The Monster Within

Chapter 30

"How many more boxes?" David grunts as he carries a cardboard box filled with dishes through the apartment lobby and out into the waiting truck.

"Just a few more," Emma assures him, coming out with a bag that seemed too heavy for her to lift, following him behind.

"Emma, you shouldn't be carrying anything!" Killian says, almost angrily as he takes the bag from her.

"I'm pregnant, not made of glass," she sighs. All day she's been trying to help load the moving truck, but they kept taking things from her and insisting she sit down to rest.

"You still shouldn't be doing anything to strain yourself," Ruby adds, adding a heavy reading lamp from the living room into the pile.

Emma rolls her eyes and heads back into the apartment. The last two weeks have been hectic, trying to pack everything up into boxes, renting the moving truck, gaining the keys from the landowner, setting the date to move, paying fees and other complicated things. She knows that moving can often take months, but since she was going to pop in less than three months, they had to speed things up. It was apparent to only her that the baby did not particularly like this stress. The heavy lifting and constant movement put a strain on her body and the tiny girl inside of her, was none too happy, constantly kicking her bulging stomach. She takes the stairs back up and stops at the doorway, she looks at the gold number next to the door, 205. It's a number she'd seen for so long, passing it while going to work, and again when she tried to find her keys when coming in at night. She taught Henry how to recognize the number when he was little and for a long time she thought she'd never see it again.

She pushes open the door and gazes into the empty foyer, a place that was now void of a welcome mat, boots to the left and a coat rack that often held her red leather jacket, Henry's coat, and favourite scarf. She continues walking, looking at the living room to her right. The TV, cotton couch, leather chair, coffee table, bookshelf, and a large gray rug that covered the hardwood floor were gone, nothing but a room with an electric fireplace and only memories. Emma tears up a little, thinking about all the times Henry had built forts out of the pillows and cushions, pretending to be a king, or scattered his Legos while he was building something. She stands in the spot where Neal knelt and proposed to her, in front of a roaring fire, and the place where Henry whacked his head on the corner of the bookshelf and needed to get stitches. Her mind floods with further happy times; staring the place where they put the Christmas tree every winter and opening presents on the floor, thinking of the times she, Neal and Henry would sit together and watch movies, the tickle fights that Neal and Henry had, reminiscing the days when she collapsed on the couch after work or slept there when Neal started snoring. Even the recent memories move her greatly, her movie nights with Killian and her son, kissing her beloved boyfriend on the couch, cuddling or having talks and all the times she sat watching TV or reading, while Henry fell asleep in her lap.

Her gaze goes across to the dining room where the family meals had been had. Many birthday candles were blown out there, happy holiday feasts, a place for her son to hide under while playing hide-and-seek and just those nights when it was just her and Henry, talking or simply sitting in comfortable silence. Of course, now it was just a tiled floor with a small lighting fixture above it, but it still holds a place in her heart.

The journey then takes her to the kitchen and all the adventures it endured. The time Henry and Neal tried to cook her breakfast in bed and almost setting the apartment on fire. She couldn't count how many times she found that her son had figured out a way to use the kitchen cupboards like a ladder and scale up to find the cookies. The loud racket of him banging pots on the floor and the smells of baking or cooking new dishes. Some turned out better than others and since Killian had come into their lives, it always smelled good. She gazes upward at the place where she'd kept her wine and other alcohol, the place she went when she was depressed or just needed stress relief from all the constant pressure she was under as a working woman and a mother. But most of all, she remembers feeling more at home here than almost anywhere else, even though all the appliances had been removed and it now smelled clean.

She goes further, down the hall where her room was. It was barren now, but she can remember the nights she, Neal and Henry sat up together, reading from his fairy tale book, or when he'd jump on them in the morning. The breakfasts in bed, the days of rushing to get dressed or prepare for date nights. Her deepest moments of intimacy between her and Neal, and now she and Killian, were held here. The place where she felt safe and could escape her troubles and even after her ordeal, this particular place gave her solace and comfort when she needed it most. She fights the urge to go and sit on the bed because it is no longer there.

The hallway was like a coffin, no family photos hanging from the walls. She pauses at the bathroom for a moment, thinking of the bubble baths she'd given her son and all the fun they had brushing their teeth together. The times she spent fussing over her hair and sometimes just staring at her reflection as if it was judging her about her life choices. She'd take moments in the morning and night to pause and think about who she truly was.

The last place she goes is her son's room. She pushes the door open and finds him standing there, amongst the now plain, blank walls. Gone were his posters, his bookshelf, his dirty clothes that littered the floor, the toys and costumes he used to have that lay in a chest in the corner. His desk piled high with homework and papers was now in the truck and the closet was empty, proving once and for all that there were no monsters in it.

Henry stands with a duffle bag and backpack over his shoulders. His eyes are filled with tears, feeling so sad and hollow. So many happy memories flashed through his mind and he hated that they were now all gone. He hears his mother behind him and tries to wipe the tears away. She doesn't seem to mind, she just pulls him into a tight hug, despite her uneasiness and the growing baby.

"It may just be an apartment, but for a long time, it was still home," he mutters into her shoulder.

"It was a home because you made it that," Emma says softly, rubbing his back. "And I thank you for making it so."

"It would've felt very different if you and dad weren't here to protect me and give me everything I needed."

Emma kisses her son's cheek and gently wipes away his tears with her finger. She too is crying, upset by the change, but she knew deep down they had to move on, start a new chapter in their lives and make a new home.

She keeps her arm around him as they stare at the room, empty to some, full of memories of them. They turn to see Neal standing in the doorway, very close to tears himself.

"Couldn't leave until we all said goodbye," he mutters, walking over, and hugging both Henry and Emma tightly. "Things may be different now, but no one can take away the times we had here... It may not have been much, but it was a home."

"Home is where your heart is..." Emma whispers.

The three stand in silence for a long time, closing this chapter of their lives, almost ready to start a new one.

They then walk slowly down the hall and stop at the door once more before Emma shuts it and locks it for the final time.

They're finally moving! It's a new start for them, but as you can probably guess, it won't be as happy with Arthur lurking around. Please read and review. Also, sorry I haven't updated in a while, been really busy at work and haven't found a lot of time to write.