Hi, this is my first fanfiction - okay, not the first per se, since I write since I was fourteen/fifteen, but it's the first one I translated in english.
I'd like to start with a WARNING, so, please, read this because it'll explain what I want to do with this fic:
1. This is a story about human traffic, so if that's a trigger for you, please don't read.
2. This isn't exactly the Emma we know, she's really, really broken, more broken than the real Emma, and some of her thoughts may be kind of disturbing, like she has to be the perfect wife, she has to do what her husband says... that kind of things. I'd also like to say that this is NOT my idea of what a wife should be, at all, it's all about the sake of the plot, so please, don't insult me or this fic trying to say that I want people to believe these things. I don't want that. This is a story about healing in more ways that one, and there's also a little crime, smut, love... but more importantly, it will be about healing.
3. As I said, this story is about healing, but I am not a psychologist nor I want to pretend to be one, so please do not come at me for Emma's thoughts or Killian's choices.
4. I love Killian Jones with all my heart, and this fic is not anti-Killian, at all. Yes, he buys Emma, and I don't condone this choice (ok, I'm the author, but, again, it's the plot) and we'll see why he did this choice, but not now.
5. Even if it doesn't seem so, everything in this fic will be consensual, every kiss, every touch. Yes, it could be read as dub-con since Emma's mind is kinda twisted, but it isn't. Everything they'll do, she wants it.
6. Updates. Argh, updates don't mix well with a student's life, right? Too right. I'm a slow writer if I can't find inspirations, or else I'm capable of writing lot of pages in a day. Still, I have university to consider, and I'm four exams and a thesis away from my degree, and I have to study, but this is also my baby, and I promise you, I'll finish it, one way or another. But please, don't beg me for more, because I've 9 chapters written even though I started it more than a year ago (does it help saying that there are 115 pages? yes? no?) and I know how I want it to go on. I have it all planned, I just need to put it into words.
7. Like I said, I'm italian, so I have to translate it (I could not do that, but it would be even more difficult) and it takes time and a lot of attention. Still, something might escape me, so please, bear with me and my mistakes, I'll try not to make them, but I'm not perfect.
So, a little backstory: this fic came to me right affter last year's Eurovision - in fact the title comes from one of its songs, one I love even if it was a little snobbed - and it actually doesn't have a lot of backstory, more like a nagging thought. So I sat down and started to write this story, trying to come up with a reason Killian would buy Emma, how bring justice to her, how make them fall in love but keeping them behind their sky-high walls (because yes, even Killian has walls - like he always had). I love this fic even if I have a lot of them in my pc, but this is something important to me and that's why I want to share it with you. And it's set in 2016, not in 2017.
Thank you so much, I hope you enjoy this first chapter.
Love,
Sara.
«S-sold?»
Emma Swan knew that, since Madame Mills had taken her away from that horrible foster home when she was thirteen, that day would come. Only, she didn't expect it to come so soon.
«Bought, purchased; in your case, married,» Cora Mills replied with her usual sugary smile, lips as red as the sins she provided.
It wasn't news that the girls were bought for more or less legal purposes – not that those deals were legal, that is.
Madame Mills' activity was one of the most devious and miserable ones: escorts, prostitutes, masseuses, wives.
Because, yes, there were dishonourable men that stooped so low and bought themselves a wife; for what purposes, Emma could only imagine.
There were men that bought women for sex, maybe they'd tried them once and they'd been satisfied, or they wanted a partner – read: slave – who would do anything she was asked. In some cases, they married only because they wanted to have a partner to show off in public, someone whom they'd never actually care about. Not that they would care about them at all, obviously, none of Madame Mills' girls ever found her happy ending, or at least not the one Emma had wanted so much when she was a child, before she had to give it up because no one had ever wanted her.
But now she was actually married. Of course, she would become a trophy wife, or a slave wife, just like they had taught her for all those years.
They'd broken her, extinguishing that fire she had inside, the same one that made her feel alive. Now, after years spent learning how to pleasure a man, working out in the gym to maintain her body lithe and firm, distancing more and more her heart from what surrounded her, Emma Swan was nothing more than an empty shell.
Sitting on the other side of the mahogany desk, hands curled up in fists in her lap, Emma took a deep breath. It was absurd, she wasn't even wearing a ring, yet she was already married. Even more absurd was the fact that she didn't even know who her husband was, but that was the way things went with Madame Mills; the future of the girls was a one-way street, already written for all they knew.
It happened, in fact, that a family wanted a marriage of convenience for their daughter, and the only way to transform her into a docile young girl was sending her to Cora Mills, headmistress of that institute, that prison from whence a girl could get out only through a man.
«Where to?» she asked dryly, forcing herself not to cry. She knew she didn't have a choice, none of them in there did.
Cora smiled, if possible, even more widely, so much she resembled the Cheshire Cat. The sight gave Emma chills. «Oh, dear, you'll like it,» she replied, putting a manila folder with her name on it in front of Emma.
One of the golden rules was that none of the girls could know their husbands or their clients before meeting them in person, which sometimes led to cries and hysterical screams, especially for those who sold their bodies. Wives were allowed to know where they would go and where they would live the rest of their lives in addition to a short story to memorize and some of their husbands' biographical data and personal preferences in order to make it all more believable.
Reluctantly, Emma grabbed the folder and opened it, revealing a photo of a house – no, not a house, a manor – surrounded by sparkling green lawns and topped by a dull grey sky that somehow didn't clash with the landscape. It seemed too beautiful to be true, snow white and seemingly harmonious, almost promising a happy ending. It could have come out straight from a fairytale if only fairytales were real.
«Ah, yes, the fascination of Ireland,» Cora sighed almost dreamily. «It doesn't mean you'll have to stay there all the time, of course not, on the contrary, I predict a lot of journeys on the horizon for you. That is if he'd like to bring you with him.»
Emma's mind had stopped at Ireland.
It was inconceivable. Of course, Madame had contacts everywhere, but from what she had heard since she had arrived there, no girl was ever sold to someone on the other side of the ocean. She would have been the first, and she didn't like it at all.
Being thousands of miles away from there meant she couldn't be with Ruby anymore, passing the nights watching old movies and gossiping about celebrities' lives. She couldn't watch the sun set on New York anymore, inflaming the landscape, while she tried not to think about her future, wishing she could stop the time at that exact moment.
«When?»
There wasn't much Emma could do, she simply had to endure what was happening to her. Every night, when she curled up under the covers of her bed, she told herself she would bear everything, that she was strong enough not to be overwhelmed by desperation. Since she was welcomed in there, the desperate cries and the screams stifled by the pillow had diminished considerably during the years, but nothing would stop her from sinking down again in that state of anguish once she arrived in her new home.
Home, what a stupid thought. To her, that house would be yet another prison, an orphan didn't have a home.
«You'll leave this evening with the 9pm flight and you'll land tomorrow morning in Dublin. Non-stop flight, first class. When you'll arrive, you'll find a chauffeur who'll take you to your new home.» Emma kept her eyes lowered, looking at the folder she had in her lap without actually seeing it. «Oh, my dear, it could have been definitely worse, trust me.»
Emma tried to turn her lips upwards into a smile but it turned out more like a grimace. What fate was worse than being sold as a wife to a perfect stranger? Not even death was that horrible.
«Come on, now, go pack your bags, I want you ready by five thirty, God only knows how awful is traffic in New York. »
«Can Ruby come with me?» Emma asked, looking shyly at Cora. Be accompanied by another girl wasn't forbidden, but it was extremely rare, mostly because no one remained there too long to form a friendship or wanting one, seeing the other girls as an obstacle to their so-called freedom. Emma and Ruby had arrived almost at the same time and, since then, they had always been in the same room, becoming inseparable over time. Emma needed her courage to take that flight and to make her understand that she didn't have any other choice but to abandon her and that they'd call each other daily, if necessary.
Cora chuckled. «Of course, dear, I'm not heartless.»
Explain that to the girls you've sold like meat for the grinder, Emma thought bitterly, biting hard on her tongue to restrain herself to spit those poisonous words.
«This is the folder about your new husband, inside you'll find all the basic information about him along with your boarding card. Now go.»
Closing the folder about the house and taking the one Madame Mills was handing her, Emma strode out of the room, keeping herself from running towards her bedroom once the door was closed behind her, hot tears rolling down her cheeks.
Once she crossed the door of her room, Emma dashed over her bed, trying desperately to suffocate herself with the pillow while she kept crying.
«Emma, what happened? What did Madame Mills tell you?»
Ruby had rushed to her side the moment she'd seen her and now she was stroking lovingly her back to comfort her. She knew she couldn't do much for her; actually, she couldn't do anything, no one could stop her from leaving.
They'd heard many stories about girls who had tried to escape from the airports once they had landed, and because of that they had armed with microchips they'd implant underneath the skin of their wrists to supervise their movements, keeping in touch constantly with their future jailers. Then, it was up to these men to remove the chip and destroy it.
Keeping a firm grip on her, Ruby forced Emma to turn around and brushed her hair off her face. She knew too well what Cora had said to her, both were doomed to be bought to get married. At first, Ruby was listed to be an escort, but Cora eventually had thought that people would have paid an arm and a leg to have her.
To be honest, Emma had never been able to understand why she had always been listed as a wife; she doubted that someone wanted to train her, after all it was Cora who'd found her. Sure, she could have been sent by someone, but Emma doubted it since she didn't know anybody. No one knew Emma, no one wanted her – starting from her parents.
«I have to… I have to go to Ireland, Rubes,» Emma cried out as more tears spilled down her cheeks. Her chin trembled as she launched herself on Ruby, plunging her face in the thick black hair of her best friend, the closest thing to a family she had ever had.
«Oh, Emma,» Ruby sighed, clutching her tightly, unconcerned about the two folders pressed between them, now probably all crinkled.
«I don't want to go away,» Emma whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. She didn't want that life, the one as a trophy wife or prostitute wife, she didn't even know what was her role anymore. Maybe it would've been better if she had stayed in the system, maybe someone would have wanted her, maybe…
Maybes weren't enough, reality wasn't made of maybes. What she was living now was reality, a reality that had made her into an object a man had bought because, maybe, he was too much nauseating to find himself a wife, or too old, or… Actually, she didn't even know what to think, Cora's words kept swirling around in her mind, first of all Ireland.
How could she send her to the other side of the world? How could she do what she did everyday to all the girls she pretended to help by getting them off the streets? How could she do this to her? Emma was no one to Cora, just a number, just a mean to add money to her bank account at the Seychelles, nothing more than an object.
«I know,» Ruby whispered rubbing her back and passing her finger through her hair almost motherly. It was ridiculous, Emma didn't even know how it was to have a mother, but she needed Ruby, in that moment more than anything.
Ruby couldn't ask her to run away, couldn't help her going on with her life in Ireland, whatever her life would be. Emma could only count on her from afar, assuming she was allowed to. Anguish bloomed in her chest at the thought that her husband would forbid her to live her partial freedom – if you could call it freedom, slavery was more fitting but definitely more brutal and Cora despised that word – wondering if he would allow Emma to keep in touch with her best friend.
They hold each other until Emma stopped trembling, tears to shed crystallized in her green eyes that had lost that faint light she still had after being rejected for years by all those foster families.
Hugging her tighter, Ruby leaned her cheek on Emma's hair. «I'm so sorry, Emma,» she whispered keeping her tears from overwhelming her, she would save them for later, when the bed they were sitting on wouldn't be Emma's anymore, when she would wake up in the middle of the night because of her nightmares and her only family couldn't comfort her anymore, when she would miss the evenings watching a movie or when they would be scolded because they were singing too loudly.
«I just want you to come with me, I want to be able to escape from this place, maybe we can find someone who can remove these damned microchips, someone in some slum in New York, they'll surely know how to make us disappear, we could start over, we could…»
«Emma,» Ruby said softly, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her away slightly, watery eyes looking at her while she shook sadly her head. «Emma, we can't do anything, sweetcheeks, we can't live the life we want. But you've got a chance, you've got the chance to gain something good from all of this, maybe… maybe this new life in Ireland will have some surprises in store for you, maybe it isn't too late to be happy.»
Emma pulled back like she'd been burned from Ruby's words. «My life can't be based on maybes, Ruby, I can't allow myself to hope,» she hissed between her teeth, feeling bad about fighting with her best friend when she should only try to spend more time with her and try to memorize her smile. She looked down on the crumpled folders. «I don't want to say goodbye.»
Biting her lower lip, Ruby shook her head, hugging Emma again. «Neither do I,» she whispered, «and I won't, this isn't goodbye. We'll call each other every day, I'll stay up all night if you'll want me to; you know I'll always be there for you even if I'm a million miles away.»
«We'll find a way, Ruby,» Emma whispered against her shoulder, clinging to her like she was her own lifesaver – and she was, she always had been. «I'll find a way to get you out of here.»
It would have been too good to be true, they both knew that. It was a utopia, but Ruby knew very well that Emma wouldn't make empty promises. «No,» she said sharply, pulling away again from Emma. «I can't let you do something like that, not for me.»
«Ruby, you are the only one who matters to me, I would risk everything for you and I know you'd do the same for me.»
This silenced Ruby for a moment, red lips pressed into a thin line. «You have to promise me that you won't do anything stupid, Emma. Promise me that you won't go on some suicide mission to get me out of here. Promise me, Emma.»
They stared for a long time into each other's eyes, both trying to best the other one. Ruby couldn't allow Emma to go on with her stupid plan, one they had talked about – argued about – and, at the same time, Emma couldn't allow Ruby to end like her or like some of the other girls already sold.
«I promise you,» Emma muttered after a few moments without glancing away, «but if I ever have the chance to get you out of here, I swear on our friendship that I'll take it and you won't stop me.»
The brunette couldn't keep herself from smiling, shaking her head. «I wouldn't expect less from you, Emma.» She looked up at the clock above the door, sighing. «When do you have to leave?»
Right, it wasn't about ifs anymore – it had never been, but you couldn't take away hope all at once, you had to do it slowly over the years.
Emma lowered her gaze, her lip pulled between her teeth. «I have to be ready by five thirty,» she whispered so quietly that Ruby almost didn't hear her, the only confirmation that she did was her surprised wince.
«That's… soon,» she muttered under her breath. Usually the girls were told they would leave a day or two before the actual departure, they would make them sleep in their rooms one last time. It was also true that no one of them had ever gone overseas before. Whoever had bought Emma must have wanted her immediately.
With a simple bob of her head, Emma nodded, conscious that she was running out of time and she was so tired, tired of having to endure all the injustices the world had inflicted and would inflict on her, tired of not being loved or wanted. It was sadly ironic that she would be the one to leave, the one to leave the only person who loved her.
«Go take a shower, you have to… be beautiful and proud like an amazon to face such a long flight and you'll need all the comfort you can imagine.»
Oh, dear, sweet Ruby, how much she would miss her, her jokes and the way only she was able to read her and cheer her up. Emma tried to banish that feeling of loneliness that was already threatening to bloom in her chest. It was too soon to feel alone, she could allow herself to pretend for a few more minutes that all was well even if she knew that then the blow would be more painful.
Regardless, Emma smiled, thankful for having Ruby, it was better than having no one. «Perish the thought,» she said trying to keep her voice light, but her laugh came out gloomy.
«Indeed, so hurry up, I'll be a good girl and pack your bags.»
Emma nodded, squeezing her hand before standing up from the bed, reluctant. «I've asked Madame if you could come with me to the airport,» she said moistening her lips, she absolutely didn't want to repeat the exact same words Cora had said, but Ruby must had read them on her face because she wrinkled her nose, disgusted. «So, get ready.»
I don't want to go alone, I don't trust myself enough to do that. Those were the words Emma needn't to speak aloud, unspoken words that Ruby understood while she turned her back on her and ran into the bathroom.
Without looking at her reflection in the mirror, Emma undressed herself and let the water run in the shower, wondering for the umpteenth time why that was her fate. Taking a deep breath, she slipped under the hot stream, hoping that the water could wash away that awful day, or maybe all those years she had spent in there, all the days since the moment she was born she had spent feeling unwanted by anyone who met her gaze.
To everyone, she had always been the orphan, the lost girl abandoned by the side of a road in Maine, and she would have died of hypothermia if someone wouldn't have miraculously noticed her.
The only thing she had that belonged to her parents was a wool baby blanket with her name embroidered on it – someone must have loved her at least a little to knit that blanket, right? – and the necklace she always wore around her neck.
When she was little, after the Swans had sent her away – it was really ironic that there was a swan on her pendant – she began wearing the necklace as a way for her parents to recognize her, she was certain that if her parents would see it they would take her home with them, reunited like a real, happy family.
Instead, the only person who'd took interest in her, a thirteen-year-old trying to run away in the streets of Chicago, was the one who had locked her up for almost ten years in that luxurious prison in New York.
Covering her face with her hands, Emma collapsed against the tiled wall and slid down until she was sitting under the scorching spray. She hugged her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them and letting the tears blend in with the water.
She wasn't ready to leave, maybe she wouldn't ever be, but she couldn't back down anymore, she couldn't let herself think she wouldn't be the next one, that another girl would satisfy a man's depraved desires.
She stayed in there for a long time, knowing that too much time had passed only when she sensed the first drops of cold water raining on her skin like ice needles.
She stood reluctantly, aware that her time was quickly running out, and poured the shampoo on her palm, starting to massage her hair. Madame wanted every girl to always smell good, therefore she allowed them to buy various cosmetics so their skin would always be shiny and fragrant. Emma had always been biased, she loved everything that smelled of vanilla while Ruby preferred cherry and liquorice as her own signature scents.
Doing her best to ignore the feeling of cold that was numbing her skin, Emma finished washing as if she was an android, as if her mind was disconnected and her body was responding to impulses dictated by someone else. It was ironic that her whole life had always been like that, a puppet's life.
With a sigh, she turned off the water and wrapped herself in her bathrobe, tightening it around her waist like it was an armor. She dried her hair in complete silence, brushing her blonde locks again and again, she didn't want any curl, they didn't seem fit for the trip even though Ruby would be displeased. Beauty was their weapon, but Emma never felt beautiful, nor wanted to pretend to feel like that for a man that maybe had bought her without even looking at her picture.
She forced herself to put on some make-up, by now she could do it with her eyes closed, she had spent years improving what today's teenagers tried to learn from YouTube tutorials. Eyeliner, mascara, eye-shadow, blush, lipstick, she wanted to keep it simple because she knew that Cora would inspect her from head to toe and wouldn't give her approval if she wasn't wearing at least a little make-up.
She finished drying herself off and went back to her room, on her bed the large suitcase was full of her clothes, except for shoes and accessories that Ruby was arranging in the smaller one while sitting on the floor.
Ruby looked up at her, sighing when she noticed her now straight hair. «I've left out some clothes for the trip, but you have to give me the bathrobe and the beauty-case so I can finally close these suitcases.»
Forcing a smile, Emma nodded, grabbing the clothes and going back into the bathroom. She let the bathrobe slip off her body, grabbing the matching underwear Ruby had prepared for her, nothing too alluring, just a white bra and panties without laces or frills. It was maybe the most chaste set she had, Madame Mills had always been strict about the fact that no one of the girls had to wear second-hand clothes or something bought in an outlet. Everything they had were branded products but they couldn't show them off since they rarely went shopping or to take a coffee at the Starbucks around the corner, always escorted, obviously.
It was mid-January, so it was obvious that, even in Ireland, it was cold, and Emma was thankful she hadn't been forced to spend the holidays with her new husband. Ruby had thought about the weather waiting for her and had chosen a white shirt, a beige sweater, jeans and light brown leather knee-high boots with reasonable heels although not too high.
After she had dressed up and put away make-up and brush in her beauty-case, she exited the bathroom and threw the bathrobe to Ruby.
«Oh, sweetheart, if I liked women, I'd jump your bones. Yum,» Ruby snickered, folding the bathrobe and putting it in the suitcase.
Emma rolled her eyes, wondering for the umpteenth time what would she do without Ruby. Trying not to think too much about it, she pulled her hair up in a ponytail, knowing that she'd untie it once she'd got on the plane.
Her stomach knotted at the thought. She hadn't ever flown before, least of all in first class. It was obvious that her husband was rich since he could afford her, and a way to buy her favours was offering her all the comforts one could think about. Well, this applied to every other girl. In her opinion, she could easily fly in the hold – or not fly at all.
They were closing the suitcases when someone knocked on the door and Emma stiffened, her breath caught in her throat. A glance at the clock confirmed that it was already five and a half, it was already time to go, to leave the place that wasn't her home, because it wasn't anything more than a prison even though it was the place where she had met Ruby, her real home.
It was Ruby who opened the door, Emma still had her hand clenched in fists. On the doorstep there was Madame Mills and, behind her, two of her lackeys with shoulders as broad as a gorilla.
Cora's little eyes examined Emma from head to toe and a smile creased her thin lips. «Good, I see you're ready. Come on, the car is waiting for you, do not dawdle.»
A hand squeezed her harm. Looking down, she saw Ruby's red polished nails pressing gently into her skin, shaking her from her stiffness.
As if she was pushed by an invisible force, Emma grabbed the tote she would use as hand luggage with all her documents and the two folders with the all the information about her new life in it. With a suitcase each, Emma and Ruby stepped out in the desert hallway, stopping before the satisfied figure of Madame Mills.
«My dear, dear Emma, you don't know how happy I am that you've been offered this opportunity. May the future hold for you a happy and rosy fate,» she said sincerely, and that surprised Emma a lot. The girl brushed away that feeling and reluctantly accepted the woman's kisses on her cheeks.
Emma and Ruby, hand in hand, followed the two men, twins with a strong southern accent, to the entrance and then outside, where the chaos of New York was the perfect soundtrack for those last hours in a city she hadn't had the occasion to visit due to her partial freedom. A part of her wished she could have a few occasions to visit Dublin, at least that city, but she wouldn't dare give herself false hopes.
The twins loaded Emma's suitcases in the trunk while the two girls settled silently in the black leather Lexus' back seats. They didn't trust speaking in front of Madame's lackeys, everything they heard or saw reached her, and there were things it was better to keep to themselves.
Neither of them was looking at the life flowing outside the tinted windows, too absorbed in their own thoughts to notice anything else while they were heading towards JFK International Airport.
«Take the warm nuts.»
«Uh?» Emma asked, rousing from her thoughts, looking up towards Ruby.
«Warm nuts,» the other replied, forcing a smile, she was trying to keep the situation light for the sake of them both. «You know, it's a cliché, all those who fly first class or on private jets must eat warm nuts.»
Despite everything, Emma smiled. «Rubes, it'll be the first time I ever step on a plane, I don't even know if I'll be able to keep down what I ate today at lunch, I won't think about the meals they'll give me,» she replied with a soft laugh. «I promise you I'll cross this cliché off the list and take those nuts if I won't puke out my guts.»
«Good,» said Ruby, almost satisfied. «I should add some cocktails, but I assume you'd want to arrive sober in Dublin. Of course, being a little tipsy would help you, but I presume you'd want to spare the alcohol for the wedding nig… Ouch!»
With a hiss, Emma had given her a not so light thwack on her leg. She didn't want to think about Dublin, let alone that. But Ruby was right, she would definitely need alcohol.
They stayed silent for the rest of the trip, fingers firmly intertwined as if they wouldn't ever want to be separated. Unfortunately, reality had very different plans for them. Although she didn't want – couldn't – allow herself to hope, Emma asked herself if her husband would let her go to New York to visit Ruby if she stayed with Madame or wherever she would be if the same fate awaited her.
It was a possibility, even if slight, that she could see her again in person, without miles or monitors between them.
She was still thinking about that faint hope when the car stopped and she came abruptly back to reality, her legs suddenly weak and her heart pounding with fear. Ruby tugged lightly on her hand, spurring her to follow her out of the car.
No one seemed to notice them, no one knew in what kind of hell they lived, no one would even look at them, except for some men who let their gazes roam over their curves, emphasizing that they were perfect for the kind of life they led.
Lackey One handed out the suitcases to Emma and Ruby took one, she wasn't ready to let her go. Hand in hand, the two entered the crowded airport, Emma's fingers wrapped so tightly around the trolley's handle that her knuckles were white. Every step she took, the distance between herself and the check-in desk narrowed and her breaths became shorter and quicker.
«Calm down, Emma,» Ruby whispered to her squeezing her hand. «Remember what Madame always says, breathe in through your nose and breathe out through your mouth.»
Emma kept herself from rolling her eyes while she followed Ruby's orders, of course she noticed her uneasiness – or maybe it was the sweaty palms that gave her away? – but she knew she was right, neither of them were unused to panic attacks.
Soon, too soon, the four of them stopped before the line for the check-in, a clear sign that Emma had to give the last goodbye to Ruby. Turning towards her, she saw her green eyes full of tears. Forcing herself to smile, Emma hugged Ruby tightly, breathing in her scent of cherries and liquorice she always left behind.
Ruby hugged her back with the same strength as if she was trying to keep her here. Saying goodbye to her at the airport was almost a luxury, even though it was also true that she and Emma were the only ones to have some kind of relationship that exceeded a mere acquaintance.
«I'll miss you so much,» Emma whispered resting her chin on her shoulder. «I'll call you as soon as possible.» As soon as I'm allowed to, this was what she wanted to say, but she knew Ruby would understand.
«Skype and FaceTime will be our friends, hearing your voice won't be enough,» Ruby replied. I need to see that you're okay, I need to know that he doesn't beat you, this was what she really meant, what Emma understood. «Not a day will go by that I won't think about you.»
Emma's heart filled with grief as she nodded. «Me too, me too.»
Pulling away from Emma, Ruby took a chain off her neck, a glass wolf with a hint of red on the inside that shone in the sun hanging from it. It was the only memory Ruby had left from her family, just like Emma's swan necklace. She had never taken it off, as if it was part of her, and Emma understood that it meant taking a piece of Ruby with her.
Without saying a word, Ruby slid the chain over Emma's head, adjusting her hair. The wolf dangled slightly, settling on Emma's cleavage beneath the other necklace.
Biting her lip to keep herself from trembling, Emma unhooked the necklace with the swan and placed it around Ruby's neck. The two completed each other, they were each other's anchor, and maybe it was because they had lived the same experience, but they were both sure that, even if they would not have fallen for Madame Mills' trick, they would have found each other and would have been best friends.
«I love you, Rubes,» Emma murmured pulling her in for a last, long hug.
«I love you, Ems,» Ruby replied trying to impress every detail of her best friend, of her sister, in her mind.
When Lackey Two cleared his throat, gently implying that the time at their disposal had ran out, Emma pulled away from Ruby with a threatening glare. «Don't you dare put your filthy hands on her, because I'll know if you do, and the same applies to Madame, too.»
Lackey Two seemed outraged by that accusation, but it was very well known that some of Madame's men liked to get a little handsy. Thankfully, Madame didn't like that at all.
After shooting an icy glare to Lackey One, Emma pulled out the ticket and the passport from the bag, breathing in deeply trying to stop the shivers that were running down her spine.
She smiled at Ruby one last time, she couldn't handle a last hug, and, grabbing both suitcases, she went to stand in line for the check-in.
Lackey One would escort her inside, waiting for her to board and depart to prevent her from talking to someone. The girls knew better than talk about their situation to strangers that weren't their clients, who had tried wasn't around to throw such accusations anymore.
Not feeling Ruby's eyes on herself anymore, Emma kept herself from crying by biting down hard on her lower lip, cutting it open and tasting blood while inside her chest her heart shattered in tiny shards of ice.