Turn for the Worst

Chapter 50

Serious trigger warning: contemplation of suicide here. Please if you are depressed and feel suicidal, please seek help or talk to someone. it's never too late and the world needs you here.

Emma woke in the morning feeling as she always did now. Angry and sick. After taking the pregnancy test that confirmed her worst fears, she began to hide more and more in the room of this prison. She knew she couldn't have a child. Not here. What would become of this helpless baby and more importantly her? She was fulfilling Arthur's purpose for her, what would happen when the baby was born? Would he take it away and kill her or force her to raise it as their own, in some twisted family fantasy.

Emma stares out the barred window as the sun rises over the trees. Several birds on a nearby oak tree begin singing. The happiness and cheer in their voices made Emma very mad to the point that she picks up a nearby stone and chucks it at the window. The glass shatters instantly, leaving large shards everywhere and falling to the ground. The noise causes the birds to fly off in fear and the sound of shattered glass echo through the miles of forest. Emma then begins to beat the bars angrily, looking for a loose screw or something.

She accidentally slices her hand a bit on a shard. She pulls back and watches how the blood flows, dripping from her hand to the floor. She slowly pries a rather large piece still attached to the window frame. She holds the filthy glass in her hands, seeing her tired and frightened face in the reflection. She turns the piece over and holds it close to her wrist.

If I do it... she thinks. He won't be able to get the baby. A baby should not be born like this... and I'll be free of him for good.

Her hands begin to shake and tears flood her eyes. Several drops of blood from her cut drip onto the glass.

Facing death is terrifying in the most obvious way. To fall asleep never to wake up again, to be free of the horrors, stresses, and misfortunes of life, to be in eternal and peaceful sleep... She squeezes the tears from her eyes.

The thought of Henry... her son. The light of her world, the reason she got out of bed every day. What would he think when he found out his mother had killed herself to be free? He just might copy her actions. She can barely imagine the devastation on his face when she's brought in on a metal slab. He'd have nothing left...

It would spare him some of this pain, though... to at least know where I am now.

Then there was Killian, their relationship had barely begun when she was snatched from the streets, never to see his beautiful blue, hear his Irish accent, feel his soft lips on hers. Merely thinking about him sends her heart into a frenzy.

She thinks about Mary Margret and David, and their new baby, who would likely be born by now... How much they would miss her... be as devastated as her son and boyfriend over her death. Her friends, standing at her coffin, wondering why in the world she didn't try to escape and hold out for hope. Lastly, she thought of her unborn child. Trapped in eternal darkness, never even having the chance to live. That was much worse than what Arthur had done to her.

Emma swallows her pain and looks at the piece of glass once more.

This baby might be a product of evil, but it still deserves to live... she thinks to herself. But he doesn't...

She holds the glass the way one might hold a knife, the sharp edges would be good for her escape. She could hide behind the door and surprise him, or better yet, the closet! Emma shuffles to the closet as heavy boot sounds slowly begin to ascend the stairs. She holds her breath, putting on a brave face, letting her training kick in again. She would force him to let her go or in the end just kill him... she had to escape.