Scattered Lily Petals

Chapter One

AU: Hello! I'm starting this new fanfiction, and yes I will still be continuing Saving the Savior. I've been really excited to write this story ever since the idea popped in my head :) I must warn whoever is reading this that there will be a lot of triggering content in this story. If you've read any of my other fanfictions you already know this but I can't stress enough how much I don't want to trigger or upset anyone. This one may be my most triggering story yet because I'm rating this M. Anyways I love you and I obviously do not own Once Upon a Time or the Characters. I also do not own the cover image, the only thing I do own are my OCs and my OFC in this story, Lily Swan. I really hope you guys enjoy it and if you do please please please leave a review, I always love reading them! Here is the official trigger warning - Trigger Warning: Self-Harm, Rape, Sexual Abuse, Suicidal Elements, Mental Illness, Mentions of past Child Abuse, and Depression.

~ victorious_1314

Lily's Point of View

My head begins to ache as my toddler foster brother continues to scream and our "parents" do nothing to stop it. I swoop him up in my arms and balance him on my hip as I bounce him. He touches my neck and his chubby fingers find a particularly thick scar behind my ear. I flinch but allow him to continue for his curiosity has silenced his ear drum piercing wails. I walk into the dimly lit kitchen and catch a glimpse of my appearance in the dusty mirror. My limp brown hair frames my sunken in, almost skeletal features. A familiar scar goes from the corner of my right eye brow down past my eye and stops a centimeter from my nose. As a result of the past injury my effected eye is blind and looks like a blue-ish bowl of milk.

I grit my teeth and force the violent memories from my mind as I open the fridge and grab an applesauce for the child who now has his hand knotted in my hair roughly, William. I ignore the nagging pain in my scalp as he tugs harder and set him down in his baby chair that has been too small for him for months. He fusses from the tight squeeze but his face lights up when he sees his favorite treat in my hands. I ignore the yelling coming from the other room and start feeding William absentmindedly. I look at the clock and see the time is 7:00 PM. The sound of shattering glass is heard along with the increased volume of the screaming couple.

William ignores the noises and continues to eat the mush. I finish feeding him and take him to our shared room, away from the dangerous adults. After I change his diaper I put him in his footie pajamas and place him gently in the unsafe looking crib. I turn off the lights and grab my backpack so I can do my homework in the light of the hallway so I wont disturb the sleeping child. The homework is finished within twenty minutes. I grab my purse from my school bag and speed into the bathroom. After I pull out the first aid-kit I pull up my left sleeve and unwrap the fabric and gauze from the fifty or 60 small but deep cuts along with possibly hundreds of thick scars. I search the entire length of my forearm for a blank space to slice open but find none.

I tear off my shirt and find enough room for fifteen cuts on my left arm and ten on the other. I decide to save the left arm for another time and settle for five on my right upper arm. I open my purse, grab a small black bag, and pull out my dull razor. After cutting into my skin for what feels like hours I realize my blood is dripping to the floor. Panicking, I clean out my wounds and wrap them tightly with gauze and bandage them heavily. I ignore the endorphins, or blood loss, that threatens to make me pass out and scrub at the filthy tiled floor to rid of the crimson fluid that I've come to know so much.

I hear footsteps coming down the hallway and my hair stands on end. I throw my long-sleeved shirt on and feel tears begin to form. The door swings open and my drunk foster mother, Jude, sways in the doorway. I nod in her direction and avoid eye-contact as I attempt to walk past her into my bedroom. She grabs my shoulder and I look up at her with wide, frightened eyes.

"You know you're garbage, right?" Her words come out slurred but I understand her clearly enough. I simply nod again and push past her more forcefully. I thankfully manage to get to my room without her grabbing me again. I close the door softly as to not wake William and lay down on my small mattress against the opposite side of the wall. I inhale sharply at the recognizable agony that radiates from my back through my whole body as new pressure is introduced when I lay on down. The thick scars that penetrate deep into my back muscles leave my spine unaffected so I can't complain. At least I can walk with only minor amounts of pain.

The endorphins finally fully kick in and I am dragged into a hellish and restless sleep.

I wake up to the sound of arguing and roll my eyes in annoyance. William begins fussing right after I am woken and I run my hand through my tangled hair. I listen to the arguing and my heart starts beating rapidly in my chest from excitement when I realize I don't recognize the sound of the voice that is yelling the loudest. I sit up and bite back a groan of pain from the sudden movement and dash over on wobbly legs to William's crib. Child Services must be here to take us away. While this definitely isn't the worst home I've lived in over my sixteen years in foster care, I know that William still has a chance of having a normal childhood. People are still willing to adopt children his age. Even though I was a newborn when I was found in the woods. My sister with mysterious amnesia, Emma, demanded we can't be separated.

Five years later when she was seventeen she ran off and left me. I was too old to be adopted then, people like babies so they can easily imprint on them as their parents. William starts crying in my arms and I choose not to comfort him in an attempt to make our situation look worse to the adults who may take us away. I walk out to the living room and see a tall man who looks like he's in his twenties along with two women, one with blonde hair and one with black hair, who look the same age. All eyes land on me and I stare at them with my signature blank expression as William screams and bucks in my arms from being woken up while it's still dark out. I glance at the clock and see it's only 9:00 PM.

"Lily?" The woman with the blonde hair says quietly. I look at her and feel my heart drop and my throat tighten. Emma stands straight with a red faux leather jacket over a black tank top. Her golden hair still curls naturally like it did when we were young. I place the crying child down next to his bin of toys and wipe any emotion off of my face before turning to face her again.

"Lily, do you remember me? I left when you were young but-" My wicked foster mother cuts my sister off, "Don't bother, she hasn't spoken in years, hun. Trust me I've tried but she's a stubborn little bitch."

Emma and the other two people's eyes widen with shock at the first sentence and glare at her after the last. I briefly wonder who they are but my thoughts are interrupted by Emma, "It's me, Emma... Your sister. I'm here to take you with me. I have a home and I want you to come with me, I'll explain everything once we're out of here." She looks at my bored looking foster parents with malice.

I feel anger anger build inside me and know that I can't let her know. Even just the thought of speaking fills me with unfathomable anxiety. I look nervously at the blubbering toddler beside me and the tall man looks at me with understanding eyes and says, "Everything will be taken care of, Lily."

I nod hesitantly and walk briskly to my bedroom and empty my school bag's contents and fill it with clothes and toiletries. I also grab the baby blanket that I've childishly kept with me all of these years. When I finish packing my things I find Emma talking in a low voice to the serious looking man in the corner and the dark haired woman playing peek-a-boo with William. My foster parents are having a hushed discussion in the kitchen and I head towards the door. Not allowing myself to look at William, whom I've cared for, for months. Emma rushes towards me as I open the door and force myself through it without daring to look back at the young child.

I wait outside of the door for the others to join me and when they do I let them lead the way. We step outside and walk towards an adorably small yellow bug car and I sit in the back with the dark haired woman. Emma begins driving and the tension in the car is so prominent you could cut it with a knife. We drive for a bit longer and the blond man turns on the radio. I fall asleep instantly and for the first time in years I dream of nothing.

I open my eyes and forget where I am for a briefly terrifying moment. The car goes over a pothole and my head slams painfully against the glass of the window. I sit up straight immediately and look around to see Emma still driving the car, the man looking solemnly out the window, and the dark haired woman staring at me intently. I meet her gaze with my functional eye and she looks away sheepishly. Even though I'm used to the terrified and curious glances I get from people everyday because of my ghost like complexion, my bony body, and my unseeing eye, I feel strange when this woman looks at me. Perhaps it is the fact that I have no idea how long she was looking at me, or it was the unmistakable expression of complete and utter grief she wore while staring at me.

I look out the window and see nothing but darkness. We drive on a small winding road past what I've discovered are dense forests and a sign on the left side of the road catches my eye and I can barely make out the word, "Storybrooke" through the thick blackness. I laugh internally at the pun and lean back against the head rest. Out of the corner of my eye I catch the woman looking at me again and don't even bother to stop her this time.