A/N PLEASE READ!
This story is completely centred around self harm. I do not want to trigger anyone so please do not read if you are at risk. I've literally just finished writing this a few minutes ago as a form of therapy for myself.
If you've read the warning and are still choosing to read then I'm sorry for any mistakes, it hasn't been beta'd or edited in any way. If you want to discuss anything as a result of this fic, PM on here or find me on twitter (I'm under the same name over there).
The first time Regina did it was when she was 14. She cut open her lip with her father's razor in a vain attempt to sever herself from the fate her mother seemed to have set out for her. She didn't want to be a "beauty" or "perfect queen material", she just wanted to be free. When her mother found out, pain followed as usual, but this time it wasn't her pain. No, instead Cora chose to punish those Regina loved most. The few people she had in her life that she cared for paid for her mistake but rather than stop, she simply learned to do it in places her mother would never see. It quieted the demons in her mind and that was something she couldn't give up.
The King first saw the wounds, both old silvery streaks and red flaming lines, on their wedding night. The revulsion was clear on his face but before long his eyes had slipped closed as he lost himself in the fantasy of his first wife. He never uttered a word about them except to warn her of the consequences should anyone at Court ever find out. She agreed knowing there was never much risk of that because from then on, she was forced to wear long sleeves to cover the finger shaped bruises that covered her arms and wrists anyway.
By the time she was the Evil Queen, she was a master at glamour spells. No one except her could see the marks that littered her body. The men and women she took to bed wouldn't have dared comment even if they had seen them, but she didn't want any rumours to slip out. She'd witnessed whole kingdoms come crashing down because of less and that was something she couldn't risk. She needed her power.
For 28 years Graham saw the scars but never consciously noticed them. It was how she'd designed him to be in this world; clueless and obedient. She was reckless with herself. She didn't need to be careful, even if someone broke through the fog long enough to notice, they'd forget again by morning. She was the only one who didn't reset. She was the only one able to wake up with fresh scars.
But then came Henry and she knew she had to improve. She didn't stop but she was more careful. She learnt how to do it safely so she didn't risk getting sick from infection, she learnt how to hide old marks with carefully applied make up and she learnt how not to show her discomfort when a small fist or knee would unknowingly crash straight into her tender, still healing skin.
The moment Emma Swan rolled into town in her yellow car and red jacket, she knew it was the end. The thing that kept her from completely falling apart could be the very thing that allowed her enemy to take away her son. She knew the risks of continuing but after nearly fifty years and a lifetime of hurt, she knew she couldn't stop.
That was how she ended up sat on the floor of her office, surrounded by her kit of blades, bandages, antiseptic wipes and all other sorts of paraphernalia, with Emma standing over her trying to take it all in. She knew she'd locked the door before she'd started but that had never stopped the blonde. She could pretend to be angry at the rude breach of privacy but instead she just sighed. They may be friends now but that wouldn't matter, her secret was out and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.
"Why?" She couldn't help but flinch slightly at Emma's voice, despite the soft tone. It took her a moment to process her question.
"Why what?" God, she sounded pathetic, even to her own ears.
She saw Emma swallow thickly and release a deep breath. Pale fingers rubbed absentmindedly against jean-clad thighs as she formulated a response.
"Why do you do it?" Emma finally said, her voice still calm and gentle. It sounded almost caring.
After a few moments of silence, Emma continued, perhaps having realised she'd never get an answer otherwise.
"Everyone has a reason and despite what a lot of people think, not everyone's is the same."
Regina's eyes were glued to the floor, as she tossed the words around in her mind, still unable to actually speak. Or move. She really needed to start bandaging herself up before she lost more blood.
As if reading her mind, Emma's hand reached for the wipes and the bandages and methodically began cleaning her up as she continued to speak. "For me it was to feel something. I was always so numb y'know? Those moments of pain made me feel alive. It probably sounds really clichéd but it's true."
Regina couldn't keep the shock from her face. Her mask had slipped off the moment Emma had entered the room and now it lay shattered at her feet. Did Emma really just admit to...
"Not feeling has never been my problem." Her traitorous mouth formed the words before her brain could stop them.
Emma didn't even pause in what she was doing. One by one her cuts were taken care of with a practised hand.
"Yeah that makes sense," Emma whispered, "mom's always saying you feel things to deeply."
Regina didn't have a response to that. Instead she watched Emma's hands work, strangely fascinated by the feather light touches against her skin.
"Once you know why you do it you can start working towards stopping." Emma, having finally bandaged the last wound, rolled Graham's shoelace further up her arm and revealed an elastic band sitting loosely underneath. "I needed to find another way to feel something. When I get tempted I snap the elastic band against my skin and it hurts without leaving any lasting damage. It helps. Not always of course, but it still helps."
Regina lifted a trembling hand and ran her fingertips over the elastic. She couldn't understand how something so ordinary and commonplace could ever actually help but she knew Emma wasn't lying to her.
"Your reason is different to mine though, Regina. This won't help you."
And with those words, Regina's arm dropped back to her side and her tears finally began to fall. For a brief moment she thought she was receiving acceptance, understanding and maybe a tiny glimmer of hope. Yet even someone who'd been through it themselves knew she was past saving. An arm carefully wrapped round her shoulder and she was pulled into the side of the so-called Savior. Her sobs only grew louder.
"That doesn't mean nothing will help you. I'm sorry, you know how bad I am with words." A self-depreciating laugh slipped from the blonde's lips as she spoke. "I'm going to help you find what works for you, Regina. I promise."
With a child-like innocence she thought had long since died in her, she looked up at the woman she was curled in to. "What there isn't anything?"
Emma dropped a gentle kiss to her forehead and smiled. "There is. We just have to find it and until then I'll be here to bandage you up."