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She feels no control of her body.
She feels no safety in my arms.
Regina knew that Emma wasn't sleeping. Too often, she jolted awake in the night, only to find the other side of the bed cold. She didn't mention it though, as long as Emma came home she would say nothing.
It was painful to realize that she could not help her lover. Every night when she encircled Emma in an embrace, and felt Emma shaking like a leaf, there was a slow sorrow that came with the knowledge that the blonde did not feel safe. It was worse, however, to find the younger woman curled shakily against a tree in their backyard, staring at her hands as though she'd never seen them before.
On some of these occasions there were scorch marks or dead animals, but it was usually just Emma. Who looked smaller than Regina had ever seen, and every bit the child she was accused of acting like. Regina could do nothing then, but sit with her in silence. She had never been a woman of words.
Breaking if I try conveying
The broken love I make to her.
Even the sex was different now, desperate. Regina had assumed that Emma, like Rumple, would become more possessive. She had assumed wrong. Instead, Emma needed to be possessed. She encouraged Regina to mark her, craved her constant touch. Sometimes Regina would swear that even the air had a dark tinge.
It made a twisted sort of sense if Regina thought about it. Rumple had been afraid that people would leave him. As a result he, like herself, had held onto them tighter. Emma was afraid of abandonment, desperate to be wanted. Regina could only give her what she wanted, she had never known what to say.
Screaming the name of a foreigner's god,
The purest expression of grief.
When Emma finally left, it was like touching a socket. Knowing the jolt is coming, but still being surprised when it does. Emma had been getting worse for weeks, but Regina hadn't expected to wake up to an empty bed in the chill of the morning.
Not entirely empty. Emma's usual spot was occupied by a single piece of paper. The paper was creased, as though it had been crumpled up then smoothed out, and warped where tears had dried. She had blinked slowly at the note, her stomach slowly sinking as her brain struggled to catch up to her eyes. Emma was gone.
Regina hadn't practiced a religion in a long time, in this world or the last, when Emma left. She had never been to the services at the convent, never used their curses, never celebrated their holidays. Now though, she screamed to every god she knew, even some she didn't. "Bring her back!" She screamed hoarsely, "God," she almost spit the name. "Bring her back." There was nothing else to say.