Black and blue bruises covered her arms and legs, it was getting harder and harder for her to cover them. She's come to the conclusion that makeup just won't cover the significant blemishes anymore, and has resorted to wearing long sleeves and pants; in the summer. Of course she gets questions and concerned looks, but she usually just shrugs it off with lame excuses such as how she has this rare blood disorder that is in no way harmful, but it makes her cold, like all the time.

She's sick and tired of lying and pretending she's fine. She wants out, but everytime she tries he won't give her a choice. Everytime she turns towards the door, his hand finds her arm and forcefully pulls her back, leaving a mark. He begs her to stay, he'll tell her that he's changed, that he hates himself for what he did to her; in reality, he doesn't mean it. She knows she should turn away, and that he's just lying so he can keep his fuck buddy, but there was something about the way he pleaded, and the way his eyes seemed to say something she just couldn't quite comprehend, and that's what made her give in again. She hated herself for doing this, she hated herself for letting him win. All she ever wanted was for someone to look at her the way her friend David looked at Mary-Margaret, but she didn't think she was worth anyone. She was worthless, or so he told her. No one would ever love her, thus the reason she stayed. At least this way someone would pay the littlest attention to her. So what? He abused her, but at least someone was there.

Her best friend could read her like an open book, and it scared her to death. He knew the real reason why she wore long clothing in the dreaded heat. Sure, he'd never tell her he knew, or she would never trust him again. But, he was concerned. Anytime they were alone, his eyes would dart to her covered arms, and he would observe the way she held her arms close to her sides, and the way she looked so small. She wasn't always like this, he'd think to himself. They've been friends since diapers, so he knew almost every little detail on her body. He could always tell when something was wrong. For the past year, she slowly shrunk. He remembered the way she used to stand tall and not take shit from anyone. He remembered how vivid her eyes were, and now they're puffy and dark. He remembered how excited she would get when she talked about something important to her, now it's hard to get her to talk at all. He missed his best friend, but he wasn't ready to leave. No, that's what she expected him to do. She even told him one day that everyone leaves, so why didn't he? He tried to answer but she fled away before he had gotten the chance to.

As the two friends sat on the couch watching some irrelevant movie, his eyes couldn't help but stare at her long blonde draping over her shoulders. His eyes looked at her up and down, this wasn't the same girl he knew at 16, the one with the bright smile and happy eyes. Not one bit, but he was every bit still intrigued by her. He eyes fell to her arms, like they usually do, only something was different. Her sleeve was hitched up the slightest bit, and his assumption was proven correct. It broke his heart to see the faintest mark on her wrist. It was an old one, but a one more yellow shoved its way into eyesight as she shifted. A single tear slipped down his face. How could she let him do this to her? A million questions and thoughts rushed to his head, but the only thing he wanted to do was make sure was okay.

"Swan," he tried to make out without his voice cracking. She shifted so she would be facing him. Her face looked so innocent, so pure, how the bloody hell was she able to keep the act up? He shook the question out of his head and looked directly into her eyes. She turned away, not wanting someone to figure her out. But, it was already too late. He's known for some time now.

"Swan, look at me."

So she did.

Instead of speaking, he reached his hand out to her arm, which she pulled away immediately. it pained him to think that she would do that. They used to trust each other with everything they had. He went for it again, trying not to be too forceful, because he knew it would bring back too many memories.

"I need you to trust me," he sighed as she kept her arms close to her sides as always. He knew it'd be difficult, but he needed to at least try. He stared sternly into her eyes with a pleading look and she finally gave into his ocean blue eyes. Slowly, she gave her arm to him, and he caressed it softly. Without trying to hurt her, he gradually pushed her sleeve up. His breath hitch in his throat, her whole arm was black and blue, not a single spot of her pale skin was exposed.

"Did he do this?" He clenched his teeth. Of course he knew the answer was yes, but he needed to here it from her.

"Killian," she tried.

"No, I need to know, did he?" She didn't reply, but he did see the faintest nod as she turned away and got up. "Emma." He never called her by her first name, and that's what got her to turn around. She had tears streaming silently down her face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered faintly.

"I just need to know one thing," he ignored her apology, for he knew she didn't mean it. "Why are you still with that bastard Neal? All he does is hurt you and tear you down. For over a year now, I've seen you gone downhill. You aren't the same the person I fell in-" he stopped short and took a breath. "You aren't the same girl I know."

"People change," she glared at him, not wanting to get into this right away. She knew he was right, but this wasn't the place or time for it. Frankly, she didn't believe it was any of his business.

"Just tell me why," he let the words escape from his mouth frustrated as he rubbed his hand over his face, through his hair, and scratched at his neck.

"I can't," she whispered and walked out the door, possibly forever.

She could, and she was so willing to tell him, and that scared her. He was so easy to talk to, she always forgot about things with Neal when she was around him. She could be so open with him, so free. She needed to keep her walls up, that's how she got into the bad relationship with Neal. Emma couldn't let them down, not again, not even for her best friend.

A storm was raging as she walked home, it wasn't like it was far, but it was far enough to be scared each time thunder roared. Water was everywhere, everything was blurry, she heard cars beeping at each other on the road. A perfect scene to represent her emotions, how fitting, she thought. She opened her door to the apartment and sighed of relief that she was finally home. But it wasn't, not really. He was her home, but she was with someone else, someone who treated her poorly. She mumbled a few cuss words before finally screaming and going insane. She tried to tear her hair out, she tried flipping over furniture, throwing anything she could; but nothing could stop her mind from running. Her head ached from all the voices jogging over and over. They all said different things, but they all came to the same conclusion, she searched her house for a piece of paper and pen and got to writing.

He was confused. All he ever wanted was her to be happy; all he ever wanted was to be with her. Yet, he thought she deserved better than himself, so he never tried. Any chance he got, he tried to implant her image into her brain, always worried she'd get fed up with him and leave, and tonight, it actually happened. He pushed her too far, this time. Usually he pushes her for the better, and that's all he wished to do, but there was a sore deep down in Emma's body, and he stabbed it with a knife. He only thought that she deserved better than Neal, and she shouldn't take that shit from him. He tried to show her that, but maybe she got the wrong impression from him. Maybe he should apologize. No, he should definitely apologize.

Running in the rain and trying not to slip was very difficult, as he soon found out. The wind was picking up and he was losing momentum. It seemed as if he would never get to her apartment at that point. It was two blocks away, since when did it take that long to get there?

Heavily breathing, he pounded on her door. He waited a few seconds, and she didn't answer. He tried again, still no answer. Instead of pounding another time, he tried the door knob and barged right into her trashed place.

"Whoa," he muttered looking around.

Papers were everywhere, furniture was tipped over and out of place, everything was disorganized. Not a messy person disorganized, but a mental person's definition of it. He was concerned, for she was usually such a neat person. Something inside of him clicked and fear grew on his face.

"Swan!" he called out. He wasn't expecting an answer, but he was hoping for one.

He didn't know where she'd be, but he had a pretty good guess. He led himself to the bathroom door and braced himself by taking a deep breath before opening it. Sure enough, there she sat, with tears spilling over her eyes and down her face. She was surrounded by a pool of blood, and a few empty bottles of pills. Perched up behind her, on the bathtub sill, was a little piece of paper with her scribbling on it. All she did was look at him, even more tears threatening to spill over. He pulled out his phone and called the paramedics before sitting down next to her. He didn't mind the blood, all he cared about was her. She held her head in her hands, shaking. Why aren't I gone, yet? She thought and blubbered even more, if that was possible.

Instead of saying anything, he put one arm around her petite frame, held her close, and snatched up the paper behind them. On the outside it read: Killian.

Dear Killian,

I'm sorry. I am so so sorry, you don't understand. I know you'll come over to apologize, because that's the kind of person you are, but don't. Do not apologize, you did nothing wrong. This is all me here. I decided it was time for me to go, don't blame yourself. Hear me out.

You'll probably find me in the bathroom on the floor on in my bedroom hanging by the fan, either way, I know this is hard on you. We've been friends since diapers, and we knew everything about each other. You can read me like an open book, and honestly? It terrifies me. I've always tried to hide all these emotions inside, but you always were able to get them out of me. You were there for me when I jumped from foster home to foster home, you were there for me, always. I don't know what I'd do without you.

When I met Neal, he was smart, kind, and funny. I fell in love with him, or so I thought. I met him around the same time I discovered I had feelings for you. Maybe I loved him, or maybe I loved the idea of him, and that he would get my mind off of you. To this day, I don't know which one is true, but I feel more and more like it's the latter.

My whole life, all I wished for on my candles or shooting stars, was to be wanted. With Neal, it felt like for once I was. Then he started to drink, and it all went downhill. When he was sober, he was a lovely person, but when he had even a sip of alcohol in his system, he was a menace. You saw my bruises today, that's been going on for a little less than a year, now. I'm fairly certain you knew something was up. I know I've changed. When you're with someone, they're supposed to bring out the good in you, not the bad. I've tried to leave, trust me Killian, I tried. Every time I did, though, he would hold my arm a bit tighter and his eyes said something that his mouth didn't. I never knew what it was, but I think I do now. I think his eyes were telling me to run. I always thought his eyes pleaded me to stay, but I was wrong.

Have you ever seen the way David looks at Mary-Margaret? That's what I wanted. I wanted my own Prince Charming to come and sweep me off my feet and take me away from Neal. You tried, I honestly believe you did. But I couldn't let any false hope interfere with this situation.

My demons are in his voice, and tonight they just wouldn't shut up. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, it seemed as if it was the only option, maybe it was, maybe it wasn't.

I don't know what will happen after I do this, but I hope you know one thing, Killian. I do love you. Now, I want you to go out into the world, travel to exotic places like we've always planned, find a beautiful girls and give your heart to her. Plant surprise kisses on her face as often as possible, make her feel loved. I'm not asking you to do this, I'm commanding you to. I'll be watching, and making sure you do.

Goodbye Killian,

Emma Swan

It was his turn for tears to run down his face, he looked over at her frail body, slowly losing its life. If only she knew, that he loved her too. That he was always staring at her, and had that same yearning look and doey eyes that David had towards Mary-Margaret.

"You bloody idiot," he cried. "I've loved you so damn much since we were 16 and you stole a bottle of you foster family's rum to come and sit up on the roof with me." He took a shaky breath. "Don't you fucking dare leave me tonight, Emma. I love you too much." He planted a small kiss to her temple as he felt her heartbeat come to stop. Soon, he heard the sirens come and before he knew it, she was taken away from him, forever.