Saving the Savior

Chapter One

AU: Hello! This is my new series, and yes, I am still writing "A Rose's Thorns." I've just been wanting to write something where Emma is the main character for a while because of the recent events on the show. Emma is turning dark and her character has consequently become more interesting in my opinion. This is going to be place in season three before Zelena was "killed." I hope you enjoy this story, I have no idea how long it will end up being. Warning: Torture, PTSD, mentions of child abuse, suicidal ideation, and possible self-harm.

Emma POV

I force another shot down my throat and it leaves a burning sensation in my mouth. Ruby is looking at me nervously now, hesitantly pouring me more drinks but I tell her to keep them coming. If there ever was a time to drink it would be now, with not knowing who the Wicked Witch is, to my confusing relationship with Hook. As if it wasn't hard enough for me to open up to someone already, my fiance' in New York turned out to be a goddamn flying monkey. Neal is gone as well so how can I trust Killian not to leave me as well? My vision is swaying and I find myself focusing on my breathing for no reason. I smile at Ruby and clumsily slide a ten dollar bill across the counter to her.

"Emma," she sighs, "I'm going to call your parents to pick you up, okay?"

I scowl and shake my head, "No, absolutely not, I'm fine." This is ridiculous, "I hate being treated like a child." I say the last part out loud accidentally but I pay no mind to the regretful look that crosses the wolf girl's face. I stand up and stumble out of the diner, grateful that nobody else is here at this time of night to see their precious savior in this state. I walk down the silent street and try to desperately steady myself on the edge of a building.

My eyes go wide as I feel as though a hand is clenching my stomach. I flip around and vomit into a nearby bush. Tears blur my vision as I dry heave and try to keep my gagging noises under control so no one would hear me. I spit on the ground and wipe my mouth but I suddenly feel a hand on my back. I jump and can't find enough energy after becoming ill to scream, but instead make a deep grunting noise. My eyes focus on the face of Zelena, my mother's midwife.

I let out a strangled breath of relief but my face settles into a grimace. Zelena would surely tell David and Snow about this and they deserve to just be able to focus on their new soon to be baby. I just wanted to escape reality for a while, not worry my pregnant mother. My eyes fill with tears and I assuredly look like a teenage girl caught sneaking alcohol.

"Please don't tell anyone!" I beg between sobs. Zelena simply smiles and places her hand on my forearm. Instead of feeling comforted, I feel a shiver of cold run down my spine, despite being warm from the liquor. I haven't liked people touching me for as long as I can remember so I awkwardly pull from her grasp and wipe away my pitiful fallen tears.

Zelena takes no notice to my discomfort and takes a steps closer until I am backed against the bush I threw up on.

"There is no reason to be afraid darling. I only want to help you," she says. I look for any sign of compassion or caring in her voice but find nothing but coldness. Her smile is unwavering but just as I'm about to make a run for it she lifts her gloved hand up to her mouth and blows a sparkling powder into my face. Then everything goes black.

I wake up, unable to focus on anything but the dryness in my throat. I try to sit up but my limbs feel paralyzed and heavy. I see nothing but blackness and hear noting but my own breathing. I briefly wonder if I'm underground but force the thought out of my mind when anxiety begins to eat at my core. I don't know how much time passes until I am able to move my toes. Feeling slowly returns to my body and I nearly cry in relief when I can move my arms.

When I try to touch my hands to my face I am held back by what I now realize are heavy chains clamped on each wrist. A cry escapes from my throat as I lay there for several more hours waiting for every last bit of the paralysis to leave my body. I am left with my own thoughts as I try to remember what happened and how I ended up here but the last thing I remember was Zelena blowing the powder into my face. Does she work for the Wicked Witch? Or even worse, Is she the Wicked Witch herself? Either way I'm screwed.

I am finally able to sit up and immediately follow the chain on my left hand to find it is attached to a wall. I feel around to see if I can find away to pull it off but cannot. I let out a huff of air in frustration as my hands find a handle of a crank. I pull it weakly but manage to move it about an inch when there is a clicking noise and a light pulling on my arm. I realize that the crank is for tightening the chains.

A flash of hope runs through my body and I try to push it so it would give me more slack but it won't budge. Fear replaces the hope that had filled me as images of what my captor is planning on doing to me that requires restraining me this way fly though my mind.

I reach over to my right hand to discover the same mechanism and collapse onto the concrete floor as violent, fearful sobs rock through me. When I run out of tears to cry I lay back down and try to think of things and people that make me happy to calm my post-crying hiccups. I ignore the sandpaper state of my throat as images of Henry fill my mind. Henry, he is still under the curse that Regina placed him and I under before we were sent to New York. How will anyone explain to him that I'm gone? Will he ever be able to remember? I start to hyperventilate and I force myself to think of something different.

I instead create a scenery in my head where I am at home with Snow and David. The television is on and we are eating pizza and watching a stupid show. Except we aren't really watching, we are talking about our days and making up for the lost twenty eight years. Henry is absorbed in his book and I'm laughing at an unheard dad joke that David made. Hook is sitting on the couch with my listening and smiling but not commenting, letting us have family time.

I fall asleep with the cold sensation of drying tears on my cheeks along with the false warmth from the living room.