Chapter One

Time stood still, as it had for what felt like decades. The only indication of passing time beyond the padded walls that contained her was when the darkness slowly overcame the small space in which she sat, huddled on a hard, raised, bench. When it approaches, the night offers nothing but a reminder of the solitude she is forced to dwell in for an indefinite period of time. At least when the sun's light peeks its way through the chained window it brings hope; it reminds her that there is life outside her prison and that one day she just may get an opportunity to see it with her own eyes. The darkness removes any trace of this hope. If she is fortunate, some nights a faint glow of the moon will find its way through, illuminating the dull strands of her chestnut hair.

However, being trapped in the cell was not the worst the part. For her, not knowing why she was there made it all the more agonizing to endure. As far back as she can remember, she has been confined to this room, only leaving for trips to the restroom, with an escort of course, and the occasional moments when the head nurse, Mildred, was not around. The custodian, Chief (a nickname given to him by the other guards) lets her out to roam the halls for a few minutes whenever Mildred would go on break, which was not often. This allowed her to feel some short breath of freedom while she fantasized about running out the door into the sunlight, taking in the world around her. But she would never take advantage of Chief's kindness. She had expressed to him on numerous occasions that he didn't have to do this for her; that he would most likely lose his job if he was to get caught, but he didn't care. Chief was the only person she knew who took sympathy on her, the only person she had any interaction with, even if it was only short salutations once or twice a week.

Anyone who didn't know Chief would assume he was dangerous, perhaps insane or psychologically disturbed in some way, based solely off his appearance. His long black hair draped over half his pale face, revealing a scar that makes its way from the top of his forehead down to his ear. His dark, sunken eyes would be enough alone to deter anyone from trying to get to know him. But this was all a charade, a way to protect himself from others. Behind his brooding demeanor was a man who is misunderstood. A man who hates his job but does it well regardless. A man who helps a young girl grasp some sense of liberty any chance he gets. He is a hero, at least in her eyes.

She rested her head against her knees, as was typical behavior whenever the sun went down. If there was no light in the cell, she might as well keep her eyes closed. The medicine that she had been administered that afternoon was wearing off. She wasn't sure what it was for exactly; she had asked several times to no avail. Chief had tried to sneak a glance at the bottles the pills came in but he was never able to get close enough. If only she could know what was wrong with her. Why she was here. All she could go off of was that the medicine made her feel lightheaded but at its peak, really calm. It helped at times like these when she began to feel anxious and trapped. Taking deep breaths, she tried to imagine what was outside of this room, outside of this cage.

Maybe she was crazy, maybe she should be in here, these thoughts had been occurring a lot recently, ever since her most recent session with Dr. Hopper, the psychologist that paid a visit to her cell once a week for some one on one "psychoanalysis". Really it was him making sure he followed all of the town's regulations for patients in the psych ward. A session is required by law at least once a week. But to call it a session would be an overstatement.

It happened quite suddenly, this realization, ten minutes before her session began when Mildred came in to administer her pills for the day. As usual, the head nurse was silent, serious, and not someone you wanted to irritate. With her was a guard for her protection, in case the girl decided to attack or try to escape. While sorting through her pills, Mildred had noticed she forgot to bring in one of the medications. She sighed deeply, turning to the guard, "Get this medicine," she pointed to a name on the clipboard. "It's in the back room. Make sure to get the one labeled with a red sticker," she then turned to the girl, huddled in the corner. "The patient can't start her day without it." Her mouth twitched slightly into a small smile and then it was gone. The girl looked away, hiding her face with her hair.

After the guard came back and the medicine was administered, the pair left, once again leaving her to her thoughts. Something about what had just happened unnerved her and it wasn't the nurse's unnatural smile. She noticed something when the nurse addressed her; something that the more she thought about, the more she realized that this wasn't the first time. She was never called by a name.

What was her name? She rummaged through memories of her encounters over the years and no one has ever said her name. No one. This made no sense, why couldn't she remember her name? Sure her recollections of a life prior to being in this cell were gone, but someone had to know. She must have a name, everyone does. The more she thought about it the more frustrated she got. All this time she was referred to as she or "the patient". Not even Dr. Hopper said her name. Was this all a part of their plan? Did they not want her to have an identity? Did they think it made it easier for her to accept her fate is she felt like she didn't exist? These questions stuck with her as Dr. Hopper took a seat beside her that day for their session.

"How are you feeling?"

She took a second to answer for once. Instead of giving the same response she did at every session prior to this, she decided to take command of the conversation.

"What's my name?"

He looked up from his notepad, a combination of shock and uncertainty fixed on his face. His eyes, which typically conveyed such assurance and wisdom, were now wide with bewilderment. He took a few moments to collect his composure, cleared his throat, and then answered, "What…what is your name?" He inquired. Hopeful that he had misunderstood.

She nodded.

A few more seconds passed and he finally figured out how to sidestep answering the question himself, "Well…what do you think your name is?"

There was a long silence as she stared at him in disbelief. She couldn't understand why no one could give her a straight answer.

"I…I don't know that's why I'm asking you. Please doctor if you know just tell me. I feel…I feel so lost."

She noticed for the first time that what she was saying seemed to really be affecting him. His eyes got the same look in them that Chief had whenever they saw how unhappy she was. They were that of a concerned parent or a worried friend.

He nodded and then sat back against the padded walls.

He didn't speak for a while so she took the opportunity to speak again. "I don't know why I am here. Am I dangerous?"

Still, he didn't answer, but just closed his eyes as if in deep thought.

"I want to leave. I need to get out of here. I…I can't take it any more…" She began to pound the back of her head against the cell wall in frustration. Tears were surfacing, but she couldn't let them break her. She was stronger than that.

"I know." That was all he said. She looked over at him, hoping that maybe he was starting to really listen to her. Up till now their sessions had been insignificant in every way. He asked her the same simple yet exasperating questions every meeting and she would always give the same short, detached answers. It had never felt like he was listening. But this time was different. So different that she was tempted to ask him a question that had been burning inside her; a question that she would never even ask Chief, for fear of what he knew and how he would respond.

Dr. Hopper looked over at the girl, her hair long and frayed, yet strangely enough with its beauty still intact; her tired, blue eyes staring anxiously into his, her pale skin, luminescent in the dim room. He wanted to help her. He wanted to tell her what he knew, but truthfully, it wasn't much. If anything he wanted to get some answers from her. Yet, he consciously kept reminding himself of the consequences that would follow if he got involved. If instead of continuing with the directions he was ordered to obey, he actually did his job. If only he could figure out what was really wrong with her…

"Why do you think you are here?" This was a question he had always avoided asking, although he has been tempted in the past. He wasn't supposed to speculate on her "problem". But this time was different. This time he wanted to know, he needed to.

She wanted to do it. She wanted to say it. If she was ever going to ask, now was the time.

"I'm here because of her."

Dr. Hopper's eyes tightened a bit.

"Her? Her who?"

As the girl continued to stare at him, Doctor Hopper's expression slowly began to suggest he knew exactly to whom she was referring to. But he didn't want to admit it.

After a minute, she continued,

"The woman. The woman with the dark eyes and short black hair. She comes by every now and then, peering through that porthole over there. Her face it's…it's hauntingly beautiful but so…so…"

The doctor was now staring off across the room as he finished her sentence…"evil."

"Yes! Evil, precisely. You know her then?"

"She…She's the mayor. Her name is Regina."

"The mayor? But why would the mayor want to lock me up? Why is she keeping me here…"

"You don't know that the mayor has anything to do with…"

"Of course she does! Dr. Hopper please believe me when I tell you this, I know it's her! Why else would the mayor pay me random visits? Does she do this with the other patients?"

"Well. I don't know. But it just doesn't make any sense…"

"Exactly. There's a reason she wants me in here. I have to find out what it is. I need your help."

Doctor Hopper starred down at his lap, unmistakably torn over what to do.

She placed her cold hand on his shoulder, "Please. What do you know?"

He looked at her, a moment of consideration flashing in his eyes, but then it was gone and he stood up, flustered as he gathered his things.

"Alright well I will see you next week…."

"But doctor…"

He paused and looked over at her pleading face, "I'm…I'm sorry. I have another appointment. I…I must go."

And just like that he was gone, leaving her feeling helpless, yet a bit optimistic. Clearly they had broken some boundaries that had never been crossed and that meant next week could be even better.

The memory of that session had stayed with her throughout the week. She wanted to stay hopeful that she was getting closer to finding out the truth. But it got harder as the days and nights wore on. If she wasn't crazy when she came into this place, she sure was close to becoming it now. So much time in this prison was enough to make anyone mad.

Suddenly there was a loud noise. The sound of harsh voices made its way into her cell. She stood up, making her way towards the door, which wasn't difficult since her eyes could now easily adjust to the darkness. Pressing her ear on her door, she listened. The voices were getting closer and closer. An argument was happening. A man's voice, pleading and desperate, was yelling about how he would kill someone, a woman. Eventually, she was able to make out full sentences:

"I'll kill her! She thinks she can do this to me again!" There was a brief pause where a struggle could be heard, this man against the guards she assumed.

"I'm not mad! I am not mad! She's the crazy one. She's got all of you fooled! Regina!" He yelled her name so loudly and with so much hatred, it sent the girl stumbling back. Regina. That name, Regina. She's the mayor.

Suddenly the man broke out into wild fits of deranged laughter. The door to the cell next door opened and then slammed shut. But the laughter could still be heard, as if he was standing right next to her. Why was it so loud? How could she hear it so clearly through these walls?

She pressed her ears up against the wall connecting to his cell. It took her a minute to realize that the left side of the room's wall was thicker than the right side. As the laughter continued, it got louder as she made her way towards the window. Curious as to why this was, she knocked gently on the part of the wall closest to the window. The laughter stopped.

She held her breath listening closely to any noise on the other side. It was as if he had suddenly passed out. It was silent.

"Who's there?" Came a voice from the other side unexpectedly. She jumped back, her heart racing. After a minute she caught her breath and placed her head back against the wall.

"Hello?" She said back.

"Who are you?"

She wasn't sure how to answer. She didn't have a name.

"Um. Hi. I'm…I'm a patient here." It wasn't the brightest answer but it was the best she could think of.

"What's your name?"

"My…my name?"

"Yes your name? The name given to you when you were born. What people call you?"

"I…I don't have a name."

There was silence. She thought perhaps he had gotten tired of speaking to her, or thought that someone who didn't even have a name wasn't worth his time. She slowly moved back towards the bench. It was a bit disheartening. The one chance she has of getting to know someone new. To find someone to talk to, and she ruined it. But it probably was for the best, he did seem a tad deranged.

Then, without warning, came a combination of strange, unexplainable noises. She stared at the wall and watched as it suddenly started to move. It was a door.

How could she not know this before? It swung open and standing there was tall, lean man in all black attire with a top hat sitting on his head. He was young, handsome, but there was something about him that made him look like he belonged here. An unhinged gleam in his eyes that caught the girl off guard. She stood up slowly, perplexed at what had just happened. Could this be a dream?

He stepped forward, tilting his head a little to the left as he looked her up and down. She quickly noted the scar that ran along the side of his neck, but she didn't want to get caught staring. Instead she looked at the floor.

"You don't have a name?" He asked, raising his eyebrow. She shook her head.

"I have trouble believing that. Everyone has a name. Should she speak or let him continue the conversation? She braved to look back up at him, and then she couldn't look away.. There was something about him that had her entranced. It was as if he just came from a whole different world. Or perhaps it was his mystifying entrance, or his strange attire.

He held out his hand to her, "My name is Jefferson."

Hi everyone! Just wanted to thank you for reading! I have really awesome ideas for this story and it will only get better! There will be more action and dialogue in the other chapters but I felt like I had to really introduce a lot of the background stuff in this chapter. Oh and Rumpelstiltskin will be a part of this story so don't worry! Please keep reading and comment! Thank you!