This chapter consists Emma being in the same place as Killian, but never meeting him. He,however, meets her. WARNINGS!: Depression and Suicide Attempts ahead. Don't worry: nothing too graphic. I have a phobia of blood. (FUNFACT!) Also, (spoiler alert) no one dies.
In this chapter.
3
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. I can't even imagine what I would do with Hook if I did ;)
If I told you what I was,
Would you turn your back on me?
And if I seem dangerous,
Would you be scared?
~Imagine Dragons: Monster
Emma is simply been minding her own business when it happens. Well, honestly, she's been hiding behind the tattered sofa as Baelfire pounds on her door, yelling for her to open up, what happened to be being friends?
She bites her tongue as to where she had put their friendship, and rearanges herself nimbly behind the sofa, trying in vain to ignore his proclamations of love, shouted above the pounding of his relentless fists.
She put her hands over her ears, extremely angry at the jerk, the MONSTER, pounding at her door. "Go away, go away, go away," she whispered, pretending to be yelling at him, giving her some satisfaction.
Suddenly, the pounding stopped.
She peeks her head over the furniture, and glances at the curtained window.
It looked dark out.
But it had barely been the midday only moments before! She squints. The windows begin to shiver, and the door begins to quake.
"Wha….!"
The room begins to shudder, then to spasm. The windows shatter, the door implodes. Emma ducks again behind the sofa, fear eating away at her insides. What is going on?
A blanket of darkness envelops her, and she screams out. This is not how she planned to die! She struggles, in vain, against the tangible darkness that holds her captive.
She hears her name being screamed out. "Father? FATHER! DADDY, DADDY HELP ME. DADDY." Her body convulsing with heart wrenching sobs, she shoves against the black wall, only for it to cut at her, like knives. Did the wall just snarl at her?
She throws her entire body weight (not much) against the opposing force, and immediately cries out in pain.
The feeling of one-thousand knives had pierced her, her head, her neck, her stomach, her heart.
The pain finally too much for her to take, she collapses, whimpering, "Daddydaddydaddydaddy," until the darkness takes over not only her body, but her entire being, and succombs to the darkness.
…..
Emma wakes, her head pounding. She groans and snuggles deeper into her mattress, pulling her blankets tightly around her. Everything feels perfect.
She bolts upright.
She doesn't have multiple blankets, let alone a feather-filled mattress. She glances around the room, assessing her surroundings. A large, cozy room, the used-to-be-white wallpaper faded to a pleasant yellow, little white swans adorning the wallpaper. A bookshelf lies waiting in one corner, a large fireplace in the other. A door leads to another room, which, upon further inspection, is a chamber pot and bath. She strides to the window. A sixty-foot drop, at least. It would kill her to jump.
She'll save it for emergencies.
She walks to the door, and drops to her belly, trying to see under the door. Nothing. She puts her ear up to the crack. Nothing. She looks again, one last time for safety. A pair of feet stop in the doorway.
She stifles her gasp and rolls back, away from the door. She jumps into the bed again, hiding under the covers as though they could protect her from the inevitable.
….
She heard the footsteps walk away many minutes later. They were uneven, like the owner had a limp.
She shudders. Knowing that you'll be taken advantage of by an old man is enough to make one wish to jump out the window.
She falls asleep some hours later.
…
A soft knocking on the door wakes her up. She groggily lifts her head and stares at the door.
The knocking comes again. Still soft, but more persistent. A voice calls to her. The voice is rough from disuse, and tries again. The voice is still rough, but from impatience. Emma rolls over and stares at the window again.
…..
Later, the rough voice returns. It pleads with her, begs her, yells at her, screams at her, growls at her, threatens to break down the door.
Emma grits her teeth and waits for the voice to leave her alone.
….
A plate of bread and water slides under the door with a note. "Come and meet me in the dining room for a real meal. You can't refuse to eat forever."
Well, that may be true, but Emma is willing to try. She smashes the plate against the wall and watches the food slide down to the floor.
…
Days later, Emma has proven that one can indeed go long without food or drink. But it hurts. Her stomach stopped complaining, but now her head is fuzzy, hazy, like she's not really there.
Emma has found a spot comfortably close to the window.
To freedom.
….
One night, Emma and the Voice get into an argument. It's the first time Emma had spoken at all, but when she speaks, the Voice listens. Listens to her pleading, her crying and sobbing, listens to her scream and call him inhuman.
He screams back.
Emma looks at the window.
Ignoring his screams and profanities, she opens the window, a cool breeze pushing her back. Back into her room.
Back into captivity.
Emma loves many things. Chess. Horses. Swords. Her father. Emma can do many things. Chess. Riding. Fight. Fight some more.
But something Emma hates, something she cannot do, is be caged in.
Ignoring the increasingly persistent winds, now howling at her, she steps off the ledge, and jumps into the frigid night air, plummeting down to her demise.
As she fell, she wondered.
How funny it was!
How funny that demise should be freedom for anyone.
Just as she's about to hit murky moat water, the wind pushes up, not enough to save her, but enough to soften the impact, slow the fall just enough to hear a voice calling out to her. Just in time to hear a voice, the Voice, yelling at the wind. How queer for one to argue with nature. Even queerer to drive a girl to this.
"Lass-Lass- Don't-LASS!"
She plunges.
…
Killian curses himself. He does it often, curses himself for letting Milah die, for not letting go, for not holding on, for falling victim to a curse, for being a monster. But now?
Now is different.
The blonde haired lass he had seen only briefly, as she fell gracefully from her window like a swan, plunges into the moat.
Curse you, Killian. Curse you. Curse you, Killian. Curse you.
He throws off his leather coat and plunges after her.
The water hits him like a cold slap in the face. It's murky, the water, and he can only barely just make out her figure sinking a few feet away.
Curse you, Killian. Curse you. Curse you, Killian. Curse you.
He pushes his way through vines, and shoves aside a scaly creature, trying to dive down deeper to the sinking girl. His lungs burn. His legs are sore. He wants to let her die. She couldn't love him, she doesn't even like him.
She threw herself out a window to keep him away from her.
So let her stay away!
But this...this is death. Or life. His choice.
Curse you, Killian. Curse you. Curse you, Killian. Curse you.
Just as he feels his lungs burst into a fiery mess, he grabs the blond tresses and a hand, dragging up a lifeless body.
Lifeless because of him.
Just like Milah.
Lifeless.
Curse you, Killian. Curse you. Curse you, Killian. Curse. You.
A/N:
Hope you liked it! I've just been busy with back to school work and yeah...it sucks.
Anyway, SHORT STORY TIME! YAY!
So today, my English teacher tells us to make a card with an inspirational quote so we can present it to the class. Something that tells our character and what not.
Guess what quote I used.
Go ahead.
Guess.
"A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets." :D Sca-doosh.
I also had to get a book, and I randomly picked a book called Shiver. Has anyone read it? Is it any good? My brat friend got TFIOS before I could.
ANOTHER SHORT STORY:
I got a lot of my friends Hooked on the show (pun intended: cue laughter)
But
Guess
WHAT?!
My friend said she loved Neal.
I'm reconsidering our friendship.
Hugs and Kisses and Cursings of Killian,
~Mrs Killian Jones: Pureblood.