This is where the story hits it's turning point, so please send feedback, and I hope you enjoy! Stay safe, take care of yourselves.

Roni

For two weeks, I refused to go to The Looking Glass to do my laundry, in favour of avoiding Melanie. I couldn't even think of her without growling. She did what Snow White does best, and absolutely destroyed anything but hate inside me, so I did what I do best. I took it out on everyone else and let myself boil in disdain for the brat who screwed me over once again.

How did I think I could trust her in the first place? If there's anything I need, Melanie- or any friends- aren't one of them.

Except for Kiera and Riley. I only just met Kiera at the bar, and I don't know much about her. I know she works at the pharmacy on Main Street, and she has two dogs, but she really wants cats. She can't have a cat, because she's incredibly allergic. We've become fast friends, and we usually get lunch together every Thursday, but we only ever talk about work or how good Schaffer's cooking is. I need those two women, and nobody else.

All my memories are fuzzy and hard to see, like looking at your reflection on a dirty spoon. I brushed it off as just being a delayed effect of the curse, but I cast the curse four months ago. If this was the curse messing with me, I probably wouldn't have my memories in the first place. I've ignored that fact to the best of my abilities, and I'm still blaming the curse for my fuzziness.

Instead of spending all of my Saturday on the floor with a bottle of tequila in my hands, I did my long-overdue laundry at Riley's apartment. Her loft may be old and 'rustic,' as she called it, but she had a washing machine and dryer.

I quickly shoved the rest of my clothes into the dryer and went back into the kitchen, where Riley was at the counter, nursing a mug in her hands. She had another mug beside her.

"Coffee?" she asked, gesturing to the mug with her elbow. She nearly bumped it off the counter, and widened her eyes in surprise. I chuckled.

"Got anything stronger?"

"Always," she laughed. "What're we wanting on this early morning," she asked mockingly.

"How about a bit of brandy?" She straightened her face when she heard me. Somehow, she knew exactly what I was thinking.

"Melanie doesn't deserve any space in your mind. If doing shots until you pass out at eleven AM will help, then I'm more than willing to do that." I twisted my mouth and nodded. She hopped off her stool and dug around in a cupboard until she found a half-empty bottle of amber liquid. She fumbled for the shot glasses in another cupboard. She filled them both up and raised her glass.

"Cheers," she said half-heartedly. I snickered.

"To bitches who don't deserve me," I added.

"I'll drink to that," she muttered, before downing the contents of her glass. She filled them four times more, before I remembered I had to drive home. I waved her off, and she brought the rest of the bottle to her lips and drank the little bit left at the bottom. I'm not sure how, but I ended up on the floor, beside Riley. I laid my hand over my belly and closed my eyes. A friend told me that stops the dizziness. I opened my eyes and turned my head to face Riley, who was staring at me with wide eyes.

"How can Melanie just brush you off? You're hot," she said, like it was obvious. If there was an doubt in my mind about Riley being who Mary Margaret was supposed to be, that was gone. I realized just how much she actually listened, how she cared.

"She didn't brush me off. She said she was flirting so she could get my attention, and then in her grand scheme, that would make me take her home." Riley snorted rather loudly.

"Rule one in the rulebook of lesbians. Never flirt with anyone else," she said.

"I'm not lesbian." She raised her eyebrows. "Bisexuality, dear." She nodded.

"And if I was? Lesbian, I mean."

"Oh, I know." Riley's eyebrows raised even higher. "You think you're so subtle, yet I can see you gushing over Lacey from the confines of the kitchen." Her cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink. She stumbled over her words for a few seconds, before I silenced her. "You should ask her out, then." She blushed even redder.

"She's with Mayor Gold, I think."

"You think. You don't know, and I've only ever seen Mayor Gold looking at Lacey. He's never actually talked to her in the bar."

"You said it yourself, love sucks and everyone who's happy in love can go die."

"Yes, but you should have hope. Unless she breaks your heart. In that case, all women suck."

"You know what, I'm gonna do it tonight when she comes into the bar."

"Perfect. If it doesn't go well, I'm always available," I joked.

"We should do that," Riley drunkenly slurred. "If Lacey turns me down, we should date. We'd be the best fucking couple in all of Storybrooke."

"We would," I credited, "but if we break up, what'll happen with the bar?"

"We can promise that if we break up, we'll keep it civil, stay friends, and I'll be the best cook in the entire state of Maine, at the best bar in the entire state of Maine."

"You know what, deal. Why not? What could go wrong?" I laughed and turned my head back to look at the ceiling. The room stopped spinning, and I could feel my legs more prominently, so I told Riley I'd walk home, and that I get my car and my laundry later.

The cool September air bit my hands and nose, but it was tolerable. I stumbled across the street to the other sidewalk, and I could hear a horn honking as I crossed. My body was suddenly being pulled by something, and my vision became fuzzy again. My feet caught on an elevation change, and I felt my body crash to the ground. I could feel with my cheek, that it was smooth concrete. Probably the sidewalk. Beside me, someone was gasping.

"What the hell are you thinking, Roni?! You were nearly killed!"

"Melanie," I regarded icily. She pulled me off the ground and sat on the edge of the sidewalk.

"Seriously, what was that?"

"I'm just a bit intoxicated," I told her. She chuckled humourlessly.

"At noon? You were less than a second away from being flattened by a truck." I spaced out and tripped over my own thoughts.

"I was?"

"Yes. I should be thanked."

"I'm in no position to be giving out thanks, and you are in no position to receive them. Especially from me. Now, good day to you," I stood up, and nearly fell back over.

"And you aren't in any position to walk yourself home, apparently," Melanie muttered, before standing up and clamping onto my arm to lead me back home.

"If you think you can just be forgiven like that, you are sorely mistaken."

"I'm not expecting an apology, though that'd be nice. I'm just doing something kind."

"For once," I muttered. If she heard me, she didn't comment anything further. She stopped me in front of my building and let go of my arm.

"Do you need me to come in, or are you going to find a way to get hit by a truck?"

"Ha ha," I said dryly. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Maybe not, but I need you."

"I don't care what you need anymore." I spun around and opened the door to the building, but her defeated sigh didn't go unnoticed.

Once I was in my apartment, I collapsed face-first onto my couch. I didn't want to think about her any more, so I closed my eyes and eventually fell asleep. I wish I could tell her how much I hated her, but something stops me every time. Maybe I can just settle for getting my point across in action. Maybe I couldn't tell her, because I'd be lying? Or maybe I'm too drunk to think clearly.

Melanie

Two weeks later

Roni was a difficult woman. She never served me when I showed up at the bar, she didn't answer my calls, or my texts, and I can't seem to find her anywhere, other than her bar.

I was glad I saw her on the street two weeks ago. She wasn't well, and we were both nearly crushed by as much a reckless driver as Regina was a reckless woman, but she actually talked to me. I never told her, but the car scratched the backs of my calves, but that wasn't important. She was most important. If she doesn't want to talk to me, I'll let her be, but she must know; I don't give up easily, especially when it comes to her.

Every time I thought about Roni and what I did, I felt nauseous. I even threw up a few times. Even thinking about James and his hands on my body made me nauseous. Maybe I'm just sick in general. That, or they make me sick.

I've tried staying away from The Rabbit Hole, or any other public places. I'm probably just paranoid, but I don't want him anywhere near me, and the thought of lots of people and socializing made me tired.

I wiped my face with my washcloth and draped the wet cloth over the neck of the sink. I felt nauseous again, and I ran out of Tums, so I dug around my medicine cabinet for my Gravol. Instead of medicine, a small pink box caught my attention, and I nearly threw up again. I looked down at my belly and nearly started crying.

I ran to my bed and pulled my phone off the charger, as my breath got out of control. I was nearly panting when I started scrolling through my phone until I found Regina's number. I called, and when she didn't pick up, I called again and again. She picked up after the seventh call, and I could hear the irritation drip from her voice like poison.

"What do you want," she demanded. My heart picked up an even faster pace, and my brain couldn't pick up on what I wanted to say.

"Roni, I-I'm in trouble, and I need your help. Please, please, please, you need to help me, I don't know how to do this, and I'm screwed, and I can't-I can't-"

"Slow down," she instructed gently. I almost forgot she wasn't mad at me.

"I'm pretty sure I'm pregnant," I sobbed. I heard rustling on the other end of the phone.

"That fucking bastard," she growled. "I'll be there in five." Then the line went dead. I rushed to the toilet and expelled my stomach's contents.