Emma pushes her glasses closer to her eyes and breathes. Everything is prepared, the bag hidden behind the old box of sewing accessories. She adjusts her ponytail and stares at the clock; three minutes left. Three minutes, until Mary and David go to bed and she can leave. She pinches her eyes, presses her fists together and prays to god, that no one will catch her. She puts the goodbye note on the kitchen table and caresses it as if she is lost in her own thoughts.
"Goodnight, honey!", Mary shouts from upstairs. Emma tries to conceal the lump in her throat. It is the first time in ages she feels at home. But she will keep her promise. Her fingers linger around the necklace around her neck.
"I will find you, I promise."
07:15 PM.
She grabs her bag and prances slowly to the front door. One last time she looks at her cozy home, then she closes the door quietly behind her. She runs straight, tries not to look back. She strangles the bag handle tighter and runs faster. Whether she gets across the border to London without being stopped or not, is questionable. Emma knows that August has to be there. He promised her not to leave until she found him. It has been two years since she last saw him. Is he still the same person as before?, she asks herself.
The cool breeze wraps around her neck. It is colder than expected, perhaps she needs a motel or something to get through the night. The only money she carries with her are her savings that were meant to pay her first car (the one she will never see or have now). She always wanted a yellow bug.
It probably will not be long before Mary and David start looking for her. The bus trip to Aldbury takes about two hours, she will be long gone before they can catch up with her. Thank goodness it was quiet enough to get some sleep before the bus stopped in front of the old motel.
The bed definitely isn't as comfortable as it was at home. The cover has holes and is partly dirty. She doesn't want to complain though, it was extremely cheap and she really needed a place to stay.
Her hands wipe the dust from the round mirror in the bathroom, so she can look at her tired face. It's edgy, fragile and gaunt. Dark circles round her eyes and the make-up is running down her cheek due to the damp fog outside. Clearly a corpse, she thinks. She puts on a loose top and ties her hair into a wild bun. Her back feels heavy, but she doesn't care right now. All she wants to do is sleep.
The next morning is fresh and unfamiliar. Emma doesn't know exactly where to start, August could be everywhere. The first step is to go to London. Maybe she can ask someone in his old apartment building, or maybe he still lives there after all. She has been walking for at least three hours now. Leave as early as possible and never look back - something she taught herself the past couple hours.
The city, or the village in which she arrives, is small but cute. It is old-fashioned, on the facades of houses flaunt old drawings of ships, mermaids and pirates. Each house has its own story. The paths are stony, not comparable to her homeland. It feels as if she's had landed in the middle ages. A city market is set up around the village square, in the middle there is a large crowd looking at something. Curious as she is, she steps closer. The sounds of an acoustic guitar is heard through the crowd. She can't figure what song it is, even who's playing. All she hears is the rousing, deep and raspy voice of a man and his guitar. He pulls the people around him in his spell. Total silence, everyone is listening closely.
Run away, away with me
Lost souls in revelry
Running wild and running free
Two kids, you and me
And I say
Hey, hey hey hey
Living like we're renegades
Emma pushes slowly forward, still paying attention to the voice. Finally, she can see him. The man with that voice. His dark black hair falls casually over his forehead. His eyes are closed, he bobs in time to the music, his foot is his clock counter. He wears torn jeans, a white, dirty shirt and a dark leather jacket over his shoulders. Unquestionably, very attractive. If not the most attractive man she had ever seen. He is certainly not much older than she is . He presses his lips together and hums to the sound of his guitar. His fingers fly over the strings slightly, he appears to be a natural. The clapping of the audience tears him from his thoughts and he lifts up his head, still smiling. His gaze wanders from left to right but stops at Emma. He pinches his eyes and smiles. She tries to smile back, but it definitely looks more embarrassing than it should've.
He waves his fans forward, collects the money and puts it in his leather bag. No wonder he makes so much money. Good looks and talent combined, a miracle that he is still here at all.
"Can I help you, love?", his words flow through her blood like a hot sting. He does not seem to be particularly interested in her. While she tries to put into words what she is trying to ask him, he packs up his guitar, not giving her a single look.
"You have a really nice voice and.."
"Thank you", his mouth is twitching.
".. I was wondering if you could help me with something. I really need money to go to London and.."
He quickly turns around and raises his left eyebrow.
"Are you a hooker?", he laughs and screens her from top to bottom.
"Oh, no, no. I thought, maybe you could give me some of your money."
He stands there, like a confused deer until he bursts out in laughter.
"Love, I work hard for my money. I don't just give it away to random, I must say beautiful, strangers", he lifts his guitar bag on his shoulders and starts walking away. Emma follows him.
"Isn't there anything I can help you with? I need to find someone really important to me in London. Please, I don't have enough money and you seem to have more than enough!", she pleads.
"Like I said, I worked hard for that money."
There is only one thing left she can try to convince him. She begins to sigh, her cheeks pull up and she tries to deliver the most embarrassing dog eyes that she has ever delivered. The singer wrinkles his forehead and occurs closer to her.
"You are a crazy little blonde. I didn't quite catch your name, did I?", he smiles and holds out his hand. Hard to believe that this actually worked.
"Emma Swan", she answers, almost jumping up and down.
"Killian Jones, my pleasure. I could always use a crazy assistant. Where exactly do you want to go?"
She shrugs and bites her lip, her eyes not turned away from his. Those blue, blue, blue eyes. Killian runs his tired hands over his knees and sighs.
"Alright, I can help you get to London, I was planning to go there anyway. You can join me and I'll help you pay your stuff, but I won't give you any money so you can spend it on drugs. I am quite perceptive, so..."
"Don't worry, I won't get you in trouble, I promise that you won't regret this."
song lyrics by X-Ambassadors - Renegades
