Living Louder (OUAT)

Chapter One: Thrashing

Chapter One: Thrashing

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A seventeen-year-old Emma Swan, sitting on the windowsill of her foster home with her legs dangling outside the window, opened her book to the page she had bookmarked with a creased corner. She was reading Orphan, a story about a girl who runs away from her foster home, in search of her family. Emma could barely read the book; it was poorly written and the plot-line was junk. She had read better books than this by a five year old. Yet, Emma didn't want to put the book down. Quinn Wallaby, the main character, somewhat resembled herself.

"She's nothing like you, ya know," Emma heard a voice behind her, and jumped slightly. She hadn't expected someone to be up that late besides herself.

She turned around and was surprised to see Henry, a ten year old who had been there all his life, just like Emma.

"Rooster," Emma had nicknamed him that years ago, "go back to bed, it's late." Henry walked towards her and sat next to her.

"I read the book," he told her, marking the page she was on with one of his fingers before closing the book to look at the cover, "It's not very good. But we all, even me, wonder is Quinn really is like us. If we are like Quinn. But, Emma? You're not. I might be and and all the rest of them might be but not you. You're too good."

Emma gave him a tired smile, in an almost condescending way, "Go to bed kid, big day tomorrow." Henry sighed, before giving her the book, his fingers slipping through the pages, loosing Emma's place. He got off the window and walked back to his room, which was only down the hall.

Emma sat on the windowsill, holding the book in her hands, wondering why she cared so much about Quinn; she wasn't even a good character. And what Henry said was urking her. You're too good.

If there was one thing Emma knew about herself; she was not good. She was the opposite of good, if anything. She broke the rules, she snuck out, she did bad things all the time.

Emma looked at the battered cover of Orphan, wondering why anyone with common sense would read this crap, before whipping it into the street. The more she thought about it the more she realized how right-and wrong-Henry was. She may have done some bad things, but she's wasn't completely bad. All the kids there were too, they were all great. So, as she sat there, her hair moving ever so slightly from the breeze coming through the window, her legs lightly tapping the side of the Foster Care Center as they swung back and forth, her mind suddenly clear with the realization, she whispered into the cloudy sky; "I believe him."

At first nothing happened. Emma hadn't expected anything to happen, at least to her surroundings. She had certainly expected some kind of epiphany, but there was nothing. Just the rustle of the leaves as they swayed in the wind.

And then all hell broke loose. Well, at least that's what it felt like to Emma. She was just sitting on her windowsill when all of a sudden a giant gust of wind blew straight towards her, almost knocking her off. The branches of the trees twisted and stretched, almost as if they were reaching for Emma, who was now standing, still in her window.

She strained to see what was going on-not only was it night, but she was in the middle of Nowhere, Massachusetts, where having street lamps was close to scandalous-and suddenly realized that there was a small black figure moving towards her.

At a high speed.

Emma ducked, but the black figure, which was looked like a boy from where Emma was, grabbed her hand, and pulled her into the air.