I fume to town, my fists and jaw clenched. Emma's supposed to have my back. She's a foster kid. And she has the nerve to arrest me? She betrayed her kind. I knew she wasn't being sincere at the docks. She hates me being here. She hates me. Well, I hate her, too. You don't stab me in the back.

I pick up a rock stabilizing a mailbox and stand in front of a storefront window. I clutch the sharp, rough stone in my hand. It's gritty. Hard. Its edges cut into my skin as I grip it tighter.

Emma Swan. Regina Mills. You have no idea who I can be.

I throw the rock.

The glass shatters.

Oh, my God. What did I do?

I dash from the center of town and go to a park. Safe in the dark, I catch my breath and walk across the wet grass. There's a pond with reflections of the moon distorted on the water's surface.

I smell beneath my arm. I haven't bathed in two days, and that includes today. I've done nothing like this—bathing in a public place. Then again, I've never broken a storefront window, either. Two windows shattered within the week. Talk about anger management issues.

I take off my clothes but keep on my bra and underwear. Even though I'm alone, I'm not that loose with my morals. I'm not a skinny dipper, nor will I ever be. No one's catching me naked outside a bathroom. What's private stays private. This is like wearing a bikini... in the freezing air of Maine.

I step into the cold water and flinch my foot away. It's ice. The air's frigid, too, prickling my exposed skin. If I catch hypothermia, it's not like anyone would miss me.

I go into the pond up to my ankles, shivering. I ease myself in. I gasp when the water touches my bottom, then get on my knees.

Shit. What if there're parasites in here?

I waddle a little deeper. I lean backward, and my body submerges underwater. I open my eyes and watch the rippling moon. It's not full, but it's still pretty.

My arms cross over my chest, forming an "X." I'm like Ophelia, floating to a new life. Hope fills my heart. Whereas Ophelia met her end, I will meet my start. Like Irene said, I will rise like the phoenix. Emma and Mayor Mills do not define me. I do.

I'm here to find my parents, not have strangers judge and manipulate me. Once I find my family, I'll never see these people again. I'll be happy, and they'll be wishing they were nicer to me. I'm Bella freakin' Palmer. I'm a dreamer, not a criminal. I dream of things that can never be. I don't destroy things that are... Starting now.

A figure appears over the water. I shoot up and realize it was a shadow.

"What do you think you're doing?" Mayor Mills's shadow, that is.

I splash when I turn around to face her. "Bathing."

She stares me down, disgusted.

"I smelled bad."

"That was you? I thought Sheriff Swan forgot to throw out her trash."

I crumple under her scrutiny while shielding myself with my arms.

"Get out of there," she demands, gesturing with her head.

I stand and wade out of the pond, covering my chest to warm myself up.

"At least you didn't go in there naked. I suppose you have part of a brain."

I shiver while she continues to attack me.

"I should report you, regardless. This is a public park, not a community bathtub."

"Please. I'm in enough trouble," I mumble.

"You are trouble."

"Please, Regina."

She narrows her eyes.

"Madame Mayor. I'm begging you."

"Why should I help you?"

"Because I'm a kid. A cold, scared, confused, and lonely kid."

"I thought you were staying at Mary Margaret's place."

"That wasn't... exactly true."

"Put your clothes on. We have a stop to make." She gives me one more distasteful look and walks away.

The water on my skin begins to soak through my clothes. I try not to squish around on Mayor Mills's fancy leather car seat. Usually, in situations like this, I'd run. Sometimes fight back. I can't do that now. There's no energy. No motivation to do anything but sit here. I'm drained. Done... Hopeless. I might as well go back to the foster home tomorrow. There's nothing left to do here without Henry. I needed him. And they've taken him.

Mayor Mills's arms are tense while she drives. Her eyes haven't left the road once. I can't tell if she's a super safe driver or avoiding to look at me. I look at her, though. She must sense it.

"Don't look at me," she says without tearing her vision away from straight ahead.

"Sorry." I avert my eyes and cower in the seat. With my head low, I sneak some side glances at her, unsure whether to say anything else. But I do. "So, w-what wer-were you doing in the park?" This is the most intense brain freeze ever. My hair is stiff and beaded with tiny ice chips. I don't want to know what I look like.

"That's none of your business."

"Well, you made a stink of having to leave your house when there are monsters around. And then, you walk alone in the dark?"

"I'm not afraid of these creatures. If anything, they should be afraid of me."

"But... you're a human."

She looks at me for the first time, scowling. "Don't make me sound powerless." She turns back. "I just didn't want to leave my house." I wouldn't want to leave, either. "My son needs me," she says with a sigh.

I say, my jaw heavy, "He's a... cool kid."

She smiles while staring at the road. "He is, isn't he?"

I grin while warm tears well in my eyes.

Not long after, Mayor Mills stops in front of a decrepit grey and white house.

"Where are we?"

"Granny's Bed and Breakfast."

My mouth falls open, and I face her.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," she says, getting out of the car.

The shadowed cottage stands by the side of this forgotten road. No smoke rises from the chimney, but yellow light seeps through the lower level's windows. Other than that, the inn appears deserted in these woods. A tall tree stretches one of its bare limbs toward the house like an old woman's hand, palm cupped toward the starless sky.

Inside, Granny sits behind a desk where cobwebs connect the various trinkets on top of it. The room is dark with a Victorian approach to decorating. It definitely appears to be a place owned by a grandmother. It smells like one, too—vanilla and cinnamon. The house may seem haunted, but it's warm and cozy. It makes me want to snuggle up in a thick wool blanket with hot chocolate and The Chamber of Secrets.

"One room, please," Mayor Mills says to Granny.

"I can't pay for it."

"Then it's a good thing the town can," she says, turning to me.

"You're gonna spend money on me?"

"Don't make it a big deal."

"Name?" Granny says, not looking up.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Not you." Granny juts her chin at me. "Her."

"Bella Palmer," I say.

Granny writes some things down with a fountain pen and searches through a drawer in the desk. "Welcome to Storybrooke, Bella Palmer." She hands over a distressed metal room key.

"Thank you. Thanks, Madame Mayor," I say, facing her.

"We speak of this to no one." She glances at Granny to make sure she heard. Granny bows her head in agreement. "This is for one night. Tomorrow, I want you gone."

She leaves, and I go up the steps while inspecting the intricate, tarnished silver key.

There's a swan in the design of its pendant.

I enter my room, which smells like a musty grandma's basement. But it's a good musty, unlike my room at the foster home. This is peaceful—welcoming. Or maybe I'm just weird.

I open the window and lean out. The forest surrounds this place. I'm like a Victorian girl, living in the woods... by herself. No family. I suppress my tears and shut the window.

My body plops on the bed and faces the ceiling. My arm lays limp above my head.

I've been lonely for too long. It ends tomorrow... Hopefully.