N/A: Hi guys! thank you so much for the reviews, favs and follows! I'm going to explain a little how this story goes. So, I did messed up a little with the story we know, as you might seen Emma isn't the Sheriff and she's dealing with a lot of things in her life. We'll meet Regina soon but I don't promise she is the Regina we all know! So I'm sorry for the OCC but it's how this story goes. That being said, enjoy the reading.

P.S: This story is going to be with short chapters, just so you guys know.

Shoutout to my beta Caryn!

09/15/2010.

It's been a couple of days and I'm exhausted. Henry got the flu in his kindergarten class, he's okay though, a little bit fussy and messy, but okay. Work is hard, I hate to hide myself under the perfect masquerade of coldness, but I think I'm not ready to show my true self yet.

Sheriff Graham has been persistent lately. I haven't told you about him, right? He is the Sheriff of Storybrooke. He's a handsome man, short hair, brown eyes, and tall with an awful beard. I don't like him; not as a man, at least. He's trying to get into my pants, can you believe it? I know I'm attractive, but I don't want just sex, not right now. I need something else. I need love. Even if it's scary for me to love, because you need to know I don't know how to love very well. But once I love, I do it with all my heart and soul. I didn't have much love in my life. I thought Daniel loved me, and maybe he did at first, but then everything went bad. My mother, like I said, was not so fond of caring about me, and my dad, well he was better hiding behind my mother's shadow.

Dr. Hopper says a lot of things about this particular subject. He said I'm afraid, and he is right. I'm terrified of loving someone again. Daniel was my first love, and it wasn't what I expected. It hurts to think about him. It hurts a lot.

I'm not ready to tell you about him, but my life isn't really exciting otherwise. I always have the same routine; waking up to an empty bed, silent house, and cold mornings usually. You see, here in Maine it's mostly cold. I take hot showers, and it helps to at least feel better for work. Then I need to wake up Henry. He is always grumpy in the morning, but his fussy moments go away once I give him breakfast. He loves pancakes; my pancakes are the best, to be honest, blueberry pancakes or apple pancakes. When you're depressed, most of the time a hobby can help, and cooking is mine. So you could say I'm very good at cooking. I love food, it's one of the things that make me happy, and I think that says enough.

As you can see or read, my life is not very entertaining, but I could go on for hours talking about my son. He loves Marvel and fairytales, like I said he is very smart and learned to read too soon. Now it is one of the only things he does, besides playing video games, but I don't let him much. He needs to explore other things in life. He needs to go out and see the sky. He needs to do all the things that I don't.

But Henry isn't a sport kind of kid. I tried soccer and it was terrible, two broken bones and an unpleasant kid. I don't like to force him to do activities that are not fun for him. I kind of spoil him sometimes; he is the only thing that keeps me sane.

Dr. Hopper says I need to talk about my childhood, but it's hard because I didn't have really good memories. There was one, though, that I like to remember when Henry is mad at me, because it keeps me stronger. I feel miserable when he is mad at me, like I'm not enough, but I'm just human.

Daddy used to take me to ride on Sundays, and mother was always pissed about it, but we kept going anyway. One particular Sunday, daddy got sick and we couldn't go. I was very sad because every week I looked forward to the ride. You see, riding is my absolute passion, and I've known this since I first rode when I was eight years old. Riding is like flying, touching the sky while being on the ground. Horses lend us the wings we don't have. Galloping over the fields is the most wonderful feeling I can imagine. The power that's beneath you, it's just indescribable. I mean, when you haven't experienced it, it's hard to explain, but I'm trying to help you understand how wonderful it could be riding. Hearing the sound of hoof beats is so relaxing. Besides, it's so much fun. Not everything about riding is fun, though. I mean, connection is important, you know. You need to earn the trust of your horse; it's such a sensitive subject, but once you achieve it, nothing can break this bond.

My horse's name was Lorcan, and he was the most beautiful horse ever, brown skin, big black eyes and spread in his paws were little blurs of white. He was beautiful. So daddy was sick, and I ran away to our ride. It was the first time I went alone, and I can say it was the most liberating thing I've done in my life. Letting the wind blow through my hair while riding to the fields or the beach, it was just freedom. I miss it. I miss that feeling. It made me feel alive.

Mother was pissed when I got back, oh, she was so pissed. She hurt me, I have these scars on my chest. It was painful, but I guess what hurt the most was that she gave me something to remember how cruel she was.

"I told you not to disobey me, Emma." I was terrified. She was looking at me like I did something so bad.

"Mother, I…"

"Shut up! I told you to stay home. Your father is sick, and you just decided to go on that horrible thing you both do all the time. You're going to pay for this." I blinked through the pain of something hitting me, my chest hurt and my eyes were full of tears making my vision clouded. She hit me once, twice, thrice. It hurt a lot, and I asked her to stop.

"Mother, please." My eyes were cascading tears, and the pain made me feel numb. "Please, stop," I begged, but she hit me more. She hit me till I went unconscious.

I remember the pain like it was just yesterday. The scars were awful the next day. Daddy didn't defend me, he didn't say a thing to mother. I think that's what made me angry. My mother's relationship with me was always turbulent, she was cold and strict, and I wasn't the ideal daughter. I've always been wild, you know. Freedom was my thing. I liked to go on adventures, run in the woods. I didn't have friends, so I spent a lot of time reading and learning new things every day. So mother was hard with me, I was reckless or that's what she told me most of the time. Father didn't say a word. He loved me dearly, I'm sure, but he wasn't capable of confrontation with my mother. That was his weakness, and that killed me a little bit.

I wanted to be different, not like my parents. I always wished to be different for my son. I guess I've been doing a good job, because he is a good kid, but I'm not completely sure I'm a good mother. I care about him; I would give my own life for Henry, but I'm weak, and I don't know how to be strong. I don't know how to breathe sometimes. I don't know if I'm good enough or if I deserve to be his Mom.

I'm sorry, apparently I just know how to complain. I'm grateful, I promise I am. It's just a bad time. I hope it goes away soon.

I have to go. Henry is coming home soon, and I need to check on his homework and make dinner.

Love, Emma.