Repeat (A Once Upon A Time Fanfiction / Captain Swan's Daughter)

1

Abandonment wasn't uncommon in my family. Of course, growing up I didn't know this. I just presumed that my parents were too young to care for me or it wasn't the right time for a child. The idea that both of my parents had died in a tragic accident crossed my mind a few times,too. When I was really little, I used to pretend that my mother had been a beautiful princess and she was just on a royal holiday. I distinctly remember screaming in a boy's face when he told me America doesn't have a royal family. I had convinced myself that she would becoming to pick me up after her vacation, but after a few years I abandoned that daydream and started being more realistic. I was 10 when my fantasy of a Royal and happy family began to become a memory.I had been without a family for 9 years, and I realised that if my family wanted my they would have found me by now.

One day I decided to skip school and get a bus to anywhere. I didn't know mind where I went, as long as it was away from school and home. From the age of 13 I had been fostered by the Smiths. To onlookers, they looked like your average happy couple in a happy home. Julie has a perfect blonde bob and wore neat cardigans and fluffy jumpers with jeans. Paul had a haircut that said 'I'm a caring father who is part of my local school's PTA', wore sensible brown shoes, and casual shirts. The house and the front lawn matched their caring parent persona. The front door was bright red and always seemed to be clean.The house's exterior had white panels and dark green shutters were open next to each window. The flowerbeds had a selection of different coloured pansies, tulips, and roses. The flowers all looked so neat that it almost looked as if Julie had spent hours placing the flowers in a particular order, which wouldn't actually be so surprising. Behind closed doors, there was always fighting. Paul never opened his mouth unless it was to complain. He would complain about us kids,complain about the weather, complain about Rachel's cooking. Think of anything in the face of the earth that someone could possible complain about, and Paul had probably complained about it. Julie would react to the complaining and mean comments with aggression. It wasn't rare to see Julie lash out and hit Paul. She hadn't hit me or any other children, but there have been many times I thought she would. Neither of them has ever been there for us, helped us with anything, if had a nice conversation with us. I don't know why she ever bothered going to the trouble of fostering 4 children. I also don't see how social workers don't see that they're unfit carers,either. Any of us could have reported Julie and Paul at any time, but if we hadn't lived with them we probably would have ended up in a group home, and anywhere's better than a group home.

"Where is this bus going?" I had been sat at the bus stop for hours,and an old, faded blue bus has finally appeared.

"Storybrooke, Maine." The driver replied, taking his cigarette out of his mouth. I was sure smoking on public transport was illegal, but I didn't really care. Instead, I handed the driver $20 dollars and got into the bus. He then gave me a ticket and a handful of coins. I shoved the change into my jacket pocket, not bothering to count how much I was given. Except from two little old ladies, the bus was empty. I walked to the very back if the bus and took a seat.

I had no idea how long the journey would be, but I guessed it would be quite long. I had never heard of Storybrooke, so it couldn't be anywhere nearby. I shuffled my Ed Sheeran playlist and searched my bag for some Oreos and my locket. I wasn't the type of girl to wear jewellery. I was most likely to be seen in a pair of jeans, some converse, and a faux leather jacket, but this locket was special to me. My parents had given me this locket when I was little. They weren't very original with the idea, as everyone knows the story of little orphan Annie. Inside the locket was a picture of a mother and a baby. The photo was cropped so that you could only see the mother's long, blonde hair. The baby was me. Engraved into the locket was my name, Phoebe Jones.