Beacons: Chapter Three.
**Trigger Warning: Child Abuse**
The thumping. It always started with the thumping. Then the clanging. The slamming of doors. The shuffle of boots. The clatter of a chair hitting the floor. The screams. The screams were bad. But, the footsteps were worse. The footsteps that traveled up the hallway, stopping at the door.
Emma huddled in the bathtub, blanket pulled over her head. Tighter and tighter. She had to be smaller.
The door shook.
"Get out," Todd's voice boomed.
Emma's hands shook. She clenched her fists harder, squeezing the quilt.
"This is my house," the shouts came louder and stronger. Her safe haven echoed, bouncing his hoarse words back and forth. Curse words rang forth.
The clink in the lock, fumbling, then a click.
A massive hand grabbed her arm, yanking her from the tub. Todd stood over her. Her face pressed to his tailored suit. The smell of pipe smoke filled her nose.
Her feet drifted over the tile, then the carpet as Todd dragged her into the hall. Her head smacked the wall. Todd's hand pinned her in place, holding the back of her neck.
"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry—" Emma screamed. And the belt came down.
#
Mayor Mills cursed. David's house was empty. The garage missing its rattletrap truck. The Police station held nothing but a deputy. She'd scanned the video feeds, checked the woods. Nothing.
She was too late.
David was gone.
The child was coming.
She had to prepare.
Shaking herself loose, Regina gathered the pulsing stones from her purse. She whispered the sacred words into the rock, and they sparked at her touch. Regina allowed herself a grin.
Walking to the front door, Regina ground the rocks into the threshold, then blew away the dust.
The curse would be fully effective.
It would have been better for Charming had he never found the girl.
#
Earlier that Day.
David stared across the countertop, "It's not enough anymore, I need her,"
Mr. Gold gritted his teeth, leaning forward, "I'm afraid acquiring children is a bit more difficult than the trade I typically run in."
"Anything," David said. Mr. Gold turned to the wall, fiddling the safe.
"This kind of…power comes with a price," Mr. Gold said. David's heart constricted.
"I don't have much money," he said.
"Not necessarily monetary," Mr. Gold padded back to the counter, laying a stack of papers down.
"Then what?" David asked.
"I had a feeling you'd be coming with this kind of request. Call it foresight," he grinned, but somehow it didn't look quite right. "I've had the contracts drawn up for quite some time."
"What are you saying?" David asked.
"It's been brought to the agency's attention that Emma does indeed have a legal guardian."
"What?" David suddenly felt lightheaded.
Mr. Gold placed his hands on the glass.
"Due to the alternative nature the organization, there were loopholes."
"So?" David's knee bounced.
"They were delighted when I called and presented some…interesting findings of their procedures. They are quite eager to have Emma returned to her biological father."
Mr. Gold pushed the top page across the counter to David.
"Sign here, become a father again," he said.
"How much is this going to cost?" David asked.
"Let's just say," Gold paused, tilting his head. "You'll owe me one."
David's pen scratched on the paper, and for a split second, he could've sworn a spark of blue twinkled across the page.
#
Current time
David could've waited for the agency to drop Emma off. He really could've. But, every second since signing those papers was agony.
The organization had been a little surprised when he called, saying they weren't expecting to transfer her till the next month, but relented when Mr. Gold spoke to them. The company was surprisingly happy to get Emma off their hands after blackmail.
The address Ms. Mullberry gave him over the phone was a little over five hours from Storybrook. David hadn't stopped to pee once.
The emerald ring glinted from the chain around his neck. Mr. Gold had insisted he take it. David turned from the stoplight into the neighborhood, staring at the mansions surrounding him. His car eased to a stop in front of the smallest, yet still immense, house on the block.
He approached the front door, knocking his fist once against the wood. The door eased open, and a haggard looking woman in a form-fitting dress appeared.
"Wait here," she said, tone flat.
David stood in awkward silence, straining to hear the laugh of a little girl. Perhaps she'd come bouncing around the corner, throwing herself into his arms and—
The slam of a door somewhere on the second floor caught him off guard. He permitted himself to step slightly inside the house. It was cold. Who keeps their house that cold? It was almost as chilly as it was outside.
A loud whisper,
"He's here,"
Followed by a grumble.
"Now's not the time." It was the woman who answered the door.
More mumbling.
"Again?" this time her voice was higher, louder.
#
Emma laid in the tub, looking at the key between her toes. The blanket lay forgotten on the floor. Her breath rattled as she sucked air in and out.
"Where is it?" She choked back a sob. "Where's my ocean?"
Her hand found the cool metal, twisting the plug shut.
She'd just have to make one for herself.
The nobs twisted under her palm, and glorious water shot forth.
Emma closed her eyes, and waited to disappear.
#
David snapped his head up at the sound of rushing in the walls. He sighed. It was just a faucet, somewhere. He forbade himself the luxury of pacing. How long was this going to take?
"I'm sorry," the woman said, walking down the stairs. "She's decided to throw a fit." She narrowed her eyes upon seeing him clearly inside the house, and not the doorway.
"What do you mean?" David asked, ignoring her.
"She likes to lock herself in the bathroom to get attention. This time, she decided to take the key with her."
"Does she know I'm here?" David asked.
"Children like her are difficult to reason with." The woman offered a demure smile.
A deep shout echoed from upstairs.
"There's water coming under the door!"
David met the woman's eyes.
"She's flooding it!" The shout again.
Her face whitened.
"I'm sure it's fine, dear," she called.
A loud bang.
"How long has she been in there?" David asked, trying desperately to keep his tone even.
"I-I'm not certain," she said.
The shout once more, "Open up, you little piece of—"
David bolted past the woman and up the stairs. What he happened upon looked like a scene from a nightmare.
A man, an inch or two smaller than him, pounded his fists against the white wood. The carpets squished with water under David's every step.
"Move!" David shouted. The man looked up in shock, and David shoved him to the side. Backpedalling a couple steps, David slammed his shoulder into the door. A thin cracking sound.
Again.
"Don't break the—"
Again.
His shoulder ached. The man lunged forward. Taking a deep breath, David kicked up, smashing his foot against it. The door banged against the wall, the hinge ripped clean off. David slipped and fell against the tile. Water rushed out around him.
He gripped the side of the bath, yanking himself to his knees.
She was facedown.
He grabbed her arms, pulling her from the mess. Her blonde hair hung in wet ropes as he pulled it away from her face. She was coughing. Snot, water, everywhere.
But, she was his.