It wasn't always like this, they used to be happy together, but in the last few years something happened that shifted the energy in the house and she had been the first to notice that her once loving home had become her version of hell. Anytime she caught her parents arguing, they would immediately stop and assure her that everything was fine, offering false assurances that she was imagining things and that they hadn't been arguing before she entered the room. But the teen knew better, she wasn't five years old anymore and she was growing tired of her dysfunctional surroundings.
"Emma?" A meek voice called out, tearing her attention away from the book she had been reading. "Yeah mom?" Pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, Emma met the woman's gaze with a quizzical expression. "Could you go tell your father that dinner's ready?" Not bothering to wait for her daughter's response, Emma's mother went back to maneuvering around the kitchen, prepping dinner plates with what smelled delicious to the teen. Hopping up from her spot on the couch, eager to sate the rumbling in her stomach, she heads to the garage where her father likes to seclude himself. She was about to turn the knob to the garage door when she heard his voice, he was attempting to whisper but the baritone-having man was usually unsuccessful in that practice. So instead, she presses her right ear against the door after pushing a handful of blonde tresses behind it, ensuring she'd hear what was being said clear as day.
"I already told you, I can't tonight...No, you know I'd rather be with you but I can't leave without her jumping down my goddamn throat...It's because of the kid we adopted, neither one of us wants to get stuck, but she's almost grown now and soon we'll be together..." Emerald eyes widened as she wondered who the hell he could be talking to, though she already had a clue, beginning to seethe with anger at the confession regarding her. "Yeah she's a bitch but I can't afford her taking me to court right now, baby. Not after all the money I saved up from the state-" Okay, she's heard enough of this shit and takes it upon herself to knock, no bang, on the door to get his attention.
"Shit, I gotta go. I love you." Clearing his throat, he hangs up the call, "Yes?" Now his volume's at its normal setting, but Emma feels like if she opens her mouth, if she lets one word out, she'll say something she won't regret, no matter how ugly it'd be. Instead, she walks away, because she can't bear to look at him right now after what he's said, and marches upstairs to her room, slamming and locking the door behind her. Not long after, she hears her parents arguing again, this time louder than the last, and she's had enough. No child should have to endure this, ever, and it's when she hears her mother yell, "Fuck you!" and her father repeat that word, "Bitch!" she decides that today was the last day she'd stand by and listen to them.
No, Emma Swan's childhood wasn't bad at all. She can recall Sundays at the park and family vacations to California, Colorado and New York. It wasn't until she turned 13 that her eyes were opened to the truth behind the hushed arguing that eventually evolved into full on shouting matches; her parents weren't in love anymore and this was all just a front. "I'm outta here," she decides, digging through her closet as she begins packing her gym bag full of clothes. And nothing nor no one was going to stop her now that she was technically an adult since she had just graduated high school and was 18 years old. She had one of two choices on how this was going to play out: she could wait until night time and sneak out, avoiding the possibility of them trying to stop her, or she could storm out of here right now, make a scene and leave an impressionable memory on them because once she was gone, it'd be a long time before she came back.
Her option was chosen for her when she heard the sound of glass crashing against the floor, it was now or never. Throwing her bag over her shoulder after securely putting her laptop in it, she grabs her wallet and checks to make sure her cash and cards are in there. Emma had always been somewhat of a penny pincher, saving her money while the rest of her friends would spend their money on new iPhones and stylish clothes. She was happy in her comfortable Chuck Taylors, jeans and t-shirts, so it wasn't surprising that after working for four years, during the school year and summer, that she had about $40,000 saved. It would've been more had she not been paying her car insurance every month but she didn't complain, it was nice to have the freedom to leave whenever she got ready, just like she was about to do right now.
Descending the stairs quietly, she listens for any arguing and is partially relieved to find none. Her hand was on the door knob, ready to turn until Blondie barks and startles her. The year old golden retriever proceeds to run over and pounce on her owner, ecstatic to see her at the door, thinking they were about to go on an outing. "Sshh, girl. Be quiet," Emma whispers, patting the dog's head, giving the precise amount of attention to get her best friend to calm down. "Emma?" Both her parents called out at the same time, rounding the corner from the kitchen to see here standing there, a bag on her shoulder and her keys in hand. Her mother was first to speak next, "Where are you going sweetheart?"
"Out," the teen grumbled. "Where?" Her father barked, earning a glare from his daughter. "Why do you care! I'm leaving this hell hole and not looking back!" Seething with anger, Emma's breathing quickened as she fought off tears, too stubborn to let them see how their fighting has affected her in the worst of ways. "You aren't going anywhere, young lady. So you apologize to your mother and I, then march your little behind back up those stairs and stay in your room until further notice." He couldn't be serious. She scoffed and released a mocking laugh, "You're kidding, right?" But the scowl on his face said otherwise, her mother just standing there with that deer-caught-in-headlights look. "I'm leaving this house for good. I'm sick and tired of the constant arguing, but you want to know what put the final nail in the coffin? I heard your conversation in the garage." The matriarch's eyes widened, guilt washing over his expression, causing Emma's own determination to harden. "Yeah, that's right. I heard what you said to that bitch," "Emma!" Her mother scolded, but the young blonde couldn't care less anymore. "I know how you're cheating on mom but won't leave because of me, because neither one of you wants to solely be responsible for me. So you know what? I'm going to make it easier for the both of you. Have a nice life." With that, she beckoned Blondie and walked out the front door, slamming it closed and leaving behind a highly upset former father and clearly distraught former mother. Putting the only true family she had left in the backseat next to her bag, Emma Swan got into her yellow Volkswagen and didn't hesitate to drive off, glancing up at her rearview mirror as her home became nothing but a distant memory; physically and metaphorically.