Regina woke up in a cold sweat. That dream had been so vivid.
But, that's all it was. A Dream. Her hand reached up and she let the steady beat of the heart in her chest calm her down. She got out of bed and walked down the staircase quietly, being careful not to wake the sleeping two and a half year old boy in the next room. She didn't need to deal with that just after a dream about her mother.
Regina got out a glass from the overhead cupboard and filled it with water. She leant against the counter as she took small sips, trying to forget what she had seen in her dream. She knew her mother could act pretty heartless but she never stopped to think that her mother could actually have no heart.
Suddenly she heard an upstairs window smash. She slammed her glass onto the countertop and raced upstairs. Almost instinctively now, Regina ran into Henry's room and scooped him up, cradling him against her chest. Carefully walking into her own room, she went to her bed and picked up the handgun she kept under her pillow. (just incase anybody remembered anything and decided to confront her.)
After checking, double checking, and triple checking every room, and even double locking every window and every door, Regina was satisfied that there was nobody else in the house, she carefully placed Henry back in his crib, smiling at the thumb placed firmly in his mouth.
As she went to leave the room to return to bed, she heard one phrase repeated again and again in her mind.
"Hello Dearie. I've come to collect."
Henry slept in Regina's bed for the next few weeks.
