Prompt #37. Regina and Robin covering up a murder.

Shivering against the hood of the car, Regina stares blankly ahead. Her hands tremble in her lap and her teeth bite into her bottom lip so hard she's sure it'll draw blood.

It's a still night. The moon is waning and the sky is dark. The only light available comes from the headlights of her BMW as they glare through the forest trees. It's silent. She hasn't heard the call of a bird or the hum of a cricket since they'd pulled up but that might just be nerves. It's hard to focus on anything besides Robin and the sound of his shovel crunching into the hard dirt.

She gulps as she watches him plow into the ground, tossing pile after pile of dirt over his shoulder. It's been almost an hour and he's barely made it two feet deep. Not nearly far enough. She wishes he could go faster. That they could do what they came to do and just be done with it. But they can't leave yet. Two feet isn't deep enough. And they can't afford to skimp. Not with this.

His shovel crunches into the dirt again and she trembles. Every time it cuts the ground, she remembers the knife that dug into her husband's flesh. How it'd sunk into his skin. How the blood had seeped, warm and red through his shirt and onto hers. She can still hear his screams with pile of dirt Robin moves.

Crunch, slice. Crunch, slice.

She'd done it over and over. Once she'd started it was like she hadn't been able to stop. She'd wanted him to die. She'd wanted to be the one to do it. She'd wanted him scared, like he'd made her scared for so many years. She'd wanted him to scream, to beg her to stop just like she'd beg him… over and over.

It plays in her head over and over, like a loop. Her screams and his screams. The pounding of his fist against the door, the crunch of his foot against her ribs. The way Robin had cried out for her. And of course, the grotesque sound of the knife slicing through his flesh over and over.

It would never leave her head.

"Regina…"

Finally she sees. She returns to the present and finds herself staring into the ocean blue eyes. The ones that made her heart beat, the ones she'd risked everything for. She stares into them and she breaks.

Whimpering, "He wasn't supposed to come home…"

"I know…"

"He wasn't supposed to be there," she cries, tears running down her face.

This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to come home. She wasn't supposed to do this. To be this.

His hand reaches out to caress her cheek. She stares into his blue and sees that he's scared. It's her fault. She'd dragged him into this. She should've known better. This was no one's fault but her own.

"What am I going to do?" she whispers.

"Regina…"

"I'm a… murderer."

She speaks the words so softly, yet they seem to echo through the woods. "I'm a murderer Robin," she cries. "I murdered my husband."

"No," he whispers, firm and harsh. "You are not a murderer."

Tears fall from her chin as she softly shakes her head. "Leopold…"

"Is gone," he says, firmly nodding his head. "He's gone and he's never going to hurt you again."

"I killed him!" she hisses.

Robin clenches his jaw as he rubs his thumb against her cheek. Shaking his head he whispers, "No you didn't… I did."

She lets out a shuddering breath. "No.."

"I did it," he insists. "I killed him."

She shakes her head at him. He can't. He can't do this for her. He's done enough. He's risked enough. "Robin… you can't. Your son…"

"Will have his mother, his uncles and you," he fiercely whispers. "But your son… what will he have if you're gone?"

She bites her lip so hard she nearly draws blood. She remembers her little boy, so young, so innocent. The only person she cares about more than the man in front of her. If she goes he'll be left with nothing… and she knows it.

"Robin…"

"I killed him." His voice cuts through the air, hard and unwavering. His hands fall to either side of her face, forcing her to look him in the eye. "Say it with me. I came in…"

Her lips tremble as forces herself to repeat "You came in…"

"... I grabbed the knife…"

"... grabbed the knife…"

He swallows before finishing, "And I killed him."

She scrunches her eyes closed, and feels another tear run down her cheek. She can't do this.

"Say it," he orders. "Say it right now, Regina."

Sucking in a cold breath, she opens her eyes and forces herself to do as he says. "You came in, grabbed the knife… and you killed him."

He lets out a short puff of air before nodding his head and demanding, "Again. Say it again. Say… Robin killed my husband."

She cries, shaking her head. It's too hard. She can't do it. He presses his forehead against hers. "You have to do it, love. You have to do it for Henry."

She sobs. Her shoulders shake and her hands tremble but she chokes out, "Robin...killed… my husband."

He forces her to say it over and over. Through the next four feet, during the long drive home. To save her life and her son he makes her repeat it all through the night until she can almost believe it.

Robin killed her husband.

And that's something that no one will ever need to know.

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