She was tired. Tired of yelling. Tired of screaming at the door. Tired of asking questions that never got answered. She was tired of being tired!

Now she sat huddled against in the corner of her cell sitting on her slab that was supposed to pass for a bed, reaping the drug induced rewards of her actions. She'd spent the night pounding on the door, not caring who she woke up or what kind of trouble she caused. The determined screams, had turned into cries of fury as her questions went unanswered, and as the hours passed her fury had receded into begging and desperate pleas.

Just one question! She just wanted to know one thing. Her name. She didn't even care if it was ugly or if it had a beautiful meaning, she just wanted to know that she had one. Because if she had a name that meant that there was someone out there that loved her, someone out there that had cared enough to bestow something that precious upon her. And if someone could do that for her, well that meant that she had a past. That meant that she wasn't no one from nowhere. She had to have come from somewhere. She had to be in someone's heart?!

And yet day after day she sat, no visitors, no letters, not even the slightest hint that anyone outside of these four walls knew that she even existed.

Her long night was starting to catch up with her and the little energy she had left was being used to fight off the drugs coursing through her system. She didn't want to rest until she had her answers, but her body didn't seem to want to agree and her eye lids were beginning to feel heavier and heavier with every breath that she took. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, letting the hospital gown she wore act as a blanket. Close as she was to sleep, she still couldn't let herself lay down. That would be to admit to defeat. But her head began to sink down against her chest, her mind drifting in and out of consciousness until she heard a familiar squeak, and the icy feeling rushing through her blood made her instantly awake. There wasn't the slightest hint to suggest that anyone knew she existed...

Except for her.

She glanced up, knowing what she would find, and stared ominously at the door that kept her secured in this tiny padded prison. Normally it was solid, except for times like this. Light from the outside hallway leaked in through the little square hole in the door. On the other side of that small window was a face. It was a woman, short black hair, eyes that could only be described as cold, and her smileā€¦that was the most memorable thing about her. Her smile was one of glee and gloating, like she was incredibly happy to see her sitting there locked up in the tiny cell, like all her hopes and dreams had come true. It made her stomach turn.

She stared back at the woman, afraid to move because she might leave, because despite the bad feeling that she got every time she saw her she didn't want her to go. Her being there proved that she wasn't a figment of her imagination, and it proved that she hadn't always been crazy. This woman seemed to know her, seemed to be happy she was here, there had to be a reason for it. And yet she didn't know who she was, she wasn't sure if they were related, or if she was an enemy. For all she knew, the woman could have ruined her life and she would never know it! She never introduced herself, never came into the cell, never talked to her. Her appearances always seemed to leave her with more questions than answers.

She'd only seen the woman a handful of times. The space between those visits seemed far apart, but she knew that wasn't possible. She'd been here for as long as she could remember but she didn't think it could be as long as the visits suggested. Certainly no more than a year! And...

Suddenly the small smirk that she'd been bearing broke into a wide gleeful smile that made her stomach clench uncomfortably as she fought of nervous shivers. What was it about her imprisonment that made her so joyful, so happy?! It didn't seem fair. It was downright rude! She'd been up all night trying to understand the life that she didn't have, begging the nurses to simply give her a name, and this woman just felt like she could burst in at any time and watch her like she was on display for her own personal amusement.

Hot rage began to boil in her blood. She wanted her answers. This woman seemed like she might have them, why wouldn't she tell her? "What's my name," she asked with a cold voice. The woman did nothing, just continued to watch her. "What's my name?!" she shouted at her, pushing out of her position on the pitiful bed. "Who am I?" she screamed pressing herself against the safety glass within the door. "Why am I here? Tell me who I am! Please! I just want to know my name! Just tell me my name!"

Suddenly the woman did something she'd never done before. She began to laugh. Just a small chuckle, but threatening enough to make her shrink against the far side of the room as fear washed over her. It was enough to make her small room seem even smaller, like there wasn't a place that she could go that would properly hide her from this woman. Somehow she knew. She'd been wrong. This woman wasn't going to give her answers. From somewhere deep down in her soul she just knew that if anything this woman was to blame for her current situation. If only because she knew she was here and refused to help her.

Small as it was, the laughter seemed to echo off the walls of her cell, taunting her, bring tears to her eyes. She balled herself up against the far wall and buried her head in her hands. Why did she do this? Why would she insist on torturing her like this?! Surely she had better things to do. Surely she realized how terribly upset it made her. Why would anyone take pleasure in hurting another person this way?

It stopped just as suddenly as it began, and she timidly picked her head out of her lap, glancing at the door. She was still there, that face was still staring at her going to pieces, but she did nothing about it. Instead the face got suddenly closer to the glass, if only by a fraction, and lifted her eyebrows. "Sweet dreams, dear," and with a metallic bang the trapdoor fell shut.


Hi! For those of you that are just checking out this fiction, welcome! For those of you who are a fan of the Moments Series, welcome back! I hope you'll enjoy this fiction. It's the second in the Moments Series, a series that is an attempt at an accurate portrayal of Belle's perspective during the Once Upon a Time series. This fiction features everything that happened in Storybrooke from the moment that Belle is in the asylum in "Skin Deep" up to the moment that Regina gives her Lacey's memories in "Lacey".

Because I am working to keep this series as accurate as possible, there might be changes made to this fiction, as needed. But I won't bore you with those details, if you really want them check out the authors note at the end, it'll explain everything or you can now follow the Moments Series on Twitter, under Montreat11! I'll make sure to post info about updates as we go. Also, those of you who originally read this fiction when it was being posted know that it looks a lot different (and a lot shorter) than it originally was. There have been some changes to make the series more series like. Don't worry all the chapters you are looking for still exist, just in different fictions. If you are looking for something just go to the Author's note and I'm sure you'll find what you seek.

If you enjoy this fiction, please review! I always enjoy those wonderful gems waiting for me in my inbox and I love writing back to thank you personally for reading and reviewing! It helps me know that I'm doing a decent job. Peace and Happy Reading!