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

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 56: 𝐿𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒢𝒾𝓇𝓁𝒾𝑒 𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈

"I'm a terrible person" is the first thought that pops into my head. Explaining this is difficult. I intended to rush back to the apartment and rip the letter to shreds before anyone could find it, so I wouldn't have to. Too late now.

Poor Mary Margaret, how she must be feeling? Emma must be on a mission to find my ass, and David...I've only seen him vulnerable when he told me about missing out on parenting Emma. The sternness of his face says he wants answers. He's mad I was going to leave without warning—that I left a note to do the job once I've gone. But the sadness in his eyes reveals he'd miss me if I went away. That's dangerous. It means the people of Storybrooke got attached to me. What's going to happen when I do leave?

I can't let them get too close. It wouldn't be fair. I'm not from here. I'm just a girl who stumbled into their lives. I wasn't supposed to stay this long, let alone sleep in the apartment. I can't stay. My parents are out there somewhere, and I'm going to find them whether or not they're in Storybrooke. They're who I've been searching for all this time. Why stop now?

But as David looks at me, I'm not so sure. Maybe what I've been looking for was right in front of me all along. I've been hunting for a place to call "home" and people to call "family." What if Storybrooke is home? What if these people are family?

That's not my story, though. That's not what I've told myself my whole life. I'm supposed to find my parents and fulfill my little girlie dreams. It's not fair the people of Storybrooke have to suffer because of my selfishness. I should've never let them in. I should've ignored their hospitality and friendliness. I should've lived up to how Emma and Regina viewed me when Emma locked me up at the station. Unfortunately, I can't turn back time and don't know what to do. If I couldn't leave today, how can I leave tomorrow? Or the next day? I'll have to suck it up and manifest the courage to cross over the orange line.

But right now, I need to explain all this to David.

"I see you got my letter," I say, trying to lighten the mood.

"You're leaving Storybrooke?" he says in disbelief. After reading my letter who knows how many times, he still can't grasp the idea. I seemed happy—and I was. Am. I don't know. It's complicated.

"I was going to, but as you can see, I didn't."

"Why? I mean, I know why. It's in the letter. What I'm trying to say is, why did you think not finding your parents meant you had to leave town?" So many reasons. So many reasons I can't say. I'm not sure I know them all.

It may be impossible, but I feel gravity. It pulls me down, deeper into the barstool. It places an anchor on both my shoulders, forcing them to droop. As soft as I can muster, so my emotions remain in a sealed bottle, I say, "David, I can't stay. I'm in Storybrooke to find them, and I didn't. I have to go. Maybe not today, but eventually, yeah, I'll have to."

"But you don't," he says, something shining in his eyes, and reaches out, his hand inches from mine on the counter. "You can stay here with us. At the loft."

"For two years?"

"For as long as you need."

Something rises within me. Hope. Hope that this can be home. Somewhere to stay.

Outside, a cloud shifts, and the morning sun pours in through the windows behind David. It basks the town in its light, making everything—from the buildings to the cars and electrical posts—as clear and bright as a Lightroom filter. It's beautiful. Peaceful.

But it's not mine. I don't belong here.

The cloud moves back, hiding the sunlight and blanketing everything under a grey, shadowy haze.