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

2

All I really knew about my biological parents was my Mother's hair colour. Blonde. My hair was a dark brown shade, and I had always wondered if that would be the hair colour my Father had. When I closed my eyes and attempted to picture my parents they never had faces. However hard I tried to remember what their faces looked like, I'm never successful. Some people believe they have memories of being a baby and looking out of their crib, but unfortunately I can't remember anything before I could walk and talk. My eyes were bright blue, and I sometimes wondered if it was my mother, father, or both that shared my eye colour.

I checked my phone to see what time it was. It was 9:05, which meant school had started. My carers would usually get a call at about 9:30 from one if be school's receptionists asking why I was absent, but by then we would probably too far away for anyone to find me. Not that they'd start a search party anyway. If Paul and Julie did start looking, it would be tomorrow morning at the earliest. Today was Wednesday, and Wednesday was their bowling night. Rolling a ball across a room to knock over some skittles was obviously more important than a teenage girl in the care's whereabouts.

I had always been good with directions and travel, so I guessed we had travelled about 30 miles. I tried googling how far we were from Storybrooke, but the town didn't show up on the map. It was weird that the place didn't exist according to the Internet, but I didn't question it. I didn't mind where I was going, so it didn't really matter to me if the driver gave me the wrong town name.

I sat in the uncomfortable bus seat for what felt like hours, staring out of the window. The bus wasn't going very fast, but the trees still appeared blurry as they passed the grimy window. I continued to stare at the surroundings while pretending I was in a music video for the Ed Sheeran song I was currently listening to.

"Hey kid." I heard the driver shout towards my direction. I knew he was talking to me, as the only over passengers were pensioners. I turned to face him and nodded to acknowledge him. "Do you mind getting off here? It'll be really heard for me to reverse at the end of that tiny road."

The bus was still moving, so I held onto the empty chairs as I walked down the bus to prevent myself from falling. I wasn't particularly clumsy, but I think anyone could easily slip while walking down a moving bus. The bus stopped. I thanked the driver before stepping off onto the road. There were no pavements, so I walked close to the curb. I didn't need to be worried about being in an accident, as the bus was the only vehicle I had seen for the last 10 miles of the ride. I watched the bus drive around the corner before walking down the road. There was a sign pointing in the direction I was going labelled 'Storybrooke', so it was a real place after all. The road was surrounded by tall trees. It looked like the small town was surrounded by a forest.

The road seemed to go on forever. It was a good 15 minutes walk before I came across a slight change of scenery. Across the road was a red spray painted line. The paint looked fresh, and I wondered why the line was so important. It was another ten minutes before I saw the first sign of life. There were a couple of small cottages at the side of the road. After passing the cottages I turned a corner to the main town.

The town looked somewhat old fashioned. There were a mixture of old brick buildings and cute buildings with neutral colours. There was a traditional clock and bell tower, which added to the homely appearance of the town. The streets didn't have many people walking up and down them. The only people I were a man walking his Dalmatian and a short haired lady pushing a baby. The roads were empty, except from a yellow car that drove away at the crossroads.

I had no idea where to go. I sat down and leaned back against a shop wall to quickly come up with a plan. I was only sat down for half a minute before a middle aged man with a neat suit and walking stick opened the shop door.

"Would you mind not using my property as a resting place?" The man asked rhetorically. He had a Scottish accent, wore a sharp suit, and his appearance and body language didn't fit in with the domestic vibe of the town. I apologised and stood up. I put my arms through through the straps of my rucksack before setting off to walk down the street.