damn tired of those people," Emma curtly mumbled to herself, turning the radio off. Her legs ached from not moving for the last half a day. "If only someone could do something about it." She moved to her side, trying to get comfortable.
She hated the silence the car offered in response. It was even worse than the prison. At least there she could hear other voices, however low they were. She had become so accustomed to that living, that this ominous silence was torture for her. Not the worst torture to be sure, but still was slowly going to drive her over the edge she had just pulled herself back from.
Stretching one more time, she could see her stretch marks still from her son. A pang went through her heart before she pushed her thoughts away. Now was not the time to be thinking about such horrible memories. She was positive he was happy wherever he was. Kids, she remembered as they got older, were much less likely to be adopted, but babies had a higher chance. She wanted him to have that chance no matter how much she wanted to keep the soft little bundle of flesh.
The clock read out 3:30am and she wasn't about to drive with this mindset and lose the little gas she had left wandering who the hell knows where. Everything would look better in the morning she told herself curling as closely as she could into a ball.
Sleep, it seems, came slowly back to her and she found herself almost floating into a sea of darkness filled with no emotions at all.
The tickling sensation was one of the first things she felt when consciousness returned to her. Opening one eye, Emma was startled to find herself laying on a beach, freezing. Jumping up, her hair plastered itself to her face wet and salt ridden. Twisting in a circle her eyes looks upon the enviroment.
Her breath caught in her throat as her surroundings became apparent. The stormy sky above her threated to rain upon her with God knows what. The beach was dreary and unappealing, clinging to her legs in an uncomfortable way. Her mind started to go into overdrive as this situation continued to get worse. The trees inland where nothing like the trees she knew were in Phoenix. Panic set in even further when the thunder broke through her thought process. Scrambling further into the darkened woods, Emma agreed to herself to find some sort of shelter first.
Running further inland, Emma found herself at a very large, very old looking tree. The roots had given way over time on the right side, enough to make a shelter for the night. Crawling inside it, Emma sat still with shuttered breaths.
"This is not happening. This has to be a dream…. A nightmare! Something! That's it! Maybe I'm in a coma and this is what happens. This is not real. I will wake up. Everything will be fine," Talking to herself did nothing to calm her nerves, especially once the growling started around her burrow.
Holding back a scream, Emma pushed herself as close to the inside of the tree as possible, trying to block out the forest noises. Silent tears ran down her face. She could feel her body starting to make her pass out, but fought against the urge for a very long time. The light coming from the opening seemed to get darker, if that was even possible.
Slowly she fell asleep only to wake up at dawn to the sound of the wind howling through the roots. She opened her eyes hoping her nightmare was over. But it was all in vain. Sighing softly, she ruffled her crusty, sand-filled hair and crawled out of the makeshift home.
The island was starting to get lighter, but the clouds remained above her as heavy reminder she wasn't home at all. "What the hell is this place?" She mumbled to herself.
Suddenly, a twig snapped behind her and she caught a glimpse of something metal. Sprinting in the other direction was instinct and only natural. Emma ran with all her strength toward a hill covered by deep emerald vines. Grabbing one of the vines, she slowly started climbing the steep cliff, not even bothering to look down at her pursuer. She could hear heavy breathing of a man, making her blood run cold and her heart speed up even more.
"Crap. Crap. Shit. I don't need this shit," poured quietly out of her mouth the higher she got on the hill. At the top, she swung her legs over the ledge, and laid on her back for a second.
About to get up, she feels the very sharp point of something metal come to her throat. A shriek comes from her mouth as her arm comes up and hits the man behind her. He lets out a sound of pain and drops his sword. Emma freezes for only a second, before picking it up and spinning around to face the stranger.
"What the bloody hell, woman?!" His thick British accent hits her ears as she stares at him, sword pointed at his throat.
"Who the hell are you? Where the am I? How the fuck did I even get here?" Emma's voice comes out cold and curt, not at all how she feels inside at the moment. Her heart would not stop its beating the moment she laid eyes on the man in front of her. His blue, cerulean eyes stare back at her harshly, no form of emotion there other than shock and anger. He seemed to be about late twenties with short black hair and stubble that needed to be trimmed. His outfit reminded her so much of the pirate shows she saw as a kid that she almost forgot the situation at hand.
He cleared his throat, standing up straight, staring her right in the eyes, "What I want to know, love, is who are you and how did you come to be on this island?"
Emma growled slightly stepping closer, pressing the tip of the sword to his throat, "I. Asked. You. First." She held his gaze with each word, gauging his reactions, finding any faults.
He blinked and stared back at her, slowly his hand came out from his side. He grinned a wicked grin holding up his perfectly polished hook, "Most call me Hook, mi' lady. And as far as you are concerned you are on the island Neverland, the so-called happy dwelling of Peter Pan."
What the fuck.