3 years ago, it was 2am and I'm underage in the middle of two stripes, the most run down and pathetic night club in the whole of town. This deserted and lonely town.

StoryBrooke wasn't at all what it sounded, like a made up fantasy town it definitely wasn't. Actually quite the opposite, the mayor was a misunderstood bitch and the land owner had a walking stick that I'm sure he thought was a Nanny Mcphee replica. Maybe without the people the town could have been beautiful.

So... back to the club, I caught this guy following me with his eyes, compelling eyes; dark and almost broken. It was as if the music had become background, really faint. I could hear the pulse in my head quickening as he walked over. Still keeping that consistency of eye contact, he only said "hi" and I was doubling over. The thing with nightclubs is that after a few drinks you think you're in love with everyone, right? I did. I do.

We talked... or, he talked and I stuttered. He got my number and walked away, like it was nothing. He knew what he wanted and he was taking it.

As cliched as the night could have gone, it did, but even more so in the morning when I woke up to a "hey stranger"text message, so as the irony set in, I asked for his name and vice versa, as it goes he calls himself 'hook' – maybe a little more of a fairy tale than town than I thought. I introduced myself as 'Emma', just Emma. I figured with the least amount of information given, I could remain private for as long as I deemed possible.

I always found it quite important to be as private as I could, growing up with a drug infused mother wasn't particularly the easiest to explain. People assumed that if you've grown up knowing about drugs and their effects that you're automatically going to be the same, that I was going to be the same. Now I'm 20 I'm older enough to escape the grasps of that retched woman and live my life the way I've always wanted. My dad was great, for the most part. Mainly the mature part. Dad was equally hateful towards my sorry excuse of a mum and didn't have much patience in the waiting around for her to decide when he was allowed to see me and when she wanted money or 'a break' from me and Neal.

Being such a young age it wasn't easy not having a supportive dad, he wouldn't fight our battles with the social workers, he had his other family and that was enough for him. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's an amazing dad, a great man. Maybe I just felt alone and needed him to notice, believe the bruises were not just accidents. I used to imagine that Snow (the not so wicked witchy step mum) and Henry, (the tiny dweeby brother) along with Dad were little aliens, and that after they'd had me and Neal on the weekends that they'd just beam back up to space, that's why we'd not hear from them during the week and never see them driving around. It made perfect sense in my little messed up way.

My mum had another two children after me and Neal, August and Grettle. They didn't have the 'supportive' dad, or mum for that matter and so my maternal instincts kicked in and I provided the best I could, I cooked, I cleaned – them and the tiny little flat. It was my normality. School was then my escape, I tried to keep my grades, I always had this sense of achievement and always wanted approval. It was weird, I always knew there was one person at least that was proud of me. My nan. What an incredible woman, she took me when it was too much, made me chips and gravy, spoke to me as a person, treated me like a mother should and loved me through all of my teenage faults. She was everything I wanted to be in a person, kind, happy and thoughtful. It made me motivated. She got me motivated. I got all the nice things I have today because of my childhood drama, I suppose I wasn't so unlucky after all.

Hook and I really hit it off, we met for the first real time, we sat on a bench in a big grassy park and it was really great. He had just come from the pub and so had that dutch courage to talk so freely. We walked to the shops and I left my ever so awkward first impression; "would you like to meet my friend George?" I then pushed him into a bush. "George Bush". Oops. But he laughed, it was great. I really felt like this could have been a massive first thing for me, maybe someone I wouldn't have to keep proving myself too.

The relationship was going great, being 17 and naïve I was happy, Hook was all I ever wanted. He was loving, caring, he just wanted me. He'd would always have a few to drink but it was fine...in the beginning. It was his 19th birthday when I should have first seen the effects of his relentless drinking, I was cooking him a meal, steak and chips, his favourite. He wanted a drink so celebrate his birthday with his best friend, so he went out whilst I stayed and cooked, he rocked home 6 hours later, too drunk and angry his food was cold. He was pushy, aggressive. I'd never seen this side of him before, I wasn't scared, not of my sweet and loving Hook. Just concerned.

The next morning it was as if nothing had happened, he apologised for being loud and angry and that was it. He was perfect, again.

September 6th 2014 – It was nearly 3AM, hook was calling my phone like a crazy man, I was in bed and sleeping. Annoyed as I answered, he was panting down the phone, out of breath like he was just running, I panicked and bolted up right, he wouldn't tell me what was going on, just that he's near my house and he'd explain when he's here. Of course I told him to piss off, I couldn't let him in my house and 3AM with my Dad and Snow being asleep. He just kept repeating that he was sorry,

"Em, please you need to listen carefully, I'm so sorry, I just, your..." , I was getting angrier as he spoke, what had he done that couldn't wait until the morning, if he's in police trouble or he's cheated I'd rather not know. Not right now.

"She's gone, I'm so sorry Em, your Nan...she's gone".

I stopped. I cried... more of a tortured quiet scream, I stumbled to the bathroom, I was confused. At this point I had put the phone down, I could hear the constant buzzing of Hook still calling. It was ignored, he was wrong.

I was still stumbling, outside of my parents room, too scared to go inside. It was rude to wake them. But I did, I went inside and called out for Snow, not even my dad. I just cried at her, dad woke up and turned on the lights, I sobbed through telling her what had happened.

"My Nan, Granny is dead, she's gone".