Chapter Five~

Emma's POV

I sit at the table, a pen in my hand, laughing bitterly at how stupid this is.

Write her a letter with all our important memories?

That's impossible… there are too many. Too many memories… too many ways to explain how much she means to me…. Too much to feel, to explain.

And besides, some of these letters she can't even read. Knowing how we hated each other, how twisted she once was, how dark her past was; none of that will help her regain her memories. And even if they did, I can't… I can't see her become that broken again.

So why am I doing it? Why am I sitting at my desk with a pen in my hand, ink dripping onto my blank sheet of paper anyway? Maybe it's because the doctors told me it would help her… but maybe it's just the fact that I need to let out all these memories that eat at me every moment I'm awake.

I sigh again, running an angry hand through my hair.

And I begin to write the first letter.

You turned to me, and your face was bitter in the moonlight that poured down from the heavens.

You were so angry. I could see how much you hated me pouring out from your soul.

And how much I hated you poured from mine.

And yet…. I didn't hate you. It was a twisted hatred. A hatred so deep that it was breeding with love. Mixing and reforming into something untangible, unthinkable, unknown. No longer hate nor love…. But emotion.

If I had to explain how I felt about you, that would be it:

It was emotion.

It was real.

So very, very real. The realest thing I'd ever felt.

But… it wasn't something that I could explain. It wasn't just one thing.

I hated you at one point. I hated you with a fiery passion. I hated you so much that my chest was lit with a fire that consumed my whole soul. But there was a part of me that couldn't hate you either. There was a part that wanted to save you from your darkness. A part of my soul that screamed in agony; cried in unison with yours; a part of my soul that watched in helpless horror as your light drowned out into the oblivion of your darkness. And I think it was this horror—this repulsion—that made me love you. I was so horrified that someone so good had been turned into a broken woman who had nothing left but the stains that reeked with the blood of her past.

You were broken. Your soul, your heart, your mind were contorted by society, by life, by the world, until nothing but a ghost of your former self remained. But your soul, your heart, your mind, were once whole and good and beautiful. They were pure and innocent. And I saw in that moment that they still could be that way, with a bit of repairment.

Your light had been drowned by the world's darkness….

And isn't that terrible? What horror it would be to become the person you fear the most.

I think it was this sympathy, this empathy, this agony that made my soul connect with yours. I just wanted you to start over, to be given another chance….

We faced each other, our very souls pouring out of our eyes, sharing our pain and horror and hatred and love for each other in that moment.

"Miss Swan," you spat out at me, continuing our earlier argument. "What do I need? You ask it as if you can help me…. Let me tell you, you can't."

Your voice was supposed to be strong, to convince me that you didn't want my help. But all that it did was just cement how desperate you were to change. Desperate to the point of hopelessness.

"No one can help me," you cried out, each word stressed & quiet & strained. Your words came out as a whisper, as a pained & violent hiss. "Emma, I can't change. I'm a monster."

The rain started to pour down at that moment. I wanted so much to tell you that I was going to help you, to tell you that I knew I could. But I couldn't over the sound of the rain.

"Stay away from me," you'd managed to shout over the rain.

I should have taken that as proof that you hated me. But I didn't. I knew that's not what it was. It was you protecting me. Protecting me from your darkness, shielding me from yourself, hiding from me just how broken you really were.

Your face softened, and in that moment I knew I was in love with you. Tears brimmed your eyes, brimmed mine, and we were both speechless. Too broken to speak. To talk… to breathe.

And why is this the first memory I write for you, Regina?

Because you're not a monster.

You've been darkened. Tainted.

And yet, through all your pain and torture … you've remained pure. There's still a part of you that cries out against the darkness. A part of you that doesn't want to be the monster you fear you've become. A light that shines through the darkness. A breath that escapes your lips before you're pulled under the ocean and drowned.

Regina, I love you. So much. You are so strong, so brave. Not only have you lived through your agonous life, that part of you known as innocence and good survived through it as well.

And I think that's why that moment stands out to me. At that moment, you were still darkened. I still didn't know how to perceive you. My mind was still trying to tell me that maybe you were the monster you said you were.

But through the rain—through your words—I heard something. I heard a tiny voice screaming out against it all. A tiny voice telling me who you were—not a monster—and that you needed to be saved. And I promised myself that the only thing I ever needed to do in my life was to save you. And I also promised myself that I would do anything, and I mean anything, to save your life. Even if that meant sacrificing my own. And so that's when I first started liking you, giving you a chance, trying to help you.