A/U: Ok, so this is my very first fanfic, so bare with me :) Ok so this is just some random thing i wrote for an essay, so...
btw, there are some images of harm and blood...
hope you enjoy! :)
Disclamer: I dont own anny OUAT characters, sadly :(
Nightmares
The blindfold covering my eyes was swallowing my last connection to humanity. The silence was screaming in my mind. I was all alone; I did not know where I was, or what time was. Not even the smell of fresh, raw fish could paint an image, of where I was hidden.
The rope, tying my hands to the chair I was sitting on, was cutting into the skin of my wrists. I kept on struggling, trying to free myself from the death grip of the rough twine, only to injure my raw, bleeding skin more.
The envying feeling of my long blond hair clinging to my sweat drenched face and tickling my rose red cheeks was constant, nothing could be done, my hands were painfully tied behind my back. I wanted to cry but that would have made me surface as weak and that was the last thing I needed, weakness. I had to keep it together, stay strong and figure out where I was. Panic rushed through my bloodstream and I was close to shedding tears, 'Get a grip, Emma! All will be ok.' I told myself sternly, I only made myself worry more, with that.
I heard the echoing click, clack of stiletto heels on cold hard cement. I did not need sight to figure out who it was, I simply knew. The rhythm of her pace was so familiar; I would be able to figure it out amongst hundreds of people like a bloodhound could sniff out its master.
My thoughts were clawed away from my mind by the sharp pain of duct tape being yanked off my pale, chapped lips. Some of the skin, covering the sensitive flesh underneath, was torn with, forcing small specks of crimson fluid to leak through the divided skin.
The blindfold was next to leave my face. A few golden strands of my hair were caught in her grip and she plucked them with, a sharp pain was left behind, making me wince slightly. My eye-sight was adjusting slowly; I became aware of my surroundings. I was in a large, dark room with few golden rays of sunlight beaming through the cracks in the walls. The stench of fish made me realize I was in an abandoned warehouse at the harbour.
A slim, distorted female figure became clear. Her raven black hair was cut into a stylish bob, just longer than her shoulders. Her olive toned skin reminded me so of Porto Rico, home. There was small scar in the left top corner of her lip, giving her a fierce appearance. A slight smirk told me, that she was about to inflict great harm upon me.
I could not understand why she would do something like this; kidnap me, take me away from my family. She was my mother's best friend, my father's colleague. Regina Mills, my godmother. The woman I was supposed to trust with my life. I never wronged her; I never hurt her in any way.
She was leaning down. My forest green eyes meeting her whisky coloured orbs, darkened with hate and despair.
"You deserve everything that is in store for you, my dear Emma" she whispered with her husky voice. Her breath tickling my cheek. Warm, salty liquid was streaming down my pale cheeks; I did not know what it was, until my eyes started to burn, they were my tear. I was weakened. I could not do anything she had completely overpowered me.
When she rose again, I twitched in fear that she might hurt me then, and there, but she had simply stridden away. A shy sigh left bruised lips, I thought I was free. My hope bubble was burst, when Regina returned with a small shining object, I could not yet make out what it was. She stepped closer, enabling my eyes to recognise the metal in her soft hands. It was a scalpel.
Fear rushed through every part of my body; I did not know what she wanted to do with me. Harm me, set me free? As she stepped closer, I started to cry even more, I tried to loosen the ropes, the walls between me and my life, it did not work. I gave up, she could do anything, and I had no power to fight her.
She stepped around the chair resting one of my hands in hers. They were soft, not the hands of a killer.
I could feel a strong, sharp pain as the blade met the skin my wrist, slightly tearing my artery. Warm liquid was rushing down my pale hand, the pain was unimaginable.
I started to scream as loud as my voice would let me, I squeezed my eyes shut, praying that the pain would soon stop. A white light was enveloping the darkness, death was soon upon me. The light grew, swallowing the darkness, until all that was left was the bright white light.