Storybrooke, 24th of December 2012
"Henry, hurry up! We're going to be late," Regina yells from down the imposing curved staircase of her perfect household.
There are no answers to her call. She gathers her hands over her chest, holding them protectively against her drumming heart. She starts pacing around the first level of her large residence, trying to repress her growing anxiety.
She groans as she notices a pair of shoes laying in the middle of the living-room. A frown overshadows her features and her lips twist into a bitter purse. She curls her fingers into two purposeful fists and makes a beeline towards the small items, her heels clinking loudly against the wooden floor. She absolutely hates living in disorganized spaces. Chaos makes her nervous. She finds it unnerving, exasperating, and highly oppressive.
Ten years ago, Regina and her husband adopted a little boy. Her son, Henry, is the most precious gift life as ever given to her, but she still gets annoyed at the mess he tends to leave behind him.
"What did I tell you about leaving your shoes in the middle of the way?" She shouts a bit louder than before. As always, her voice echoes through her large mansion but nobody replies.
She rolls her eyes, picking her son's sneakers and moving them inside the spacious closet in the main entrance. She closes it with abrupt force. She's about to turn around and call after Henry again when she feels a warm hand splaying soothingly against her lower back.
"Regina, you're doing it again," Daniel tells his wife in a soft tone of voice. He pulls her against him and cradles her into his arms. "Remember what Archie told you about transfer."
"I'm not transferring my anxiety on our son. I'm just tired of repeating the same thing over and over again," she replies, flinching slightly when her husband pushes a rebellious lock of raven hair behind her ear. "Her never listens to me."
Daniel stares at her with a look of patient understanding that infuriates her. She grits her teeth and clenches her jaw, not unlike a petulant child.
"Regina, he's a kid. We're going to be a little late. He left his shoes in the middle of the entrance, so what? Does it really matter."
The raven haired beauty huffs and purses her lips into a sour expression. Anger swirls into her dark pupils like clouds before a stormy weather. She moves away from her husband's asphyxiating embrace. The patronizing way he speaks to her grates on her nerves.
"One of us has to be a little authoritarian," she answers as she searches through the wardrobe for a black trench coat. She hands it to her husband and swishes her wrist with a regal movement. He recognizes the silent order for what it is and holds the black coat up for her.
Regina slips into it without sparring a glance at her husband.
"You're not just a 'little' authoritarian, Regina. Let the kid breathe a little."
She twist on her feet and glares at him.
"Enough," she snaps, ignoring the dejection she reads in her husband's eyes. "Could you go check on our son and see if he's ready?"
Her eyebrows furrow into a scowl as she watches him walk away. She knows Daniel means well but she hates whenever he brings up her sessions with her psychologist. Unlike her husband, she has a hard time establishing a connexion with her son. Her short temper has been affecting her interactions with Henry for a while now. Following her husband's advice, she has decided to seek the help of a professional in order to build tools that would help her mend their complex relationship. She is aware of her short comings concerning her son. She simply doesn't like being constantly reminded of them.
The thumping of Henry's feet running down the stair announces his arrival. His father is not far behind. The small boy is dressed in the small tailored suit she procured for him a few day prior. Her lips stretch into a pearly white smile when she takes in the small purple tie that matches the colour of her dress. She instinctively reaches for her son. The young child throws a glare at her and her hands quickly go from trying to pull him into an embrace to settling for ruffling his hair.
"You look very handsome young man!" She squeals with pride, but she is quickly unsettled by his mask of indifference.
Henry shrugs his shoulders and walks towards the entrance's closet. He takes out his winter coat and throws it over his shoulders. His entire demeanor is purposely careless. Regina knows her son enjoys provoking her. He is constantly testing her limits and, more often than not, she loses her temper. Her fear of being rejected by her son makes her overly clingy and completely irrational.
"Don't forget to put on your scarf," Regina warns him in a soft overprotective motherly voice. She reaches behind him for a small box behind him and takes out a red and grey striped scarf. She wraps it tenderly around his neck, trying her best to disregard the murderous looks her son is sending her way. "We wouldn't want you to catch a cold, would we now?"
"Oh, please! You don't truly care about me." Henry hisses, through his teeth. "You're not even my real mom, you're evil!"
Regina pulls away, taken aback by her son's harsh words. Her hand closes firmly around her son's forearm.
"Breathe," her psychologist's voice comes ringing into her ear. "When you feel like shouting, take a deep breath and count to ten. It will help you control your temper."
She tries to do the exercise he prescribed, but tears are already gathering in her eyes. She hates crying. It's weak. Showing emotions is weak. She straightens up, her hand flexing over the fabric of her black coat.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Oh! Fuck it!
"Go sit in the car," she hisses. "Now!"
"Regina!" Daniel whines, sounding disappointed.
"I knew it!" Henry shouts before running out the door. "You're evil and I hate you!
"It's going to be okay," Daniel mouths to his wife before rushing after his son.
She wishes she could believe him.
