I missed you all! I missed this fanfic too! It took longer than expected, but I'm here now with an update, so I hope you can forgive me for the long wait. Thank you all for the support, you guys are great. I hope you enjoy. This chapter gets a bit darker, just a heads up.

TW: I decided to add a trigger warning for eating disorder, but I don't think it requires a higher rating. Trigger warning will be marked.

I didn't know what to expect when I got her text saying we would take an 'adventure' in the park, but I pretended to be excited for Leo.

"What is the name Leo short for?"

"Nothing. Leo is his full name listed on his birth certificate. I already put a copy of his certificate in a scrapbook."

"Why am I not surprised," I muttered under my breath. I found it interesting that she named him 'Leo' instead of 'Leopold.' Even with her cursed-self, she shouldn't know what her father's name was, unless it was already included in the curse.

"Why did you name him Leo?"

"I liked it. When I met him, immediately I thought Leo suited him."

"Leo's good, but I can think of better names," I quipped. She bit her lip slightly.

"What do you want to name your kids?" I nearly choked on air, but didn't show it. I gave her an angry side-glance and paid attention to Leo instead, waving his arms around and begging for attention. I gave it to him and lifted him out of the stroller, giving him a, rather limited, with his position, bird's eye view of the street we walked down. While I wasn't looking, he reached up and tugged on the ends of my hair and I could swear he captured some with his mouth. I didn't care at the moment, as long as he was entertained. I saw him smiling at me and returned it, then a camera flashed from behind us.

I stopped smiling at him and slowly turned to see Mary Margaret looking at the picture emerging from the Polaroid camera she held.

"I'm putting this one in the scrapbook." She looked up and met my glare with doe eyes. "What?" She asked innocently.

"I'm not fond of my picture being taken," I stated.

"And?"

"This situation is no exception. Get rid of it."

"Why? You both look adorable." I got intimidatingly close to her, our noses touching and Leo was staring at us.

"I'm far from adorable and you will know just how un-adorable I can be, so I suggest you trash it before I destroy you." Mary Margaret's eyes widened comically before she gave it to me to dispose of. I snarled and turned back around, adjusting Leo in my arms and talking to him. Mary Margaret stayed back and watched us, but I couldn't see any camera flashes from behind us, so I didn't mind. Even better if she stayed behind and didn't speak.

Just when I was starting to warm up to the idea of warming up to her, she decides taking a picture would be the best route to take. Whatever impulse told her to do that, I wished it died when I threatened her. I didn't want to do it with Leo around, but it had to be done. The picture burned a hole in the pocket of my coat and it was all I could think about when walking with Leo.

This situation reminded me of that boy and his father, so many years ago. How I wanted Owen to stay so I could be a mother, but he didn't want me. It made me fret what the little boy in my arms would do to me. I pushed the thought from my mind as I held the epitome of innocence and happiness in my arms. He wasn't old enough to understand what's happening, therefore couldn't make a decision and hurt me like that.

Leo was dozing on my shoulder by the time we got to the park, which was really only a fifteen minute walk. I smiled down at him and turned to Mary Margaret, her heart melting once she saw him peacefully sleeping, drooling on my pantsuit. I laid him back down in the stroller, buckled him up, and reluctantly walked beside Mary Margaret instead of in front.

"I'm sorry about the picture," she muttered.

"I know you are," I answered shortly. We walked through the gate and passed piles of fallen leaves. It was barely the beginning of fall and already, trees were completely bare.

"I love the fall," I commented absentmindedly. "The colours, falling leaves, Halloween, the horror movies, everything." Mary Margaret smiled.

"It's very pretty. I think my favourite season is spring." I tilted my head to look at her. "I love the idea of new beginnings, the flowers, the regrowing of leaves. It's surreal. Nature is surreal."

We made it to a park bench, where we decided to take a rest. Mary Margaret rocked the stroller back and forth. The air smelled crisp and cool, and if I excluded the company of Mary Margaret, it was a good end to my day.

"Why did we come out here?" I asked Mary Margaret.

"I thought because you and Leo were inside all day, that he would want to go for a walk. And maybe we would get a snack, then walk back." I turned back to the view in front of us and rolled my eyes.

"I don't need you worrying about my personal health, thank you. I go outside all the time." Mary Margaret scrutinized me.

"When?"

"I go for a run every morning before work and I check on my garden every evening after work." She raised an eyebrow.

"I just find it hard to believe that you get off work in time to go outside, let alone have dinner and relax."

"What are you implying, Miss Blanchard?"

"That you're a workaholic and you might not take care of yourself all the time." I growled lowly. Mary Margaret would never be so bold. This must be the doing of Snow White.

"You do not get to tell me I'm not taking care of myself, because I'm doing just fine. I suggest you keep comments like that to yourself, they are only measly deductions based on my worth ethic. Wrong deductions, I might add. I will see you around, Miss Blanchard." I stood up and angrily stomped off to the park exit, navigating my way home.

———Mentions of TW————

The nerve she has, making assumptions about my eating habits and well-being because I tend to work late. What makes me laugh is that my eating habits, at least, are not dictated by my work schedule, but dates back to when Mother influenced my every choice. It only took a snide, passive-aggressive comment to make me either skip meals for the next week or throw up the food I ate, or to eat when she said I looked too skinny. It was none of Mary Margaret's business, sticking her nose into my life, and I will see to it that she doesn't do so again. I would rather be alone than with her questioning my well-being. I was taught my well-being doesn't matter anyways, but mother isn't here to claim that hers is the one that does matter.

——————

The walk home was silent, the sky was getting darker, and few cars were left on the streets. I got inside and took off my jacket, exchanged my heels for boots, and went back outside.

My garden was coming along nicely, with the exception of my patch of pumpkins. They weren't ripe yet, which concerned me, and Halloween would only be two weeks away. I sighed and left the garden, kicking dirt off my boots as I neared the porch. I left my boots outside and searched the house for my cider. I found a bottle in the cupboard above the oven and popped it open without grace. I didn't bother finding a glass, I was too impatient for that. I took a long swig from the bottle and went upstairs, sighing as I acknowledged the nice, cooling tiles under my sore feet.

I started a bath for myself and poured in a decent amount of bubble mix. I heard my phone ring, but I ignored Mary Margaret. I knew it was her without answering, she was the only person who calls me.

I undressed and sank into the water, scorching heat enveloping my skin and relaxing my muscles. I considered adding a bit of cold water to cool the temperature down, but I didn't bother. I drank more of my cider and stared at the tiles on the bathroom wall, thinking about everything and nothing.

My vision blurred slightly when I looked around the room. I've gotten better at holding my alcohol, but on an empty stomach, I could already feel the effects setting in. I felt floaty, but that could've just been the water. The bottle of cider was three-quarters gone. I decided that was enough and placed it on the floor near the tub.

I didn't notice the water getting cooler until now, but it made me feel uncomfortable. I hopped out of the tub, narrowly missing the bottle of cider. I couldn't find the cork to the bottle, so I wrapped a towel around my dripping body to find it.

I found the cork in the kitchen, near my pantry. The clock on my oven read 8:15, but it was behind by an hour. My stomach demanded sustenance without an alcohol content, so I rummaged around in my pantry for a box of store-bought cookies.

——TW——

I try not to keep unhealthy foods in my pantry, especially when I'm drunk and my mother's voice tells me I look too skinny or fat or both. Her voice is there all the time, but when I'm drunk, she has a significantly more powerful hold on me.

I grabbed the tray and found a bag of veggie chips and box of crackers behind some cans of chicken broth. Because I didn't have anything else that would satisfy my craving, I brought a bag of snap peas and carrots too. I made my way to the den, opening the box of crackers. Every time Mother takes over like this, I try and eat slowly, so if I eat slower, Mother won't make me eat so much and won't make me throw it up. She always wondered how I lost weight to fit her standards, and this was how. I'm not proud of it, and I've tried stopping, but I can't. She isn't the only one who tells me these things about my figure. I've spent many nights worrying about my body.

I tried to stray from the less healthy foods first, and went through half the bag of peas and carrots. I only ate two cookies before I felt myself growing sick. I ate one more before rushing upstairs to the washroom. This time, I didn't have to make myself throw up, weeks of small or skipped meals did that for me.

Once the vomiting stopped, I flushed the toilet, brushed my teeth, and curled up in a ball on the floor. I hope you're happy, Mother. You made me miserable and skinny. I didn't notice the tears blurring my sight, but I didn't stop them. Mary Margaret was right. I needed to apologize to her, but I already knew I'd be incapable of doing so. If I apologized, that would mean that she was right, and if she tried helping me, that would be the final straw and end of our little get-togethers with Leo. I didn't need help. I'm perfectly fine on my own.

I should've killed Mother sooner.

I hated this part. After the throwing up comes the self-loathing, the not-looking-at-myself-in-mirrors, and the deep dark pit my teenaged self lives in. This is what rock-bottom looked like for me. It's been a while since I got this low, maybe a bit more than half a decade, but nobody's counting.

I should've killed Mother sooner.

I shouldn't have bought those foods at all.

I should've been better.

I wish I was enough.