Exactly as expected, it did not take long before her phone buzzed again. 'What do you mean?' the text said. Two question marks. Intentionally typed to stress out how curious Emma was, or a mistake? A slip of the finger because Emma had been in such a hurry to send the message.
Regina put a hand over her eyes for a moment. What did she mean? That was the question of the day. How was she ever supposed to tell Emma about even a fraction of the things that had happened to her?
It wasn't just a conversation you could open. There was no perfect opening line. 'My ex-fiancée attacked me' didn't suffice. Nor did a brief description.
To know what had happened, Emma had to know the whole story. All of it. There was no easy way to do this.
'Honestly, I'm not even sure where to begin. I know you want answers, and the only way I can give you answers is by telling you everything, because you're right. You are too involved now. But I don't think this is something I can explain to you over text', Regina typed. Then frowned slightly in concentration as she tried to push back the nausea and reminded herself that she was in a safe space.
Killian was not here.
Talking about what had happened didn't magically transport him to her bedroom.
'I've tried to put it behind me for a while now, and I fear that sharing this with you will reopen old wounds', she continued the text. 'But at the same time, I feel like things have reached a point where I can't pretend anymore, and not just because of the stalker. I like you very much, Emma. But things are so complicated.' Not at all a satisfying answer. Even to her, it looked annoyingly cryptic, but it was the best thing she could do. She sent the text before she could get a chance to regret it, and some sadistic little part of her halfway hoped that Emma would clap back at her and call her out on her bullshit.
But Emma did not. The answer, when it arrived only thirty seconds after Regina had sent the text, was every bit as sweet and patient as Emma was in person.
'Regina, you can tell me anything.'
God, how Regina wanted to! But she had no idea how. She couldn't just fire off a long block of text telling Emma about the horror she had endured. She couldn't find the right words. And it would be too much. In every single way it was possible.
'And I will. Very soon. I just have to find the right words first. In the meantime, will you do something for me?' she was well aware that Emma Swan didn't owe her any favors, but she was desperate to protect her in any way she possibly could. And she knew how tech savvy Liam Jones was. She knew because he once jokingly had offered Killian to put up a hidden camera in their house to keep an eye on her.
At the time, Regina had dutifully laughed like the good fiancé she was. But her insides had curled. Just as they were curling right now.
Liam had not been joking.
'Yeah, anything.'
Regina shook her head. She definitely did not deserve this kind of patient answer. 'Switch to another room', she typed and sent the message, only then realizing how jarring that had to come across.
Oh god, she couldn't do anything right tonight!
'Why?' the next text from Emma read, and Regina was very eager to come forward with her reasons for asking Emma to switch room so abruptly.
'I really don't want to frighten you, but it is possible that there is a camera in your room. Change your room, and please change your number as well.'
'Alright. I'll change room, and I'll change my number.'
'Good.' Really, that was all Regina could ask for.
'Are you sure you're not in any danger?'
How was this even possible? Regina had just sent Emma a very unnerving text about the possibility that she was being watched. Instead of giving Emma a straight answer about anything, she had been cryptic and fed her bullshit.
And yet, here Emma was, concerned about her wellbeing when she should be biting Regina's head off and calling her an asshole.
Sometimes Regina caught herself wondering whether Emma even was real. How could anyone be so kind and patient and... perfect.
Her heart hurt when she thought about what she could not have. But she pulled herself together and replied to the text: 'yes, I'm absolutely sure. And neither are you as long we don't see each other. You mustn't show up at my house anymore.' So terribly cold. But she had to ensure that Emma didn't take any unnecessary risks.
She was not worth putting yourself in danger for.
That should probably have been the end of that conversation, but Regina couldn't help indulging herself for a moment. 'Goodnight, Emma.'
'Goodnight, Regina.'
No 'fuck off' or 'leave me alone, you weirdo'. Just a gentle goodnight.
Regina put the phone away and stared blankly out of the window. She was ready to tell Emma everything. But she had no idea how she was supposed to do it. A message wouldn't work, that much was evident. For obvious reasons, she couldn't call Emma and tell her. And she couldn't stop by Eugenia's Inn either. Suppose Liam was watching them from somewhere and waiting to strike the moment Regina left? She couldn't risk that. She couldn't risk something happening to Emma. Ergo, she had to come up with some other way. But her mind was completely blank right now...
For the second time in a very brief time span, Regina did not sleep that night. The fact that she had slept so much the previous day only held a fraction of the reason for her insomnia. She had been thinking and debating and contemplated with herself all night.
She was bleary eyed, completely exhausted, and she still had no idea how to do this. Still didn't know how to tell Emma everything. The story had so many layers. There were so many things and details, and she so wanted to be honest with Emma and tell her everything.
But could she? Was she truly brave enough?
Regina slowly tiptoed downstairs. It was only four in the morning, but there was no way she could sleep. She ventured into the hallway and quietly shrugged her coat over her pajamas. She wiggled her bare feet inside her boots and then crept outside. The air was so cold she shivered in her thick coat. But the night sky was velvet black and dotted with stars. There was a touch of frost in the air. Tomorrow would be another beautiful day. Regina wished that she could appreciate it. But she was far too concerned. Too... Everything.
She began walking back and forward in Zelena's backyard. How was she supposed to do this?
What if she truly wasn't brave enough? What if she got cold feet at the very last moment? What if her newfound courage deserted her and she went back to being a scared coward?
No. No, that couldn't happen.
Regina so wanted to be brave.
Back and forward she walked.
Back and forward.
Back and forward.
She was so fatigued. So, so tired.
But she refused to sleep until she found a solution.
She registered that her throat had begun to hurt again, but for once, Regina ignored the pain. She was desperately trying to hold on to the bravery. But she wasn't doing a very good job. The thought of telling Emma everything already made her feel faintly nauseous.
It took everything in her to remember that what had happened was not her fault. That she was not to be blamed for what had happened. She had no reason to feel ashamed over the horrible things Killian had done to her.
It was not her fault that he beat her.
It was not her fault that he beat her.
It was not her fault that he beat her.
The sentence kept echoing in her mind as though she was trying to convince herself.
Because there was a small part of her that still doubted.
She was the one who had stayed.
Even though Killian had beat her over and over again.
She had constantly made excuses for him.
That he was tired.
That he was stressed.
That he was sorry.
That he would never do it again.
Regina's shoulders slumped. She had been terribly naïve. A right little fool.
Would she have stayed if Killian hadn't threatened Henry?
She so wanted to say no, of course she wouldn't.
But deep down, she does not know.
Killian was such a master of manipulating her into believing his lies.
Maybe...
Maybe she would have stayed. Married him. Continued their life and kept hiding the bruises and faking her smiles.
And perhaps he would have ended up killing her.
No. Not 'perhaps'. He would have.
The violence would have escalated whether she had decided to leave or not. One day he would have snapped like he had that horrible night.
She took a deep breath. Inhaled the fresh cold night air. She was lucky to be alive. Very, very lucky.
Now she had an overwhelming urge to rush upstairs and pluck her boy out of his bed and hug him tightly. Henry, the center of her universe. She would die for him in a heartbeat, and yet the thought of him growing up without her made her feel positively sick.
Thank god she managed to call the police that night.
Thank god Zelena managed to prevent her from jumping out of that window.
No matter how bad her life ever would be, Regina would never attempt to take her own life again. She wouldn't even consider it.
She pulled at the coat to wrap it tighter around herself. So far she had had a very sentimental moment, but she had not come closer to a solution regarding Emma Swan. How to tell her the truth. It was so difficult to find the right way to do it, and WHY was her throat hurting so bad? Was this another flareup? Oh god, with everything else going on right now, Regina wasn't sure she could handle another flareup. She rubbed her throat in an attempt to make the pain go away, but it didn't seem to help.
It was actually starting to hurt a lot. The flareups were coming so regularly, this was almost becoming normalcy, Regina bitterly thought to herself as she rubbed at her throat. Her doctor, Doctor Auburn had warned her about the healing process being painful. Apparently the throat was a very sensitive place when it came to surgery. Regina rubbed at her throat again, but it seemed to be only getting worse. Of course. Her doctor had warned her about not touching the area, but Regina couldn't seem to remember not to do it. Rubbing her throat relieved the pain momentarily, but then the pain came back tenfold. It was an evil spiral, really.
Regina sighed. She didn't want to take another painkiller. She really, really didn't. But if this pain continued, that was definitely the path she was steering towards. Unfortunately.
It was the same old story repeating itself over and over again.
Regina continued her pointless back and forward walk through the garden and her shoulders bunched she for a moment allowed herself to think about the one person she had tried so hard not to think about.
Emma Swan.
Oh, how Regina missed her!
More than she ever could have imagined. She missed their coffee appointments. She missed the entertaining and stimulating conversation. She missed seeing Emma smile and laugh.
Emma was so beautiful when she laughed.
The yellow sunshine in her hair. Regina missed that too.
And her kindness. That was something Regina would never be able to forget. Emma Swan had been a stranger. She could have taken one look at Regina and chalked her up to be a strange woman who couldn't talk and nothing more. But she hadn't. Instead she had been brave enough to strike up a conversation with Regina.
Not many people would have enough patience to strike up a conversation with a mute woman.
But Emma had.
She had asked her out on a date.
A DATE, for crying out loud!
If there was something Regina never had imagined herself to do, it was dating. She had sworn that she was done with dating and connecting with people in a romantic way.
But she had, nonetheless. Although buried deep beneath fear and hesitation, Regina HAD started to develop something that some day could turn into romantic feelings for Emma Swan. She could have come to care for her in that special way she had sworn she never would.
And now she wanted to tell Emma the truth.
Emma deserved to know the truth.
She owed it to Emma to tell her the truth.
But she still had no idea how to do it.
And her fruitless walking about in the garden didn't seem to jumpstart her creativity in any way.
It was starting to get really cold. And the pain in her throat seemed to get worse every time she swallowed. Which of course she couldn't stop doing. She was one of the people who couldn't help swallowing when her throat hurt.
It was time to head inside. Otherwise she could end up getting a regular sore throat.
And a sore throat on top of a 'sore throat' was just about the last thing Regina needed right now.
She spun around on her heel and walked back towards the door. As quiet as a mouse, she slipped inside and gently closed the door behind her. The sound rouse nobody from their peaceful sleep. Regina considered that to be a victory. She didn't want to wake anybody up. Especially not Zelena. She always got so worried when she discovered that Regina was unable to sleep.
Regina didn't want to worry her.
She took of her boots and coat and rubbed her arms in an attempt to get some warmth back in them. It was possible that she had been outside for longer than what she first assumed.
'Sneaking around' downstairs seemed like risky business when there was a Zelena in the house. A Zelena who worried when her little sister did not sleep. Retiring to her bedroom would probably be a good idea.
So she quietly went upstairs, avoiding the step that creaked when walked on. Zelena had complained about that step many, many times. And Chad had promised that he would fix it just as many times. But he never did. And knowing Zelena, she would probably end up fixing it herself. That was just the kind of person she was. Wonderfully impatient. Gloriously headstrong. Regina had always admired her sister's resourcefulness.
She didn't return to her bedroom immediately. Instead she took a quick peek inside Henry's room. His little nightlamp was still burning. Her little boy was fast asleep laying on his back with one his arms dangling out over the bed and the blanket bunched at his feet.
Regina quietly slipped inside her son's room. She gently picked up his hand and tugged his arm in by his side. Because like most kids (and some adults) Henry had this irrational fear about sleeping with some part of his body dangling out over the bed. The old tale about the monster under the bed and all that.
Regina knew that tale all too well. She'd had that fear too when she was a child. To some extent, she still had it. The only difference being that the monster was no longer under her bed, but IN it.
She knew there was a good chance that Henry would shuffle about during the night (he had always been a shuffler) but still, she didn't want to risk him waking up with one arm dangling out over the bed. He wouldn't like that.
Next she gently tucked him in. It was a cold night, and she didn't want him to get cold during the night. Regina sat down on his bedside for a moment. Gently ran her fingers through his messy brown hair. How sweet he was, her boy, when sleep had his face look completely smooth and innocent. Sometimes Regina had seen a shadow of concern behind his eyes, but in sleep, that shadow disappear. As it should.
She kept running her fingers through his soft hair. The gesture reminded her of when he was a baby, and she ran her fingers through his soft baby hair to calm herself when the grief over her father became too strong. If she hadn't given birth to her son, she wasn't completely sure what would have happened, to be honest. Her new little baby had given her a light to hold on to in the darkness. Henry had saved her life.
Her fingers stilled in his hair as she heard him make a slight snuffling sound in his sleep. He had always been a snuffler. Even as a baby, he always snuffled in his sleep. Regina looked at her son's face, peaceful in his sleep. For his sake, she would willingly endure the night of horror one more time. She would do it all over again if it meant that Henry would not be harmed. She would take a bullet for him without blinking.
That was when she noticed something white laying on the floor. It had to accidentally have slipped from the bedside table. Regina reached down and snatched it. It was an envelope addressed to Amelia Donovan, Henry's penpal who lived in London. It had originally started out as a school project when Henry was eight and his class was supposed to chose a penpal from another part of the world and write to him or her. But Henry and Amelia had continued to exchange letters, and Regina was delighted that her son still was interested in doing something as old fashioned as writing letters. It was such a wonderful, personal thing to do.
A letter. A personal thing to do.
Something clicked and made sense in Regina's sleep-deprived mind.
A letter. Of course. That was what she was going to do. Write Emma Swan a letter. A letter telling her everything. It would be easier to write a letter than writing her a message. It would be more than a block of text. The words would come directly from her and not filtered through the great wide web.
Yes. A letter. That was a good idea. Regina smiled a little. Her son had indirectly solved all her problems. Her clever, clever boy.
Henry stirred. Sleepily lifted his head. "Mmm... Is it morning yet?"
Regina shook her head and felt a little guilty for having roused him from his sleep. Normally he was quite the heavy sleeper, but he had probably sensed her presence. They'd always had a very strong connection. It sounded like such an air-head thing to claim, but as a baby, Henry had watched her when she walked around and did housework, and even his doctor had commented on how observant and interested Henry was when it came to watching her every move.
"That speaks of the strong connection between the two of you," the doctor had said as he examined the three month old Henry.
Regina had never forgotten that.
"Why aren't you asleep?" Henry croaked. "Is something wrong?"
Regina gave the only answer she could and shook her head, mom-smile plastered to her face.
"Then why is your Lurking Mom-Mode activated?" Henry asked sleepily.
Regina cracked a smile. Lurking Mom Mode. That was a new one. She quite liked it. Made her feel like some kind of Pokémon. A Lurking Mom spotted in the wild.
Henry snickered a little. Clearly he liked the 'Lurking Mom' comment too.
Regina remembered that she was yet to give him a reason as to why she was sitting by his bedside this late. In the faint light from the little lamp, she signed that she had seen his lamp on when she walked to the bathroom. It was a lie, of course, but a very small one that did no harm.
"Oh, yeah, I forgot to switch it off," Henry slurred as he mashed his face into the pillow.
Indeed? Regina knew her boy well enough to know that he was lying a little bit. She had the strongest feeling that he had left the night light on, on purpose. But she wouldn't dream of pressing the issue. Instead she felt a wave of sadness. Her poor boy. He had most likely left the night light on to avoid night terrors. And it seemed like it had worked. He had been sleeping quite peacefully when she came in here. And if that was because of the night light, well... Then Regina was willing to let him sleep with his lamp on for all eternity.
The little puffing sounds told her that Henry had gone back to sleep again. Good. She tucked him in one more time, dropped a kiss on his hair and then snatched the letter addressed to Amelia Donovan so she could mail it in the morning.
As she left his bedroom and padded back down the hallway, she suddenly realized what Henry had meant with his 'Lurking Mom' comment. He had indirectly been asking her if she had a reason to lurk. He most likely thought that it was one of his night terrors who had woken her.
Regina's mouth twisted a little. Oh, Henry, Henry. They had to have another talk about the night terrors. And in particular about how it was nothing to be ashamed off.
Coming back downstairs, Regina sat the letter on the kitchen table so they would remember to post it tomorrow. Then she ventured into Zelena's office. It was an odd little room. The desk was a monster of an antique thing Zelena had bought a few years ago. Regina vividly remembered how they had cussed when they single-handedly carried the damn thing inside the house. They nearly dropped it on her foot.
The walls in here were pistachio green. For reasons Regina didn't quite understand, but oh well.
The laptop standing on the desk hummed softly, meaning that it was switched on. Regina scowled slightly. She would have to remind her sister to switch it off properly. Leaving it switched on during the night was a terrible habit. And Regina had read one too many stories about how an overheated laptop had sat a whole house on fire.
She demonstratively switched the laptop off and then she opened the first drawer in the old desk. Found what she was looking for. The cream colored stationary. Henry wasn't the only one writing letters in this family. Zelena was very fond of sitting down and writing a good old-fashioned letter to her adoptive cousin, Louise who lived in England.
Regina helped herself to several sheets of the pretty, cream colored stationary. Just in case she messed up the first letter. Then she quietly left the office and crept upstairs again. Shut the door to her room. Switched on her own night light. Found her reading glasses in the drawer. Felt the anxiety swirl in her belly as she made herself somewhat comfortable in her bed with lots of pillows behind her back. This was it. Now she was going to write her 'story' down so Emma could read it. She sighed. This was not an easy task to complete. She could already feel the painful memories pressing against the inside of her skull like a throbbing headache. And somehow the pain seemed to spread to her throat.
But she was going to do this! She had vowed to herself that she was going to share her story with Emma, and she was damn well going to do that!
Regina reached within the drawer one more time and found a pencil. Then she looked at the blank paper in front of her. She brought the pencil down and noted that it was shaking in her grasp. She took a deep breath and urged herself to calm down. She couldn't keep hiding the truth from Emma. It wasn't fair of her to leave Emma in a state of total confusion.
She had to be brave. Or at least try.
Come on, she silently urged herself. You can do this. She was even forming the words as though that was going to help. Her hand was shaking worse than ever as she grabbed the pencil. She gnashed her teeth and tensed her jaw. Come on!
She managed to write 'Emma.' Then her palms dampened, and her heart started racing and she had to take deep breaths not to start panicking. She was not doing a very good job at being brave. She felt pathetic. Couldn't even start the letter without panicking. She took another deep breath. Urged herself to keep going.
She started again. This time she made it through the initial 'I'm sorry' before her hands started shaking so bad her handwriting became unrecognizable. She had no choice but to curl the paper into a ball and start over.
Which she was not doing a very good job at either.
The initial 'I'm sorry' went fine this time. Then she started writing about what had happened, and the whirlpool of emotions took hold of her. Full on nausea and dizziness and everything that was uncomfortable. She had to rush over to the window and push it open. She took deep gulps of the cool night air and hoped that would be enough to keep the nausea at bay. She really didn't want to throw up. Not again.
Regina squared her shoulders. Took a breath. Come on. You can do it.
She climbed back in bed and grabbed a new paper. Then she began writing again.
She made it a little further this time. Had just started to describe how she had met Killian in the bar in Montreal. But she couldn't even do that.
The betrayalstung within her. The memory of meeting a perfectly handsome, charming man and thinking that he was exactly what she had been looking for, hurt.
Regina put the pencil down and shielded her face in her hands.
Had he known then that he was going to hurt her?
Had he been trying to rope her in all the time?
It was possible.
Regina took several deep breaths.
In and out.
In and out.
Her throat hurt.
Her head hurt.
Her heart hurt.
But she doesn't want to be a coward.
She HAD to do to this, and she had to do it now. Otherwise she never would be able to write this letter.
Regina moved her hands away from her face. Gnashed her teeth and pushed the feeling of flames in her throat away. She could damn well feel sick later! Be pathetic later...
'Emma,
This is not easy for me. I believe this is the third time I'm trying to write this letter to you. I failed both times. The first time I barely manage to write a line before I had to stop. The second time I made it past the difficult part before nausea forced me to the bathroom.
But you want answers, and what's more, you deserve answers. God, you deserve answers! Apart from my sister, you're the first person to know the truth. You're the first person I've wanted to share the truth with.
You've asked me if this has anything to do with Henry's father. It hasn't. I met Henry's father in a bar when I was twenty four. I had been drinking, and so had he. Perhaps that was why we hit it off so well. Either way, we ended up going back to his room and, well... I suppose I don't have to explain what happens when two people who have been drinking decides to move things to a more private setting. It was over in a flash. Just a one time thing. The only thing I know about Henry's father is that his name is Daniel and that he was a riding instructor at the time. He was gone when I woke up next morning, he left me with the bill for the room. Charming fellow. Anyway, six weeks later I found out that I was pregnant. Not very surprising considering the fact that we were too drunk to think about protection. It was a bit of a shock at first. I hadn't exactly planned to become a mother right then and there, but I was never in any doubt when I found out I was pregnant. Perhaps it didn't fit into my plans, but is there ever a "right" time when it comes to having children?
Henry is undoubtedly the best thing that has ever happened to me. And there was a point where he was just about the only thing that kept me going.
There never was an accident, Emma. I didn't loose my voice because of an accident. It was taken from me. I'm about to reach the part where I had to stop the second time. I really hope that I'll manage to write it this time, because having to start over would simply be too difficult.
I want to tell you a story. A story that begins two years ago when I was living a rather pleasant life if I do say so myself. I had a good and stable job, and I had an adorable eight year old who's biggest question was why the sky sometimes changed from grey to blue. Life was good. I was contend. But maybe not as happy as I claimed to be. There was something missing. I wanted to get back in the "dating" game. Between having Henry and maintaining my career, there hadn't been a lot of time for that, and I was starting to feel like I was ready. I was thirty three and admittedly a little frustrated. I felt like I had missed some opportunities. I didn't want to be alone for the rest of my days. One night I moaned to Zelena about it, and I think you know enough about my sister to know that she's a "less talk more action" kind of woman.
So the week after our talk, she informed me that she would be taking Henry in the weekend. And then she more or less ordered me to "go out there and have fun". So I did. Henry and I lived in Montreal at the time, and I knew the town like the back of my hand, so I ended up driving all the way to Québec and checking into a hotel for the weekend. I had been a long time since I had done something like that, so I felt quite excited.
After having walked around in the city and been on "sightseeing", I decided to do what Zelena had ordered me to do. Go out and have fun. I ended up in some bar. I don't remember the name anymore, but I do remember that I wasn't having a lot of fun. I just sat there with my drink. I was easily discouraged, and it didn't take me long to decide that this had been a bad idea. I decided to empty my drink and then head back to the hotel. I was quick to convince myself that I was acting silly. I wasn't twenty years old anymore.
That was when he showed up. We literally ran into each other at the door, I told him that I was just about to leave, and he told me what a shame he thought that was, he would have loved to buy me a drink. It was definitely a cliché opening line, but there was something about the way he said it. He was confident. Cocky. And I liked that. So I agreed to let him buy me a drink.
We went back to my table, and he bought me that drink. And one for himself. I think I mocked him because he ordered rum. We toasted, we talked, we introduced ourselves to one another. We hit it off. He was interesting. He told me that he was a police officer, and I remember that I laughed because I thought it was a pickup line he used on every woman he met. He answered, "only on the women I find interesting', It was so cliché, but I couldn't remember the last time anyone had used cheesy pick-up lines on me. And he was an attractive man. Rugged, but not in a bad way.
Anyway, to make a long story just a bit shorter, we ended up exchanging phone numbers by the end of the night, and I remember that I thought that was a wonderfully old-fashioned thing to do, especially since I had mentioned to him that I was staying on a hotel not too far from the bar.
We ended up seeing each other the next day. We went for a walk in the city, and he asked me how long I was staying in town. I told him that I was only gonna be there for the weekend, I had to get home to my son. I had expected that that would make him run for the hills, but it didn't. Instead he seemed genuinely interested and wanted to know more about Henry and my job at Montreal University. He seemed impressed when I told him that I was a professor.
Once again, I'll try to make a long story shorter. We spend most of the weekend together and did what people do when there's a fair amount of chemistry between them. By the end of the weekend I was smitten. It was ridiculous because I had only just met him, but I couldn't help it. Everything about him was attractive to me.
But eventually, things had to come to an end. I went back to Montreal. He had my phone number, but that didn't mean a lot to me. I didn't expect him to call me ever again.
So naturally, I was quite surprised when he did. He called me that Monday after Henry had gone to bed. We ended up talking for two hours.
For two weeks, that was how we maintained a "relationship". Over the phone. Then he asked me if he could come and visit me. He had booked a room at a nearby hotel. Henry was having a sleepover with a friend that weekend, so I said yes.
Once again, the chemistry between us was just right. We spent most of the weekend in his hotel bed. He was exactly as charming and wonderful as I remembered and seeing him that weekend only made me more smitten with him.
Fast forward a couple of months... We continued to see each other during the weekends, and when that was impossible, we talked over the phone, most of the time for hours. I introduced him to Henry. I had been very nervous about that, because I had never introduced a partner to Henry before. To me, that was the ultimate test. Everything depended on that meeting.
It went better than I could ever have imagined. Henry was instantly taken with his boyish way, and he seemed quite taken with Henry as well. They hit it off, and I was relieved. Next I introduced him to Zelena, and Zelena liked him too, but there was something about her reaction I didn't quite understand. She wasn't as excited for me as I had hoped, and obviously, I felt very disappointed, and I didn't hesitate to tell her that.
But I refused to let that discourage me. I was smitten with this man. I really felt as though I had found a partner. THE partner. The one I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with.
He moved in with us. Unofficially, at first. But after a while it seemed ridiculous that he had to go back and forward all the time. The house Henry and I were living in were big enough for one more, and he had gotten an offer about being transferred to Montreal Police Department. I really felt as though everything was coming together, and I was delighted when he said yes to the job and moved in with Henry and me. Officially. Henry adored him, and I really felt as though we were becoming a family. I couldn't have been happier.
But that was when things started to change. It happened so gradually, I barely noticed it at first. Sometimes he could be moody when he came home from work, but I chalked that up to him being tired and stressed. Moving to a new city couldn't be easy. And plus, he had gone from living on his own to suddenly living with a mother and her child. That had to be quite the change. I think I would be as tired if I were him.
But then I started to see another side of him. He could sometimes snap. Not at Henry, though. Always at me. But he always apologized and said that he was just tired, and that he would feel better in the morning. And he always did, so I didn't think that much of it.
We hadn't lived together for very long before he surprised me with a romantic night out. Delicious food, good wine. And by the end of the night I got the surprise of a lifetime when he suddenly kneeled and asked me to marry him...
Regina dry-heaved into the toilet a fourth time. The muscles in her throat and belly hurt. She was sweating and trembling, but she was determined to push through no matter what. She had taken refugee in the guest bathroom in the other end of the other end other end of the house to ensure that she would not wake up everybody. Her PTSD was running amok. She was sweating and trembling and feeling like she could pass out at any given moment. The memories of love and devotion turned into fear and misery. The memories of everything he had done to her was so raw. It hurt so much.
But she had to push through the feeling. Had to keep going.
...I cried as I gave him my yes. I couldn't believe it. It felt like a dream come true. A fairytale. A whirlwind romance. By some miracle, I had found everything I could possibly ask for.
I'm sure you've already figured out where I'm going with this story. This is not a fairytale. Quite the reverse.
At first everything was as rose red as could be. We were happy. I suddenly had a wedding to plan, and at first, he participated in everything and acted like an excited husband to be. But then he started to get busier at work, and therefore more stressed and tired. A couple of months after he had proposed to me, we had an argument. I don't even remember what about anymore, but we were both yelling a bit. I don't think I've ever been as surprised in my life as I was when he suddenly slapped me. It had literally come out of nowhere. I was so surprised, I was barely shocked. I couldn't comprehend what had happened.
He immediately got very upset and started crying as he apologized to me again and again. He assured me it was an accident and that he would never ever do it again.
I can't remember what I said to all that. I was still completely shocked. I think I just went upstairs and locked myself in the bedroom. I very distinctly remember that Henry wasn't home that night, and that I was relieved about that.
The next morning, he was still there, and he once again assured me that he would never ever do that again. He cried again and said that he didn't know why he had done it. He loved me and he didn't want to lose me...
Oh, the lies. Oh, how stupid she had been! So fucking stupid! So fucking naïve! The most painful thing about it, was that Regina vividly could remember her thought process on that fateful day where Killian had hit her for the first time. She had been so eager to come up with an excuse for her 'perfect' fiancées horrifying actions. 'He's sorry. He said he'll never do it again. It was just an accident.'
Regina's fingers curled tightly around the pencil in her hand.
She had been so stupid.
A naïve little fool.
WHY hadn't she just left him?
Why hadn't she simply packed her things and gotten the hell out of there the first time he hit her?
What had possessed her to forgive him?
If a man hits you once, there is a huge chance he'll do it again.
Another wave of nausea hit Regina, but she grinded her teeth and bit the feeling back. She had to keep writing. Perhaps it would turn out to be a cleansing experience, or something like that.
... I was an idiot. I forgave him. I wish I could tell you why, but I can't. Maybe I naively believed that he meant it. That he would never do it again.
He did. A couple of months after the first incident, he slapped me again. I don't remember why. Honestly, I don't think there was much of a reason. Exactly like the first time, he cried and was full of apologies. He would never do it again. This time, I told him to leave. And he did. For a few hours. Then he begged me not to leave him. He said he loved me. He promised he would get help for it. I believed him. I actually gave him the benefit of the doubt. I hoped he would change.
He didn't. Instead the situation got worse. He expressed how annoying he found it that I worked so much. He thought it was ridiculous. He could provide for us, he said. I dismissed it and told him how important my job was. He got angry and suggested that I cared more about my work than about him. I told him that wasn't true, but he didn't believe me. We had another argument that night.
I wish I could give you an explanation as to why I kept staying with him. I suppose I hoped that it would get better. That I could somehow change him. And I managed to convince myself that it wasn't that bad. He always behaved when Henry was present. He acted like the perfect stepdad. He was happy and joked with Henry. I told myself that I stayed one more day things would be like that every day.
But nothing changed. Instead the situation escalated. During our... intimate moments, he suddenly developed the habit of grabbing my throat. I asked him why he had started doing that, and he acted surprised and asked me if I didn't like it. I told him that I didn't, and then I asked him to stop it. But he didn't. He kept doing it, and I stopped protesting. He wasn't hurting me, and if it turned him on, I didn't see the point in starting an argument over it. I sucked it up and endured it. I hoped that would make him happier, but it didn't. Everything got worse and worse. He started to believe that I was having affairs with the other teachers at Montreal University. There wasn't an ounce of truth in it, but obviously, he wouldn't listen to that. I "earned myself" a few solid slaps for having lied to him. And then he told me that I shouldn't be working. That it wasn't my place to work. That I should be at home with Henry and take care of him instead. Suppose something happened to him.
It was an obvious threat, and it finally made me wake up. I'd had enough. I couldn't take anymore.
Regina's breath quickened. Her hands were trembling, and her vision was blurred. The night of the attack was getting closer and closer, and she could feel her mind do that thing where it just blocked out everything.
She couldn't feel her heart slamming against her ribcage anymore.
She couldn't feel her hands trembling or the tears falling from her eyes.
She couldn't feel anything.
She was floating up under the ceiling to watch herself write the letter.
The next day I sent Henry to Zelena's for the weekend, and then I waited until he came home from work. Ironically enough, he was in a good mood when he came home, but that changed all too quickly when I asked him to leave. I told him that I'd had enough. That I was done. He went completely ballistic. He screamed at me and threatened me with all kinds of things. Then he hit me again. This time he used his fist, and I ended up hitting my head on the wall. I nearly passed out and he took advantage of that and grabbed my throat. He squeezed. I couldn't breathe properly, but I somehow manage to hit him in the face. I was wearing the ring he gave me, and it cut his cheek. He let go of me and grabbed his cheek instead. I ran. I don't know why I ran upstairs instead of outside. I didn't think clearly. I locked myself in the bedroom where my phone was. I called the police and screamed that he was going to kill me. That was about all I managed to say before he busted the door open and came inside the bedroom. He hit me again. I was on the brink of passing out, and he easily overpowered me. He forced me down on the floor. I'll spare you the details of what he did to me...
Emma did not need to know the details.
But Regina would always be able to remember it.
The buttons yanked off her blouse and strewn all over the floor.
The carpet scratching against her back.
The sound of her clothes being ripped apart.
The FEELING of being ripped apart.
The rape.
The terrible, agonizing rape.
She had been so unprepared.
She had expected a beating, but not that.
It had hurt so much.
So, so much.
But the thought process behind the rape hurt even more.
What it meant.
That she merely was something he could take and use as he please.
And throw away when he was done.
Something he could easily dispose of.
A piece of thrash.
... I kept screaming at him to leave me alone, and somehow, I managed to find the strength to push him away. But only for a moment. Before I could get the chance to even stand up, he kicked me. Grabbed me by my hair and forced me to stand up. He said he was tired of listening to my "bullshit" all the time, and now he was gonna make sure that I would stay silent forever. He grabbed his belt and wrapped it around my throat. Then he squeezed. I tried to get him to stop, but he was so much stronger than I was. He kept squeezing and squeezing. I was convinced that I was going to die. The bedroom started to blur, and the last thing I heard before passing out was the police kicking down the front door...
She would have died if the police hadn't shown up. That much was clear.
... I woke up in the hospital. I had four broken ribs, two black eyes, and my left cheekbone was broken. I was very confused and didn't quite understand what was happening. One of the nurses told me what had happened a week earlier. They had kept me in a medically induced coma to lessen the pressure on my brain. I was sore and tired, but I remembered everything that had happened to me. Things were very difficult. After I became conscious, I panicked every time one of the doctors had to examine me. I wouldn't let them touch me. They had to sedate me.
At some point, when I was aware enough to listen, they told me that they had arrested my fiancée. He hadn't been very difficult to find. A nurse asked me if I could tell them what he had done to me. A policeman would come and take my statement. I opened my mouth to tell them everything, and I couldn't talk. Not a word came out of my mouth and I panicked all over again. I had to be sedated again.
I don't know exactly when, perhaps it was a couple of days later when they told me that the strangulation had damaged my vocal cords severely. But they were convinced that it was temporarily. That my voice would come back.
It didn't. I couldn't talk no matter how hard I tried, and it was impossible for me not to think about what he had said right before he started choking me. That he would ensure that I stayed silent forever. I assume he meant that he was going to kill me, but in a twisted way, he got it the way he wanted. He took my voice from me.
I was too ill to testify against him, but it wasn't necessary. My injuries were more than enough. He was charged with assault, rape and attempted murder and was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.
I wish I could tell you that that eased things for me, but it didn't. I was very depressed and more than once I thought about ending things myself. I couldn't talk, and I couldn't bear the thought of anyone touching me. Not even my own son. My recovery was slow, and I had to spent some time at a psychiatric ward. Eventually, I started to feel better. I couldn't just give up. If I did that, he was gonna win, and I refused to let him win. I clawed my way back to life. Literally. I learned to hold my son again, and eventually, I was transferred to a hospital in Toronto to have an operation. An operation that was supposed to give me back the ability to speak. That operation failed. I'm currently waiting for a second operation. One the doctors are convinced is gonna be a success. I had just been discharged from the hospital and was on my way to Vancouver to live with Zelena when you met me on the train.
Now you know the truth. That there never was an accident, and I know you must be wondering why I told you that in the first place. The reason is simple, really. Henry doesn't know. He doesn't know what really happened to me. The first time he was allowed to visit me and asked Zelena what had happened, she panicked and said that me and my fiancée had been involved in a car accident. She told Henry that my fiancée had been drunk driving and that's why he had been sent to prison.
I didn't correct it. I can't tell him the truth. He's only ten. He's too young to know this. The truth would devastate him. Maybe it's wrong of me to lie to him, but right now, it's the best thing to do.
As for the man who's stalking you... His name is Liam. And he's the brother of my ex-fiancé. I only met him for a few times, but it turns out, he's every bit as bad as his brother. When my ex-fiancé was sentenced, his brother caused quite a scene in the courtroom. He yelled and shouted that I was an evil, lying bitch who was ruining his brother's life. He said that he would come after me and finish the job. That made the judge give him a restraining order right then and there. He's not allowed to come nowhere near me or Henry or Zelena. I thought that would be the end of it, but clearly, I was wrong. I think Liam must have seen us together and decided to take out his anger on you because he can't get to me. I saw sheriff Graham this morning, and he and the rest of his officers are looking for Liam.
Now you know everything. I'm damaged, Emma. I flinch when people touch me. Some mornings I almost can't find the energy to get out of bed, and some nights I wake up in panic because I can feel his hands around my neck.
I'm not gonna pretend that I'm not feeling anything for you, because I do. But you deserve better than this. You deserve someone that isn't broken, and with everything that's going on with Liam, I think it would be better if you stay away from me.
Regina.'
There it was. The truth. Right there on the paper. She had poured out her heart and soul, but it had not been a cleansing experience. Instead Regina felt horrible dirty and filthy. She took a trembling breath and forced herself to do something she wasn't really supposed to do.
"I-i-i-i-i-i-i-it... w-w-w-w-wa-a-a-a-a-sn-t m...y f-f-f-f-f-f-f...a-a-a-a ult," she whispered. Her voice was broken. She sounded like a hag from a horror movie. And talking hurt so, so much!
She was broken.
Why had he done this to her?
She had done nothing to deserve this.
The only thing she was guilty of, was falling in love with the wrong man.
But how could she possibly have known?
He had been so charming.
So gallant.
So good to her...
Regina rested her head on her arms and wept silently.
That was how Zelena found her a couple of hours later. She was first startled. Then shocked when she saw the blood on Regina's pajama top.
Regina had not noticed that she had been biting her lip. The world blurred before her eyes when she stood. She was dizzy, and once Zelena found out that Regina had not slept the previous night, she worried even more and insisted that Regina went to bed immediately.
Regina felt incredibly guilty for failing Henry again, but she could barely stand or communicate because she was so fatigued.
But she did manage to get one point across, though.
The letter had to be delivered to Emma Swan.
To Be Continued...