A.N: Sorry this took so long, but this chapter was difficult to put together. To make up for it, this is an extra-long chapter. In case anyone forgot, in chapter eight, Emma hotwired three cars and kept the third. A little bit of time skips throughout this chapter and a few areas might seemed jumbled, due to Emma's memory loss. Memories are the italics. Oh yeah, the jail mentioned in here is a real jail from Arizona. Felt like doing some research on it.
"Don't leave me!" I hear myself cry out. Vision becoming clear, I realize I'm in a very dark place. It resembles a castle and I vaguely remember being here before. There is a shadow and I frantically chase after it. "Please don't leave me!"
Whomever I am chasing is laughing at me. Their name is on the tip of my tongue, but I just can't seem to grasp it. No matter how many corners I turn, the person is still always a few steps ahead of me.
"Emma" I hear my name being whispered.
Running down a long hallway, I see a man standing in the open. At least, I think it's a man. He is wearing strange clothing and is standing in front of a large mirror. His hair is in loose dark curls framing his face. The closer I get to him, I realize his skin is a weird color that almost sparkles. Relief floods me. All I remember is that I don't want him to leave me. In a frenzied dash, I fling my arms around him, his leather jacket rustling softly against my skin.
"Miss me?" I hear him scoff. He wraps his arms tightly around me.
"Don't leave me" I plead as I cling onto him. I hear him giggle as he takes a few steps back, pulling me with him. "I want to stay here forever"
"Nonsense, dear child. You cannot stay here" his voice is very odd. It is obviously a man's voice, but with a high chirp of a child's still, "But you'll be back, mark my words"
We are now standing right next to the mirror, and I pull away from him. Confusion floods me when I see his face is indeed a greenish gold color. He is so familiar, but I can't seem to remember who he is, except that I don't want him to leave.
"Who are you?" there is a sound of pure wonder in my voice.
Giving me a maniacal grin that makes my blood run cold, he leans over so that his face is only a few inches away from mine. I don't dare to make a move.
"Wake up, Emma" his voice is so gentle, and for a moment, I feel myself relaxing.
Abruptly, he takes a step back and roughly shoves me towards the mirror. I brace myself, expecting to feel the glass, but instead I find myself falling into an empty space of blackness, the light from the mirror rapidly fading as I drop. I keep falling, faster and faster, and I can hear the man's laughter all around. It's too late to scream, but I do so anyways.
"PULL OVER!" the loud, jarring noise rattles my body.
"What the hell!" I whisper, eyes so wide that my lids hurt.
It takes a few moments to register that I am driving, the glaring sun momentarily blinding me. I am driving through a very dry, dusty area, the afternoon sun so hot that my bangs are glued to my forehead in sweat. Hands gripping the steering wheel so hard that my knuckles have gone white, my breath comes out in a short, painful gasp as my heart beats at furious pace. I'm not falling anymore. I don't even remember getting behind the wheel. The sound of sirens is coming from all around me. Leaning over the steering wheel, I feel myself begin to panic.
"I SAID PULL OVER!"
Looking to my side, I see a police officer driving next to me. I blink for a few seconds as I stare at him. Making an angry jabbing motion with his fingers, he signals for me to pull over. Releasing my foot of the gas, I go to slow down. I hadn't even realized how fast I had been going. Coming to a quick stop, I wince from a sharp, sudden pain on the side of my head. Reaching up, I feel a thick bandage on the side and I open my car door to try and get some fresh air. A sudden wave of nausea grips me and before I know what I'm doing, my head is between my legs and I am retching up a foul smelling liquid.
"Jesus kid, ya'll right over there?" I hear heavy footsteps approaching me. I look up to see the cop, a big man of at least six and a half feet staring down at me. Or rather, he is looking at me from beneath his large top hat. "Ya look awful"
Before I can respond, I am thrown over again, retching up more stomach fluid. My head is killing me and I bring one hand up to clutch it, as if the pressure will make the pain subside. Taking a quick look, I am wearing a white tank top and a pair of black shorts. Frowning, I notice my body is covered in smaller scrapes and healing bruises. I try to remember when this had happened. I know where I got these! The answer is just on the tip of my tongue.
"Where am I?" my voice comes out in a harsh rasp from me puking.
"Kid, you are on the outskirts of Phoenix" the cop kneels down next to me. His voice has a funny ring to it as he tries, in vain, to suppress a southern accent.
"Arizona?" I blink a few more times before my I feel myself growing cold. Heart hammering in my chest, I try and remember how I ended up here.
"How did ya get these bruises?" the cop frowns as he sees the bandage on the side of my head.
The cop moves to touch the bandage, and a nervous chill flies over me. Pudgy hands flashes before my eyes, and I remember Mr. Allan's big hand colliding with my face. I stare down at my arms for a few minutes. Did Mr. Allan do this? No, I ran away. It has to have been at least a year now. Closing my eyes, I try to catch my breath as a low growl creeps into my memory.
"Scream princess!" the low growl suddenly turns into a high pitch giggle that rings through my head. For a brief moment, I see a man with purple bangs looming over me.
Folding my arms across my body, I shiver slightly. "I was attacked. I fought him off"
The cop raises an eyebrow. "I can see that" his voice is heavily laced with sarcasm, "Look kid, I know you're in pain, but I need to see your driver's license and your registration please"
License? Registration? It suddenly begins coming back to me. I had been trying to escape Mr. Allan, and I kept the car I hotwired. Trembling nervously, I move towards the glove department for good measure, hoping the cop will just let me go with a warning. Instead, he has now moved to the back of the car and is staring intently at the license plate. After a few minutes of pretending to dig in the glove department, he finally walks back around, hands on his hip. Shit.
"Young lady, you don't have any proper documentation, so stop fooling around in there" he gives me a knowing look and I avert my eyes, "You know how I know? This car was registered as stolen. It was taken from a junk yard in Boston about four months ago"
"Four months?" I say sharply, despite being pain, "No. I left about a year ago"
"Hey, I know you!" the cop takes a couple of steps closer to me, "You're that Swan kid who ran away. Your face was plastered all over the news for a few days! Last time you were seen, you were in a hospital. How did you end up here?"
"No, I left Boston a year ago" I try to say firmly, but my voice has become shaky. I have a brief flashback of myself in a uniform, carrying menus and trays of food. "I was…I was a waitress! I worked the mid shift at a diner!" My memory is coming back in little snippets, but not enough to fill the gaps.
Cocking his head to stare at the bandage, he raises an eyebrow at me. "Whoever hit ya sure did one hellavu job" Reaching out, he gently grasps my wrist in his hand, two big fingers feeling my heart beat. "Your pulse is erratic, and that's being nice. It's almost a hundred degrees but your skin is clammy and cold. What happened to ya?"
"You didn't want to know, that's why" I vaguely remember someone snorting. What had that been about?
"Heya, over here" the cop suddenly sounds so far away, "Don't you fade out on me"
"Who do you believe?" I hear a woman's voice, her voice so soft, and hurt, I can almost see her pout, "Me, or her?" There is a distinctive masculine voice, but I can't make out what he says, and I feel my heart begin to ache. Had I been on the wrong side of someone's relationship?
"Are you sure this is what you want?" I hear a softer, more intimate whisper. Skin tingling, I feel invasive hands crawl over me.
"Kid, are ya still there?" I feel the cop begin to shake my shoulder.
"I hate you!" a voice screamed. Was it mine? I had to have been the other woman! Feeling something akin to shame, I wrap my arms around myself, tears threating to spill from my eyes. I have another brief image of me slapping a man across the face.
"Hey, Ms. Swan!" I hear the cop's voice coming in clearer, "Ms. Swan, err, Ella-"
"Emma!" my voice comes out in a sharp rasp as another wave of nausea forms a knot in my stomach, "My name is Emma!"
"Yes, Emma" the cop says with a nod, "Well, Ms. Emma, I'm going to need you to come down to the station with me. That bandage on your head hasn't been changed in at least a few days. You're showing signs of shock, disorientation, and it's a damn miracle this little car here didn't go clear off the road since you're in no state to drive. Ya got somebody mighty powerful rootin' for ya"
I give a soft laugh, my nausea threatening to spill over again. Yes, I did. I know I did. But who? Staring off again, I try to piece the broken memories back together. It takes the cold slap of metal around my wrist to snap me out of my trance. Eyes blinking, I do nothing as the cop places me in handcuffs.
"I am also placing you under arrest" the cop says, giving me a sympathetic look, "Since the car is stolen, and because, if I remember correctly, there are assault charges concerning Senior Officer Jeff Alan, your deceased foster father. I'll need to ask ya a few questions down at the station"
Feeling my heart sink, I allow him to take me by the arm and lead me to the back of his car. I don't have the strength to fight and I no longer care to.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" I hear that intimate whisper one more time. Staring outside the windows, I feel numbness slithering inside my heart.
Eight Months Later
Estrella Women's Jail. Sounds almost like a monastery. I try to smirk at the thought, but I'm pretty sure it comes out in a grimace. Leaning against the bare wall, I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. This little gray room has no bars, like my first room. Instead, there is glass, giving me the feeling of being in a cage. How had everything come to this? When the officer, Officer Selmer, pulled me over, they said I had been in a much frazzled state. When I finally received medical attention, it had been determined that I had had a small concussion, and was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. It was this that had caused the judge to take an empathetic look at me. It had taken a week for the authorities to receive the news that my assault charges against Mr. Allan had been dropped, which only left the stolen vehicle. The judge had ruled that I was to take remedial classes during my time here to further my education in return for a lighter sentence.
I never fully regained my memory, and the little images that I have are so broken that it's difficult to know it they are pieced together correctly. Oh, I remembered my childhood, or most of it, but after I left Boston, there is hardly more than an empty blank spot. I remember I had had this reoccurring dream as a child. For the most part, I was always in a white dress, and there was a spinning a wheel, and someone had been turning the straw into gold. But I never see more than that and it's been a while since I've had the dream.
It's not so bad here. For a while, I was in a room with at least four other women. Now I am by myself for the next few weeks. Up at six am every morning, showers, and then breakfast at seven. Then, I go to the class I was 'volunteered' into doing. From four pm till five, we are allowed outside. Then it's dinner at six, lights out by eight. Once you get used to the doldrums of this place, it's not so bad. For the first month I was here, I tried scribbling down everything I could remember after I left Boston. I still get occasional snippets here and there, but nothing really substantial. Sometimes when I dream, I see a face of a woman with black hair and the kindest smile I've ever seen. I never can see her face completely. One other time, there was a man in my dreams, but before I could make out any features of him, I found myself being shaken awake. Apparently I had been screaming in my sleep. I never had a dream with him in it again, and for that, I am grateful.
Pulling myself to my feet, I drag myself over to the small, battered mirror on the wall. My hair has long since grown out and cut, leaving me with my blonde hair again. Leaning against the wall for support, I look at myself in the mirror. A pair of steely cold blue eyes peers back at me, along with a perpetual scowl. I barely recognize the stranger in the mirror as myself. Face twisting further in agitation, I quickly sweep away by blonde, now curly hair out of my face. The dreary blue jumpsuit I am given to wear only makes my blue eyes seem colder. There is a sharp twinge in my side and my hands swiftly wraps around my large, protruding belly.
After my previous injuries were attended to, it was soon discovered that I was less than two weeks pregnant. I think that had been the biggest shock of them all. My sentence was for a year, and I hated myself for ending up in a situation in which I was to give birth to a baby behind bars. I protectively wrap both arms around me belly. Luckily for me, Officer Selmer really took an interest in my well-being, and made sure I received proper medical attention here. That's how I learned my baby was to be a boy.
It gives me some comfort in the fact he'll never know where he was born. After it was determined I was pregnant, I had then decided to give the child up for adoption. No one should be burdened with the knowledge that they were born in jail. My due date is approaching quickly, but I refuse to be scared. Besides, one of the perks to being pregnant meant I had my own room for a while, even though I have nearly daily checkups with doctors and nurses. I remember the conversation I had had with the grounds nurse concerning the baby.
"Are you certain you want to give the baby up?" she had asked me intently, "What about the father?"
"The father, was a low life" I had told her cynically, "Trust me, I'm doing the kid a favor"
"Do you remember who he is?"
"I know enough that he was already involved with someone when I came into the picture" I had told her grimly, "Other than that, I believe he was a fire fighter. He often came into the diner I worked in"
The nurse had then reached out and took my hand. "And are you certain that a closed adoption is what you want? You do understand what that means"
"Yes" I said firmly, "And I'll only settle if someone wants to adopt him. I won't have him placed in the foster system"
Grip tightening on my hand, she gives a sad smile. "Well, you're in luck. There is someone from Maine who is looking to adopt a baby, a boy specifically. They know only the bullet points of your situation, and are willing to offer you a decent amount of money to get you back on your feet. They're from a decent part of town with enough money to make sure the child has a good life. Once you agree to this, there will be a background check to make sure it is a good home"
"Maine?" I had given a humorless laugh, "I think that's where I was. Will I ever get my full memory back?"
"It's hard to say" she had given me tight lipped smile, "You were hit pretty hard, and it's likely that you won't"
"Excuse me, Ms. Emma" a soft knock on the door instantly brings me back to reality. I see a nurse standing in front of my door, a large white envelope in her hand, "But the person in Maine has officially decided to adopt the baby. There is a contract in here for you to sign. They'll be a gentleman here for the baby within the next few days. Do you want to meet him?"
"No" I say flatly as I take the envelope from her, feeling suddenly suspicious. There is something I'm supposed to remember about contracts.
Gingerly, I skim through the contract, making sure I pay attention to every detail. It's true; if I give up my baby, I'll shall receive a fat pay check. There is a faint noise in the background, and I look up, mood souring when I realize the nurse is still staring at me.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Well, you need to sign it in order for the deal to be finalized" the nurse gives me a look as if I am stupid, and it irritates me to no end.
"Yes, I got that part" I say with a chuckle as I raise my eyebrows, "Do you really think I'm dumb enough to sign a contract without reading it first?"
This was not the answer she had been expecting and it knocks her off balance. She stutters for a few minutes to regain her composure. Giving me a curt nod, there is a loud beep as she exits my little room. Standing next to the glass, she keeps her head turned to at least give me the allusion of privacy. Rolling my eyes I go over the contract again and again until I am convinced I'm not missing anything. With a heavy, regretful sigh, I left the pen to the dotted line. This was for the best, wasn't it? She barely knew how to be a functioning person, let alone a mother. Hands trembling, I quickly sign my name before I can change my mind.
As if on cue, the moment I the pen leave the paper, I am seized by a powerful pain in my body. With a strangled cry, I fall of the bed as another intense wave of pain hits me.
"Emma!" I vaguely recall the nurse flying to my side, hand gripping mine tightly. "You're going to be alright!"
The woman turns and shouts for help. But my mind has become so hazy with the pain. Panting for air, I let out a guttural scream as the pain continues to come in wave after wave. It's not long before other staff members rush into the room. It takes two men to lift me onto a stretcher as I am whisked away to the medical area of the jail.
"C'mon!" some says next to me, "Push Emma, push!"
I have never felt such pain before and time seems stand still as I continue to push.
"Oh fuck!" I scream out between gasps for breath, "I can't do this!"
"You have to!" I hear one of the nurses scream next to me, "You're almost done. Just a little bit longer Emma!"
Gritting my teeth against the pain, I gave one last push, refusing to stop. My hair was plastered to my face from sweat, but still, I pressed on. After what seemed like hours, I great weight left my body, and I instantly fell against the pillows, sucking deep breaths. Finally, I heard the soft mewling of a baby, and laughter escaped me. My son was born. Letting myself rest, my world became hazy and I do not know how much time passed before I was finally allowed to see him.
"Would you like to hold him?" there was a nurse beside me, holding a tiny infant wrapped up in blue clothing.
I had, at this point, been moved to a different location. Lucky for me, I was currently the only woman in here since no one else had given birth recently. Swallowing, I thought for a moment. I wanted to harden my heart, but I saw his little tiny hand reaching out of his blanket, as if he was searching for me. I refused to cry. Nodding at the woman, she beamed down at me before placing the little bundle in my arms.
"I'll leave you two alone for a moment" with that she turned and left the room.
I stared down at the baby in my arms. Two bright blue eyes stared back up at me. His features were so tiny and wrinkled, that my heart couldn't help but crack ever so slightly. For a moment, we did nothing but stare at each, as if we were trying to make sense of what just happened.
"I'm really not sure what to do next kid" I said with a slight huff, "I'm not ready to be your mother. You deserve something better than me. And I'm going to make sure you have it"
I moved down farther in the bed and placed my son down next to me so that he was lying flat. He squirmed for a second, not happy about the sudden change in position. Snuggling down to lay on my side, I looked him over, every detail of his little face permanently ingrained in my memory forever. A little piece of the blanket fell over his face, and I raised my hand to move it. It was in that instant that he raised his hand to meet mine. Little palm outstretched against my own, my lips trembled as I felt tears beginning to build up as he wrapped his tiny hand around my finger.
"I love you" I said, voice shaking with an overwhelming emotion as I bit my trembling lip, "You hear me, kid? I love you"
"Emma?" Someone called my name, catching me off guard. I looked up to see the nurse standing at the front of the door.
"Yes ma'am?" I said coldly, hating that my moment with my son was interrupted.
"Well, it seems that the gentleman to come pick up your son has arrived early" the nurse pressed her lips together in a thin smile, "I can tell him to come back later, if you'd like?"
"No, it's fine" I said flatly. This was for the best and this had to be done. Gathering my resolve, I allowed the nurse to take my son.
"Excuse me, Ms. Swan I presume" I heard a man with a slight Scottish accent enter the room and I instantly avert my eyes. "If I may just have a moment of your time please?"
I turned my back, not wanting to see his face. I could hear the nurse give him my son as she exited the room, leaving me alone with this strange man who had come for my son. He was here to take my baby away from me. I wanted him gone and I didn't want to see his face.
"No you may not" I said, my eyes glued to the wall in front of me.
"I understand this is an emotional time for you" he continued on, ignoring me, "But I wanted you to know that you'll find your check as soon as you leave this place and-"
"And I don't care!" I cut him off, "I want you out and I want you gone"
"Excuse me Ms. Swan, but this was your choice" he tries to continue on. I hear the click of a cane as he moves closer to my bed, "I am only doing my job. I can sympathize with losing a child-"
"Take your pity to someone who cares. The job was for you to take my son away from me" I say as rudely as I can, hoping he'll just leave, "Not sit here and socialize. Now, you have my son; leave"
Time stands still, and I hold my breath, afraid he is going to come closer to me. After a few, tense minutes, he finally breaks the silence.
"As you wish" he voice is very heavy. Maybe he regrets being the unlucky bastard who takes babies away from their mothers?
With that he turns around and leaves the room. In less than a second, my son begins screaming. I can hear him all the way down the hall, his shrill, heartbroken cries to match the silent tears streaming down my face.