Fear and pain had been with Regina for as long as she could remember. She was afraid of her mother and her mother made her afraid to be herself. She was afraid to be different, afraid to be bold. Later on in life she feared losing her power, feared the braking of her curse, and feared losing Henry. And soon even those fears had come to pass. She had no magic, the curse was broken and Henry wanted nothing to do with her. Now that the worst of her fears were already in motion, few things scared her anymore. For a very brief period she could only name one thing really, that terrified her; solitude. She didn't want to die alone. She didn't want to die alone, and yet she hated everyone around her. The returned the gesture. She came to find that the only concept that horrified her worse was the thought of living alone. Living alone and being alone as a fresh, new fear unfurled in front of her.

The Enchanted Forest had so many terrors to display; Regina had seen ogres and found herself in the company of a wild band of trolls. She'd had her run-ins with bandits and a brush or two with spiders bigger than moose. Werewolves were almost common place and eventually she'd become one of the Enchanted Forest's terrors. But never had the forest flashed her with such a startling fate as Storybrooke was presenting her, via Mr. Gold. In all her life she had never heard a wail so forlorn and so inhuman. The sound hit her ear in the most unpleasant way. Confined in her teeny cell—that was feeling smaller and smaller still, the closer that thing came—all she could do was cover her ears and whimper softly to herself. Curled up on the bed, she tried not to whimper, tried not to make a sound—especially not a sound that was so meek and timid. A sound that didn't suit her at all. But she was shaking uncontrollably, she knew what was coming. They liked to claim that she had no soul but she did, and God, she wanted to keep it, however dark it was.

When the lights sputtered and died she knew that she would be next. They surged on only once more before darkness engulfed she and the room fully. Regina could see the moon filtering through the window and wondered if there was a person in the world who knew that she was in dreadful trouble. Even if there was, she couldn't see anyone leaping to come to her aid. That hellish howl droned out again, long and grim. This time she could detect guttural undertones that chilled her through and through.

It was near, so very near.

Instinctively she pushed herself further into the corner and deeper into the bed, as if that could conceal her somehow. There approached something darker than the darkness around it. A smudge of fluttering black that was complete save for two spots of red. To her those spots were more fear inducing than the blackness, because they were fixed on her. She stood, slowly and some wobbly as the cell door threw itself open. A violent clatter echoed about the room as the bars contacted the wall. She dared to edge forward an inch or two. Maybe, if life would offer her a little luck, she could muster up enough magic to ward it off and sprint as far as she could. She tried to the best of her ability but she just couldn't muster up that spark. She felt as ordinary as the girl she'd been when under her mother's thumb. The wraith didn't even allow her the time to slump to he knees before it extended its arm. A wet looking, boney arm that ended with long claws. The kind meant to rake at the face and leave a person weeping. Tattered cloth fluttered and billowed about that skeletal arm in a draft that wasn't there.

Regina might have uttered a word or two but it was lost to another wail. She didn't remember what she had whispered. She found it hard to think with her soul in the wraith's grasp. It was a frigid feeling, like no cold she'd ever felt. No cold of this world or in any of those she'd been. No, this was a hollow sort of cold. Icy tendrils licked and lapped at her soul, twisting about it like some wicked vine. She felt a tug that was both physical and spiritual. All the woman could manage was a strangled gasp. Regina had never seen a soul before, she didn't think she ever had a desire to do so. She pined even less for the sight now that it was her own soul before her. It was shockingly white, a cloud accented by blue, like meteor fire. She thought that it looked like a meteor as it leapt from her body into the hands of the wraith. Such was the last coherent though Regina had before an overwhelming barrage of sorrow befell her. The mayor was a dismal woman as it were without the aid of the wraith. With its help she felt downright depressed more void of hope than she'd ever been. Miles of melancholy memories stretched out before her playing all at the same time in one distorted blur of awful emotions. She mistook it for mercy, for the smallest blip in time, when those feelings fell away.

But then a bleak sort of nothingness set in. Something was missing. Deep within herself she sought it out. But she couldn't find it. She couldn't even remember what it was. And if she couldn't even recall that much, what good did it do her to search? That kind of resignation came with a numbness she couldn't find the drive to fill.

Regina Mills feel to her knees and watched a blanket of black retreat. She had been afraid of something…

Whatever it was faint residues of fear still pulsed within her.

And she was still very much alone.