AU: Emma Swan lives in New York, struggling to get by, dreaming of a life in which she is not an orphaned girl searching for a place she can call home. One night, everything changes. She is captured by the infamous Captain Hook, who is determined to return her to her estranged parents in return for a large bounty. What would be a week-long journey is filled with sirens, villains, and unspeakable evils that not even Hook had anticipated.
Emma flopped down on her torn-up sofa, grabbing the remote control to her right, which was currently wedged between the couch cushions. She channel-surfed for a minute or so, her finger lazily pressing down every second, finally turning the TV off and letting herself be bathed in darkness.
Exhausted, she laid down on the uncomfortable surface of the sofa, a stray piece of stuffing tickling her ear.
She had grown accustomed to the silence over the past year. She was managing a job as a local waitress at a run-down coffee shop- Presto Espresso- in the city from 7 until 5. It was pure hell, but it paid the bills. Well, most of them. From then on, she had a solid 3 hours to sleep until her shift downstairs at Granny's Bed and Breakfast. She worked until 1 am to cover for the rent, and even then, Emma knew that the old woman was being generous with her.
Emma's eyes began to flutter close, welcoming deep sleep after a long day of serving assholes and lonely old men. Most times she wanted to dunk their grotesque faces into a pot of steaming hot water, but she somehow managed to stay calm. None of that mattered when you could be jobless and homeless, right, Emma?
Either a few seconds or a few minutes into her nap, Emma awoke to the sound of her picture window bursting open (which was probably the nicest feature of her dank room at the B&B), a crash and a clattering sound accompanying it. She sat straight up and silently cursed the raging storm outside. A curtain of rain blew in, covering the wooden floor in water in mere seconds.
Seeing the new development in her night from hell, Emma begrudgingly left the couch and strode over to where the window was, quickly glancing outside and admiring the charcoal-gray clouds facing her.
Just as she was about to lock the window shut and hurry back to her nap, she was knocked to the ground by an unseen force. Emma quickly regained her senses and tried to throw her attacker to the ground, but he was too strong.
"Help me!" she shrieked, calling out for help that wouldn't come, struggling underneath the man's weight.
Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the perpetrator's face. The strange thing was, he didn't look too menacing. He had a round face and a receding hairline that was cleverly covered up by a red beanie.
Her voice was quickly muffled by a rag placed over her mouth. She felt strange—drowsy, almost.
Chloroform, she realized, panic settling over her features.
"Please, princess," he begged, his voice surprisingly apologetic, "the less you struggle the easier this will be."
What the hell?
Emma's brain was whirring with ideas as she tried to figure out how to escape this. She quickly glanced to both sides, something catching her eye. She was coming in and out of consciousness, but still, she knew she had to keep on fighting.
And then she spotted it. Victory.
In a flash, she reached to her right and grabbed a candle that had fallen to the ground during the whole debacle, swinging it as hard and as fast as she could towards the man's face.
Unfortunately, he jerked backwards at the last second, sensing her plan. Instead of colliding with his temple, the broken edges of the candle sliced his face, a large gash forming on his cheek.
The man howled in pain, a meaty hand coming to his cheek, pulling it away to find it covered in his own blood.
He wasn't knocked out cold—or worse—Emma thought (half-bitterly, half-relieved), but it would have to do.
With incredible strength she didn't even knew she had, Emma forcefully pushed him off of her and onto the ground, standing there for a split second, a part of her in shock, the other part admiring her handiwork.
Abandoning her temporary dazed state, Emma dashed to the door, opening her mouth to let out a plea for help. Everything was spinning.
She wrenched open the door, nearly causing it to come off of its hinges, only to find another figure standing right outside. Or were there two? Was she seeing double?
"Oh, thank god," she began, breathless, wide-eyed, and scared out of her mind, "there's this man in my apart—"
But she stopped abruptly, a wave of terror washing over her. This man was dressed in the same way as the man lying on the floor of her apartment.
As subtly as she could, Emma glanced back to where the man was. Or rather, should have been.
Before she could react, a hand wrapped around her waist, clutching her tightly, while another flew up to her mouth, the same rag pressed to her lips.
As she was swimming in and out of consciousness, weakly flailing her arms around in protest, Emma's eyes managed to focus on the man standing in front of her, doing nothing to help her.
He's in on it, too, she thought bitterly, casting him what she hoped was a glare.
What she saw was a tall figure—muscular—probably from kidnapping so many people, Emma thought angrily.
He was wearing the most idiotic black trench coat she had ever seen, along with a strange red vest beneath it.
Her eyes scanned over his face, attempting to memorize every part of it before she blacked out. When she was free, she would so report this dickwad to the police, she thought. He was fair-skinned, with dark hair that blended in with the shadows.
His eyes were sky blue, piercing and frightening.
As Emma finally let herself be enveloped in darkness, she heard him say: "Nice to meet you, Emma. You can call me Hook."
well, that was the first chapter! kinda short, but I didn't want to write 5,000 words and have no one like it. review, follow favorite? criticize, compliment!
:)