The Girl With Lost Memories - Parts 1 & 2 (An OUAT Fanfiction)

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 23: 𝒜𝓃 𝒰𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒱𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉𝑜𝓇

Everyone is at the loft together. We beat the downpour by a little over five minutes. David and Neal get the fire going in the furnace, Mary Margaret makes the tea, and Emma and Regina chat in the middle of the apartment. Henry and I sit on the sofa in the living room while rain patters against the window behind us. His storybook's wide open on his lap, and he flips pages one after the other.

"How many times are you going to read that thing?" I ask.

"I never finished. This thing is huge."

"You never finished? I thought you had this book for years."

"Yeah, but life gets in the way. You know how it is."

"I do, but I read a certain seven books about a hundred times, and I started when I was ten. Put them all together, they'd be about the same size—if not bigger—than your book."

"And how long did it take you to read each one?" he asks, taunting.

"About a week. More or less. And it's taking you years to read this beast? Once?"

"Why don't you read it if you're so efficient?"

"Nice try," I say, sweeping my side bangs from my eye. "I'm not falling for your fantasies like everyone else. I'm too smart for that."

"Or you have too much pride," he jests.

"Insulting me is not gonna make me want to listen to you."

"You're just bitter because I'm grounded and can't help you find your parents."

"It's not like you were helping me much, anyway. I did most of the work myself."

"It's possible I was wrong. Maybe your parents aren't here, after all."

My arms pull at my shoulders and are about to fall from their sockets. "Why would you say that?"

"We haven't found anything. No one's seen them."

"That doesn't mean they're not here." I make an exasperated noise. "Why would you bring me here if you weren't sure?"

"Because you belong in the town full of fairytale characters."

"Oh, my God. You seriously brought me here because you think I'm a character in your book? You're mental. Insane. Are my parents here or not?"

He takes a while to shrug, leaving his shoulders up by his ears for a bit. "They have to be. They're characters, too."

How am I supposed to trust him now? He said he brought me here because my parents are. Now it's because I "belong" here? What if he lied? What if my parents aren't in Storybrooke, after all? No. They have to be. I know it. I've seen too much to ignore it. People know Aurora and Phillip here. They have to be here. And I'll do whatever it takes to find them without Henry's help. Anything I can do to avoid going back to the foster home.

"I'm done talking to you." I join Mary Margaret, who ignites a match to light a candle under the loft.

As I get closer, a pleasant fragrance fills the air. It's woodsy. Crisp. It smells like the ocean side—salted and invigorating.

It's coming from the candle. It has to be. The scent didn't exist until Mary Margaret lit it.

"Is that a scented candle?" I ask.

"Yes," she chirps. "I bought it the other day."

I lean over the candle and hover my nose over it. The aroma's more potent when I sniff above the flame. The teardrop of fire dances and flickers around the wick.