Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me.
Trigger Warning: Rape

The words on the page become a blur as colorless pearls began to fall, pushing the ink to run its course like a stream. I shut my red rimmed eyes tightly attempting to prevent the gears of my imagination from reliving painful memories of long time past which had been locked away. My emotional state was now paying the price. The person I once was, the monster, who had lain dormant 'til now was now very much alive. As my chocolate eyes open and stare at the gaunt reflection in the mirror, a high-pitched howl rips itself from inside my torso and out into the open air of my room. Glass shatters. My patellae bruise as I plummet to the wooden floors knee first. Convulsions conquer my body. Then, finally tranquility settles. Black lifeless eyes pierce through the miniscule particles floating in space. Into the portals of time, my withered soul is snatched; forever lost in the paradox of remembrance…

Three hours. Three hours since I let my temper get the best of me and violently crushed Henry's forearm with my death dealing grip. I will admit that it was quite cruel of me to do so especially since it is only eight years of age. The euphoria I felt when I stared at its cowering form in the corner overrode any speck of humanity remaining within me. The adrenaline rush I received from it contained more flavors than the bloody colors of a rainbow. It was far better than losing myself to a brief state of unconsciousness after having the life strangled out of me.

It reminded me so much of myself when I was its age – censored from the evil of the world and left to survive on innocence alone.

I recall the feeling of unadulterated fear consuming me as events from my childhood flashed before my very own eyes; the ones which sculpted me into the monster I was then and now.

It was a warm day with a slightly cool breeze travelling in our direction. The elegant dance of the tall grass had me mesmerized but not like Emma had me. Her long silky blonde curls would bounce in a carefree manner as she ran after the ball I tossed too far and her mirthful laughter would ring across the field and reach my ears in a honeyed sequence. The yellow flecks in her emerald green eyes would convey her happiness in being there with me. I was too young and naïve to understand what I was feeling then: the erratic heartbeat when she smiled at me, the fluttering in my stomach when she touched me in any way, the helpless daze I found myself in whenever she was there. I felt complete and at peace.

Little did I know that those older and wiser than us had been observing our every movement like hawks; the ones waiting to strike when the opportune time arose. As I'd matured, I began to comprehend precisely what it was that I had been feeling towards my best friend – love of a romantic kind. Mother knew and she decided to straighten me out. I have abhorred her very being since; such white-hot hatred eventually destroyed me.

Mother came into my room today reeking of the power she exuded after practicing magic. I was sitting on my bed, reading, when she approached me predatorily, her eyes as dark as night. For the first time in my life, I was petrified. I had every reason to be.

When I was younger, she would beat me into submission with displays of her magic, tossing him through the air as though he weighed nothing and choking him with plan stems that obeyed her every command. I would fight. Kicking, biting, slapping, and punching. I would roar out obscenities directed towards her and my Father for not fighting for his "little girl". It did not matter. I could do nothing. I was helpless. I eventually did nothing as a part of me died with every single punishment given me. Nobody mourned those pieces, only me.

Mother knocked my tome away from my hands and growled menacingly. I felt my heart stop when she uttered her next words.

"You and Emma are filthy creatures."

I could say nothing. I could do nothing. I did nothing. Not even when she yanked on my hair, threw me on the floor, and pressed my head into the cold stone floor. Not when the fibers of a magical rope cut into my wrists as they wound my hands behind my back. Not when I felt my body ignite on fire as Mother viciously thrust into my entrance and rode me like the true animal that she was. I only cried out when she ran a slender finger up the length of my womanhood and made an abrupt slicing motion, effectively slicing off the ball of sensitive nerves situated above the lips of my bleeding flower. She spat on me after carving the word 'Redemption' on my stomach, chest, and back. Yet, even as my acerbic tears flowed out of their own will, I still did nothing.

I think those tears had a heart and mind of their own. They felt what I couldn't feel – what I no longer felt – the sorrow and the rage. They expressed what I could not or refused feel by escaping through my eyes and flowing down my face like the river Nile, just like they are doing now.

It has been a week since I gave birth to Henry, the product of my forceful deflowering. Leave it to magic to impregnate me. It has the bitch's eyes. I cannot look at it or even care for it. It is a reminder of what I can never have: to live contently with the one I truly love and have a child that is not a result of a heinous act. I want to punish it for pushing its way into the world unwanted. It will be punished. I vow it.

I had only been fifteen when I gave birth to Henry. It was difficult for me to refer to him as anything but "it". I only began doing so after the death of the bitch, the coward, and the Devil's spawn.

I lost control upon seeing that monster play with Henry; it set me alight. I had no knowledge of what I was doing until the alien emotion which had consumed me had subsided. I have no recollection of what had happened. All I know was that the haze enshrouding me had lifted and my eyes had opened to see the dead mutilated bodies of the boy and my parents.

I remember. Rumpelstiltskin had been secretly grooming me, teaching me the way of magic the way he taught Mother. The rage that been steadily growing finally reached an exploding point. With my fingers, I made slicing motions – the same motion that removed a part of me – and went on a murderous rampage, crossing any living creature which got in my way of ending the existence of that bitch and her byproduct. I remember the cries that pierced the air, the chaos, the adrenaline… I was unstoppable. I was driven by something I did not know I was capable of feeling. Love. It was out of that, that I ended their miserable useless lives. They were only a waste of space and air particularly the boy. He was undesired and he always would have been. All of them would have been. They still are.

In my mind, it was not wrong to claim those lives. For years on end, I did nothing. I did nothing when deep wounds and dark purple bruises were inflicted on me. I did nothing when something I had held so precious had been ferociously stolen from me. I did nothing to the fetus that had grown inside me for nine months, knowing that it was going to be an abomination just like the monster that impregnated me through an odious crime and a pinch of magic. But I finally did do something. I avenged myself. I avenged the future that was taken from me, the future that should have been filled with joy and laughter with Emma and our children.

Now as the darkness eventually sucks me in, I let my lips shape into a smile. With that smile was a feeling of peace. I was at peace, finally. My eyes shut and my breathing slows. Just as I felt Hades' cold hand make its way to my heart, plunging and twisting with a cruel vengeance, I whisper something to the spirits of those whose lives I'd taken.

"Checkmate."

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