Desperate Souls

Chapter 3: Disintegration


Mr Gold felt he now had to explain his motives more carefully, and as he licked his lips sensually while he placed the glass back onto the dining table his eyes never failed to meet hers. His voice became hypnotic, low and humming with his Scottish accent ever rasping. His brown eyes became dark pools of lust and feelings long since hidden and denied, iced with memories of painful times. But there was also hope in them, swirling as if to capture Emma and drown them in this bath of pure hope for a better future. And if not necessarily better, a future that would at least hold someone else. A future promising a family life.

"I don't doubt I should be telling you how other people think about me. They mostly share the same opinion you held over me. I always thought it would be for the better to have my son raised by people who would be unbiased when they would hold him in their arms. By people who were not shunned by society."

With a shrug of her shoulder at Gold's words, Emma mumbled, "Well yeah, but you don't give them a chance to see you differently Iif I didn't know any better, I'd say you like being feared by the public eye. I mean, if you really wanted people to like you, you'd try harder to tell them what you're telling me."

"By someone," Mr Gold continued, "a mother, who would nurse him and take interest in his education, and who would guarantee that one day she'd step so much out of line that the birth mother would be able to take her son back and that I would be there, giving him back the family he always deserved to have."

His finger gently brushed the cold surface off the glass. His gaze was still intent upon her face, observing her for any signs of the drug to do its work and render her unable to fight him. His lips parted ever so slowly and a low throaty sound escaped him as he wiggled in his chair, repositioning himself.

She had quirked a brow at his story about a foster mother versus the birth mother and took another sip of water, then shook her head. "Wow, small world. I could really relate to that woman in so many ways. But you say you're going to help them reunite? You must have quite a few broken families knocking down your door."

It was meant as a joke, but Emma realized that she wasn't smiling. In fact, she was quite warm, and as she leaned her head back against the high-backed chair, she felt the sudden urge to wilt in her seat.

Trying her best to snap out of her stupor, Emma took another sip of water with the hopes of lowering the heat in her face.

"And then when she came along" Gold said, eyes lingering on the sheriff in front of him, "and my son spoke so beautifully about her I could not deny that I am selfish man any longer. For I wanted her. I wanted her back in my life although she had never been a true part of it. I yearned for her, craved her touch, craved the sound of her voice. To see my son happy around her and to be there too, sharing their happiness. This would be my bliss. I knew what I wanted and now I know how to get it."

"What was that? I'm sorry, I...I heard you, but I couldn't quite hear your words," Emma confessed, squinting slightly as a bead of sweat trickled down her neck. Now brushing back her hair, she suddenly felt embarrassed when she realized Gold was speaking of a woman. His words were ardent and full of longing, and she felt as though she shouldn't be listening to such an intimate account. Moving to end the vivid speech, Emma opened her mouth in preparation to halt his words, but instead it was she who halted the moment Gold uttered his last sentence.

His voice had turned to an erotic whisper. "And there is nothing you can do to stop me from getting it all."

"I, excuse me?" she demanded, eying him with a look of bewilderment and annoyance. "How am I in the way of your happiness? I don't even know what the hell you're talking about..."

Rising as though she'd leave him to his musings, Emma gave a yelp when her weight gave out and she crashed back down into her seat. Bleary-eyed and stunned, she trained her unfocused gaze on Gold and gritted her teeth. "You poisoned me," she accused, swallowing slightly as she tried to make heads or tails of the room spinning madly about her. "You son of a tricked me!"

The man opposite of her watched calmly as the drug took its effect and Emma was unable to rise properly from her chair. He thought how ironic it was for her to be unable to support her own weight, to sink through her knees like he would through his lame one. He had watched her rant and heard her soft pleas, and as she found herself growing silent he folded his hands in front of him and leered at her from over the dishes. No desert indeed.

With trembling fingers, Emma grabbed the serrated knife by her plate and held it up as a pathetic shield, her breathing coming in soft, shallow pants as her breasts heaved from the adrenaline rush.

"What do you want?" she managed to choke out, yet her tone was far weaker than she wished to convey. "Please, I...I don't understand the point of this... Let me go home."

And yet, if he really had poisoned her, what then? She'd never get to see Henry again, and all because she'd foolishly agreed to make a deal with Satan.

Hair falling into her line of vision, Emma bowed forward and gripped at the table with her free hand. Her right still held the knife loosely in her grasp, but deep-down she knew the effort was useless. Whatever Gold had given has was strong, and it took everything in her power to try and move her limbs.

"Doesn't this ring a bell, dear Emma?"

He waited for a reply but saw her dazed look and concluded he had to expand his explanation.

"Now why would I poison you, if I did?" He said, teasing her with a malicious grin that would confirm any theory about devils she might have held in her head.

"Why would I do that if you're to be my partner in this undertaking? If you're possibly my friend." He smiled at her, expecting an answer screeching he could forget that last part.

"Well, aren't we friends, Emma?" He rose from his seat and limped over to her, lifting her face with his free hand and looking in her eyes. His lips pressed into a thin line and his smile had been replaced by a slight frown.

Emma tried her best to focus on Gold's words, but every time her heart pounded, the rush of blood to her head caused her to woozily vacillate between consciousness and unconsciousness. He was going on about how they weren't really friends, but she didn't have the faculties to tell him how right he was on that account. At this rate, he'd be lucky to even walk after she managed to recompose herself.

If she'd ever recompose herself.

"No, of course we aren't." Mr Gold replied for her. "We weren't. I told you I make the perfect enemy. But I didn't just ask you here to give you feelings of hostility. In fact, I asked you to achieve the opposite. By tomorrow you will have little recall about this night. It's the drug you seeā€¦ it makes you a little.. dazed."

He gently traced his fingers through her hair. Delicious, it was, that she could not truly move away from his touch. It sent shivers down his spine of delight to think how easy a prey she was to conquer. Not that he wouldn't have liked a little struggle, but this way he would at least get what he wanted.

"Still doesn't ring a bell, does it? Let me explain myself differently to you. Whether you choose for me to be your enemy or your friend in this little enterprise is up to you. But I urge you to choose wisely."

Head bowed and hair masking her vision, she swayed a little and whimpered at the mentioning of a drug. So, she wasn't poisoned - ironically, this did little to assuage her fears, for there were far things worse than death. Being molested by Gold was most certainly one of them.

Feeling his fingers gently brush through her hair, Emma shuddered and willed herself to move away, but to her horror found that she couldn't do anything to save herself. "Stop it," she whispered, her eyes closing as she swallowed weakly. "Stop it, stop it, stop it."

But her feeble pleas fell on deaf ears, and Emma gave a pained yelp when Gold yanked her up by the hair. He fisted her hair and pulled her slightly from her seat. For a man of his frailty he had incredible force. Head bent back and being held firmly in place, Emma grimaced as she experienced a feeling akin to pure helplessness. Her body felt as though it were being held up by marionette strings, and her head began to pound as her heels awkwardly slid against the hardwood floor.

"You're hurting me," she rasped, yet Gold didn't seem to hear her. Either that, or he didn't care one way or the other.

Whimpering when he gave her hair yet another forceful yank, Emma cringed as Gold forcefully drew her forward and brought his lips to her ear.

A pleased yet threatening smirk was on his face as he spoke to her, voice low and grave as his mouth came closer to her ear. His low words made her squirm against him, but her efforts were pitiful in comparison to the strength that was holding her in place.

"Almost eleven years ago you found yourself on a party, drunk, giddy, accepting water instead of wine in an attempt to save yourself from the horny men at the party. Instead of being wise you were tricked by a serpent, a man who had set out to get this one thing: your body writhing underneath his." His hot breath caromed her ear, trickling down the skin of her neck.

Emma had managed to put her hands on her chest as if this would somehow distance them, but Gold's intentions grew clearer as he spoke horrifying, frightening words into her ear.

Eyes wide, she felt like a victim of paralysis as she fought for breath, her knees nearly giving out when he opened his mouth against her feverish skin. Feeling tears prickling at the back of her lashes, Emma gave an internal scream and mentally told herself she would never cry in front of this sadistic bastard. He wanted to break her - to make her a pitiful shell of the woman she tried to convey on a daily basis - but she wouldn't let him. If he was going to take her against her will, she at the very least wouldn't give him the satisfaction of her tears.

His lips found her flesh, kissing the auricle before brushing down to her earlobe. Nails digging feebly into Gold's lapels, Emma's breathing grew labored as his lips traveled from her neck to her earlobe. He nipped it, clenching it a second time between his teeth and gently tucking at it. She wanted to run or strike out, but all she could do was allow the lascivious attentions on her skin. Her body was not a temple, and she knew this, but the thought of Gold invading her without her permission made her want to die.

Suddenly Mr Gold distanced himself from her. In a fit of rage, or just other subsided feelings, he unexpectedly swept the table clean with his cane. Plates fell to the ground, crashing into pieces, pans rolling over to the other end, the bottle of wine falling and breaking and the remainders of the water and sauces spilling over the table. Mr Gold looked like a beast, letting out a guttural roar. The action took only a few seconds but had been so sudden, so abrupt, that it was frightful. His left hand now moved down Emma's back to heave her up from the chair by the back of her dress. His strength wasn't good enough to keep her full weight now, and he had to let go the moment she was up straight. If she were to fall she would land upon the dining table where he could have her.

His hand let go of her hair, leaving a weary blonde mess.

Emma panted and tried to remain standing. Breasts heaving from the strain, she finally felt her legs give out and she crashed right into the dining room table. With a shuddery intake of breath, she felt like sobbing when she realized how goddamn helpless she was. Her arms were now resting in her own dinner, and she could do nothing about it. Her drugged water had also been spilt by the fall, but this was of little consequence to her. All she could truly think about was Gold's location, because despite still being able to see, the room was spinning about so wildly that everything was but a blur.

Coughing as though she were choking, Emma shuddered and bowed her head forward in resignation. She'd heard before that in the wild, animals that faced impending perils would eventually give up after struggling. It seemed that now was her time, for she didn't have the strength to do anything but speak.

Forehead now resting against the table, Emma quivered and hated the fact that she was bent over as though she were presenting herself. If she could just roll slightly to the right, perhaps she could somehow sit back in her chair.

"You'll choose how to continue this game tomorrow, dear." Mr Gold promised her as he came to stand in front of the drugged Emma. "But remember, I'll stop at nothing to get back my son."