Chapter 6: Tragic
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"Why?"
"What?" Emma looked up at Felix, putting the rocks she held in her hand down. She was trying to light a fire. The first one was obviously luck. This one? Much harder.
"Why do you love him?" Felix asked, looking thoughtful.
"Who? I've loved more than a few boys in my lifetime." Emma joked, hoping to get a laugh out of him.
"Bae." Emma's breath hitched.
She wasn't sure she could tell anyone the hauntingly tragic tale of her first love. It was just so, sad.
"I-I can't." She said, going back to her fire.
"Emma-" Felix started, but was cut of by Emma.
"You really want to know?" She asked, cutting off whatever plea he was about to throw her way, "You really want to know the story of a girl who lost her heart to a boy who could never love her back? The story of a strong girl who, with just one word, one name, would become weak in the knees? The story of heartbreak, true, pure heartbreak? A story so tragic that even Satan himself would feel pity?"
Felix looked in her eyes, but instead of seeing anger, or sorrow, he saw fear. He saw a girl who, instead of being afraid of spiders, or snakes, or even dreamshade, was afraid of heartbreak. A girl who saw the unholy mess it created, and cowered back, in fear of what it would do next. Heartbreak had destroyed her life, and in return, she became unreachable.
"I really do, Emma."
xx.
A fifteen-year-old Emma Swan looked around cautiously, before shoving her crowbar into the door of a yellow beetle. She wiggled it around, before finally unlocking the car and sitting down inside.
She already knew how to drive. Perks of growing up on the run.
She shoved the metal bar into the ignition, and ultimately failed at starting it.
"Damn it!" She threw the crowbar onto the floor, and hit the steering wheel with her palm, careful not to hit the horn.
"Aw, I was hoping you'd get it," said a male voice from behind her. Emma jumped in her seat before whirling around to see a boy-who looked a little older than her-dangling the keys to the car around his fingers.
As soon as Emma realized she had tried to steal a car with the owner in it, she bolted.
Emma couldn't believe she was so stupid. She hadn't even bothered to check the backseat. He was probably taking a nap! But, no. She didn't even think about the fact that the owner might still be there.
The owner followed. She could hear him, running after her, his feet pounding on the ground.
But Emma was a fast runner. She sprinted away, careful not to look back, because she knew the dangers of that. Hitting a pole while running away from the owner of a car you tried to steal? Not that graceful.
Emma relied mostly on her ears for finding out how far behind the person was. She could hear a pair of shoes rhythmically slapping the ground, not so far behind her.
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