Written for SpookyOQ

Day Five, Friday

Prompt: Corpse

A/N: There are some things that are based off true events but nothing major. Just some of what Regina experienced growing up.

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my mistakes.

TW: Mentions of death. Not a major character...not really. It's all in the flashback/dream. So, nothing to worry about.

Chasing after the unknown was something Regina had done for most of her life. Ever since she was an oblivious, little child, she'd heard things and seen things others couldn't, and the only explanation she was ever given by her mother, was that it was all a part of her imagination. She was an artistic girl with an endless ocean of creative visions that sometimes made it hard for her to tell the difference between what was real and what wasn't. And they weren't. Mother told her, repeatedly, day after day of those unexplained movements, the sounds, the touches, that it was her brain. That they weren't real.

But they were.

Her things disappearing and reappearing in odd places, places she was sure she'd not left them at. The knocking on the bathroom door every time she would shower, or someone calling out her name when no one was there. The mysterious, angry red scratches and bruises that would appear out of nowhere. And the child. That sweet, eerie sound of a child in the dead of night, singing and crying—it wasn't a part of her imagination. It was real, and talking about it was how she ended up meeting Robin, and through him she'd met the rest.

Talking about it led her to the mansion they were currently staying at, the one place she felt incredibly uncomfortable in. As much as she wanted nothing more than to leave, she stayed. As if something was tying her down to the property.

"We're doing another ouija board session," Regina demanded, leaving no place for anyone to argue as she grabbed the board and slammed it down on the center of the table. "Ruby—"

"I'll get the EVP recorder," Ruby answered out of instinct.

"And Graham and I will check on the cameras and if they're still rolling," Tink announced, and Emma grabbed the EMF meter and plopped down on the chair set up in the corner of the basement.

All was ready. Lights were off, candles were lit, everyone was gathered around again.

"Are you okay?" Robin asked, his voice barely above a whisper, just enough to be heard between the two of them, and she nodded, avoiding his gaze. "Regina," he said, a little firmer, and she looked up. "Are you okay?" he repeated, emphasizing every word.

Truthfully, she wasn't. But it was evident in the way she looked, wasn't it? The bags under her bloodshot eyes, the lack of effort in the way she dressed. The frustration radiating off her. It was none of their fault. It was the mansion. It was putting her in such low spirits.

"I'll be okay," she promised. "Just…let me do the talking this time, alright?"

At his nod, they began.

First question went unanswered, the planchette didn't move.

The second question was the same.

The third, however, they got a response.

"Regina, are you here?" Regina asked, feeling rather awkward for saying her own name to address someone else, but the planchette dragged itself to the yes.

There, a progress. They were finally getting somewhere, slowly but surely.

"I'm sorry if we came off a little too hostile the other day—"

"You're apologizing to a ghost?" Robin scoffed.

She shot him a glare and continued, "As I was saying—I'm sorry about that. I hope you're not…mad at us."

Okay, maybe Robin was right. Saying that did feel stupid. But no one would like an angry ghost around.

The planchette moved to the no, and she smiled a little.

"The little child, is it yours?" she asked, almost hesitantly, and the object moved again.

Yes.

Her smile disappeared, replaced by a frown at the thought of a child dying so young…or not being born at all.

"It was the fire, wasn't it?"

"What fire?" Robin asked, blinking his bulging eyes, and she wouldn't blame him for being so surprised.

Save for some creaky floors and rusted door handles, the mansion was in perfect condition. No one would believe a fire ever engulfed these walls at some point. There was nothing that pointed at such ever taking place. Nothing but the dream she had.

The planchette moved again, then stopped in the center of the board. A minute went by and they were surrounded by nothing but silence, then it moved again.

Another yes.

"You had something to do with the nightmare, didn't you?" Regina asked, her voice trembling as the tears brimmed her eyes. It felt so real—"Because it was real, wasn't it?" she whispered.

Instead of the usual yes or no, the planchette began spelling out a word.

H…E…L…P

"Help…" Robin trailed off.

"How?" Regina pleaded, and instead of the answer she sought, a sudden puff of wind blew the candles out and the planchette ceased again.

He returned.

When the house was still standing through the flames but done claiming his victims, he returned.

He brought his friends and began putting out the fire to salvage whatever that was left of the mansion.

It was untouched—from the outside anyways. From the inside, it wasn't anything that couldn't be repaired with a little bit of time and money, and he had both.

He returned unmoved. Unbothered by the sight of his pregnant wife's body, curled up right in the middle of the entrance. Not an ounce of remorse as he watched her and brushed a strand of hair away from her pale face with a cold smile. The flames didn't touch her, not even a lick to burn her. She was unharmed and yet, she was gone.

It wasn't what he wanted—a body to worry about, to get rid of. But the job was done, there was nothing to complain about anymore, was it? He wanted her gone and she was gone, along with that burden she was carrying.

How stupid did she have to be to think he'd ever be happy about that?

How naïve was she truly?

It didn't matter.

Nothing mattered as he picked her lifeless body and carried her out back, burying her by the apple tree she loved so much. At least he was nice enough to give her something she wanted even after death.

He wasn't so terrible after all.

Regina woke up in cold sweat, a loud, audible gasp erupting out of her as she sat up, clutching at her right arm.

Someone touched her.

Something touched her, she felt it. A heavy hand smacking right at her bicep, leaving behind a sting.

She almost didn't believe it, though. Tried convincing herself that it was another form of the reoccurring dream she was having, where she was falling. But there it was, a red mark that only continue to grow darker in color.

Something did touch her. And it worried her as to who it might actually be.