THE STAIRCASE

By RED CHARCOAL

CHAPTER ONE: IT WAS ME

Warnings: Non-consensual sex. This is dark. It's my first fic. So for themes and novice errors, you have been warned.

Regina Mills had always rather admired her mansion's staircase. Sleek and polished, it curled beyond the entrance up to her rooms, not unlike the unfurled tongue of a dragon. And having Maleficent as a friend, she knew all about that. A memory flashed of the hard wood beneath her knees and her breasts impacting against them. She gasped and waited for the flashback to recede. She could still smell her cologne, and feel the cheap pleather pressing into her back.

The brunette sucked in a breath. She was still lying on the floor at the staircase's base and she stared back up at it. Everything was different now. Changed. She felt broken by what had just happened, appalled and enraged, dirty.

Trembling fingers scrabbled at the top half of her suit, trying to pull together the scraps of material on her blue/gray blouse. The same shirt the blonde had worn once before cockily returning it.

That had been then. When they'd had some sort of… something ... between them. That was now gone, ripped from her like her once beloved shirt.

Emma Swan had touched her in ways she had allowed no one to in her life. And she had done it without permission. Right there - on the stairs. Regina squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears gathered in the corners not to spill and tried to pull her skirt back down, only too conscious of the fact her lacy red underwear was now shredded and lay five feet away by the banister.

Fuck Emma Swan, her mind growled as she tried to sit up on her bruised and complaining knees. Her stockings were laddered and a mess.

She tried to focus on her white-hot anger. It didn't help. The tears spilled anyway.

ACROSS TOWN

Emma Swan lifted her cell phone with shaky hands, swallowing anxiously. The number rang three times before answering.

"It's me," she said hoarsely. She swallowed again, her throat dry. "I need you to do me a favor. I need you to lock someone up."

"What? Who? Why can't you?" the breathy voice asked.

"Ruby," Emma sighed heavily. "You need… it's me. I need you to lock ME up. I have done … something. Very bad."

"You?! Come on Emma, what on earth could you ever do? What are you charging yourself with anyway?"

Emma clenched her eyes tightly. Fuck this. Fuck all of this. It wasn't supposed to have happened like … that.

"Emma?"

"Assault," the blonde said finally - her voice a thin husk. She paused. "Sexual assault."

"SHIT! Who did you… I mean. HELL! Who was it Emma?"

"I… there was a mistake. I…"

"Emma - tell me. And they might need help, so - spit it out."

"Mayor Mills."

There was a long silence.

"I hurt Mayor Mills." She said it in defeat. She felt nauseous. She swallowed with difficulty trying to keep down the bile.

"Oh Emma," Ruby said in an anguished gasp.

"Yeah." The blonde couldn't think of anything else to say. She had done a terrible thing. There had been an awful mistake, someone had set her up - but still. No excuse. She should have realised. She should have known. As if the mayor felt squat for her.

"So I'll be at the station in a minute. Meet me there and lock me up."

She clicked the phone off. And without warning her stomach's contents rose and she threw up at the side of the road.