This is a oneshot writing. If you're ready to embark on a feels trip here you go. Hope you enjoy yourself.

Disclaimer: I own the ideas not the characters.

Welcome to the inner workings of my mind,

So dark and foul I can't disguise,

Nights like this,

I become afraid,

Of the darkness in my heart...

"Will you be a good girl now?!" a woman yells, she holds her hand into the air, a young girl starts levitating on the other side of the room. She can't breathe, she brings her hands to her throat in panic, tries hopelessly to get rid of the hold that her mother has on her. Her lungs hurt as she strives for air, her vision fills with black dots and she nods slowly. The grip on her throat releases and she inhales as much as she can, but she's still hanging above the floor… It's not over yet, her mother still has to teach her a lesson, and she knows it. She knows what's coming and anticipates it bravely. But as courageous as she is trying to be when her bones snaps, she can't help but scream. Her ribcage hurts now, she tries to hold her sides and protect herself, but it's of no use. Another rib snaps and another…

Three, she counts, it's the first time there are so many…

It hurts so much, but she doesn't cry. She cannot cry; not until her mother leaves, not until she is alone with herself in the dark of her room…

"I'll be good Mother, I promise." She pleads, her voice cracking here and there.

But it's not enough. Words are never enough for her mother.

"I gave you everything!" the older woman snaps "After all I've done to get us out of poverty, all the sacrifices I had to make, you still disobey me?!" her fury is palpable in the chilly air of the room.

The young girl stays quiet. She cannot talk anymore, her ribs are too much pain and when they move it makes her suffer. Her body is already baldly wounded, and those broken bones are not even the tip of the iceberg. She has cuts on her face, though not very deep they bleed down her face, and she has bruises everywhere, on her forearms, her chest and her face too. The bruises are for most of them a deep ugly purple, contrasting with her porcelain skin.

The ruthless woman abusing of her power grows tired of her daughter not responding her, in a flick of her wrist she throws her across the room. Her face hits the tall looking glass in the far corner of the room. She falls on the floor, lies in the shards of the broken mirror, a sharp pain coming for the right side of her upper lip.

She reaches for it; her finger can feel her teeth through the deep cut and when she looks at her hand, blood is dripping along her beautiful fingers.

She looks around the room, she's alone now. Her mother has stormed off when she was on the floor and gaining consciousness. Tears pools in her eyes, but they do not go farther, she holds them back. She tries to get on her feet and leave, her legs give out under her weight and her knees scrape on the broken pieces of the looking glass beneath her. She takes a deep breath, waits during an eternity, the mirror biting into her flesh, gets up and wobbles into her room leaving a trail of blood drops on the floor and carpet.

-/-

It's late, the moon is high up in the sky and shines brightly through the bedroom's window. It illuminates the dark polished wooden floor, reflecting on it. Her fresh wounds are still bleeding a little bit, besides her bed, lying on her nightstand there's a bowl of clean water and some linen cloth.

She grabs a match, lights up a candle, gets on the bed and automatically brings her knees to her chest. She's had enough for the day –for a lifetime… Her eyes are filled with tears she cannot hold anymore, and as she tries to blink them away they only end up rolling down her cheeks; mixing up with the blood that is dripping from the multiple cuts that haven't coagulated. And so she cries ever so silently, she must be strong, not let anything show and prove her mother that it doesn't affect her anymore. Only problem is, it still hurts. Everything hurts; her 15 years old body is bleeding, and wounded, and she suffers like she had spent a lifetime in hell…

Bravely she takes a deep breath, dips the linen cloth in the water and starts cleaning up her face, gently going over the superficial cuts before attacking her lip. The cloth is tainted with blood once she's done, but the wound isn't bleeding anymore, she could almost forget it's there, if it wasn't for the sting it procures as the chilly air penetrates into it. She holds back another wave of tears, which like the preceding one end up filling her dark brown eyes, until they drip on their own. She repeats her cleaning operation with the defensive cuts on her hands and on her scrapped knees, repressing the stinging feeling that comes with it as best as she can.

She used to it by now; her mother is not really the loving kind. Well she says that she loves the young girl, but her actions say otherwise. It's for your own good, Regina, the words her mother speaks while beating her up come to her mind, you'll see. Later you will understand it was for the best. She chokes on her breath, how could a mother ever do that to her own flesh and blood?

She throws the cloth on the floor; it is now completely red, filled with her innocent blood. The young girl wishes she could sleep, she only wishes to lie on her side and not move for the rest of her days… but her ribs hurt. She can barely breathe; it hurts too much to feel her chest raise and fall as she inhales and exhales.

She brings her knees even closer to her breasts, holding tightly onto them, her head rests on her left arm and her eyes begin to close slowly as she drifts into a light sleep. Her sweet dreams are invaded by horrible nightmares –souvenirs of her mother's wrath-.

Still asleep she weeps and sobs silently only to be drawn back to reality by the sound of her own screams. She is terrified. Her room is now pitch black, she takes a look at her nightstand, the candle as burnt down and left dried wax on the wood of the table. Regina sighs, drawing a wince from her as she remembers her several broken ribs.

She wipes away her tears again; it's the first time that her injuries are actually more important than bruises, superficial cuts and broken bones. It's the first time she's actually going to keep a scar to remember her that she had done nothing wrong –as usual- and that she simply is a victim of her mother's magic and of her father's cowardice.

Anger shakes her whole body, invading her as she curses her father for turning a blind eye when Cora –her mother- decides to abuse of her power; she curses her mother for being a heartless bitch and she curses herself for not being able to fight back and for being afraid. And then she falls asleep unwillingly, exhausted and feeling like her life force has been stolen away from her.

-/-

Regina wakes up screaming again, her hand instinctively reaching for her upper lip. The scar is still there for everyone to see; for everyone to wonder what happened… She remembers her mother telling everyone, willing to listen, that her daughter was such a klutz, that she had fallen and hit herself on the corner of a piece of furniture. The young girl laughs bitterly; alone in her room. The disfigurement on her lip has healed; it has now become pale –just like her skin-, it's been a while now. Regina tires to remember just how much time has passed since.

"Almost three years…"she sighs, letting out a nervous laugh afterwards.

Three years; and nothing has changed. She still has to play the obedient daughter part, never say a word and nod silently as her life passes her by. This isn't her life… This is not what she wants… She grabs her sides, tries to comfort herself, the familiar warmth of tears on her cheeks.

"Nothing has changed, but I am to marry the King…" she sighs sadly.

Daniel. Her heart sinks in her chest. This is not what she had planned for him –or for herself in that matter. He's dead because of me. Because he loved me… Another wave of tears force their way through her lashes as violent sobs assails her body –her shoulders trembling forcefully.

She grabs her head, brings her knees to her chest –like she has done so many times in the past- and weeps.

A knock is heard on the door of her royal chambers, she doesn't answer and the door opens. She had not realised that her scream had been so loud. Her father slips his head through the opening in the door.

He sees her eyes lock on his face, sees the distressed look on her face –the same she had when the King asked her to be his wife- and he knows something is wrong. He runs up to her, holds her tight in his arm –trying to be protective-, wipes away the tears that flow on her beautiful face and hushes her sobs.

"Regina, sweetheart, it's alright…" he tries to be the father he always should have been. But it's far too late for that; his precious little daughter is already broken inside. She is already lost, not to darkness, but to despair.

He tilts her chin up, her brown eyes are now swollen, and red, and lightless. That gleam that used to bright them up is gone, her happiness is gone. Forever… Buried with her one and only true love. Buried six feet under next to a tree, on a hill in a small clearing.

He rocks her frail body, her head laying lightly on his chest, eyes closed and her hands around his waist.

She holds onto her father like her life depended on it, like her letting go meant she would be swallowed into oblivion and be lost forever.

"You are to be Queen soon, my dear. Everything is going to be fine." He continues. He's trying so hard to soothe her, but he's never really done it before. She always used to soothe her nightmares on her own. His daughter was strong like that… But that was before.

Before she was trapped here against her will, before she lost love, before she was almost beaten to death one stormy night.

He lets go, she gets up, walks to her balcony –ready to end it all-, he knows her intentions, but he doesn't stop her. She's been so miserable lately, staying in bed, crying, waking up in the death of night terrorized by nightmares –by souvenirs-. The sky is dark, clouds cover up the moon and there's no light coming from anywhere. She is ready to jump and fall on the cold, hard ground of the royal gardens. She looks at the sky once more, memorizing every single clouds every shades of grey they are composed of. A single thought coming to her mind as she observes silently, streams of water running down her eyes.

A storm is coming…

Leave a review of something if you want me to continue the story. I don't really plan to but if enough of you want to see more I won't mind. The ending leaves the possibility of it and I have plenty of ideas for poor, young and innocent Regina. Some more gruesome then others... any way.

Lyrics of Hurricane by MSMR

~I'll be updating It had to be you!? soon peeps.