SUMMARY :
She had it figured out by the time she was five.
Phase one, sit and wait at the group home.
Phase two, get picked out to live with whichever random couple that had deemed her 'good enough' this time.
Phase three, get sent back mere weeks later for being ‘too difficult to handle’.
And then the cycle started over again.
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Emma Swan was used to the routine by now. She had it figured out by the time she was five.
Phase one, sit and wait at the group home.
Phase two, get picked out to live with whichever random couple that had deemed her good enough this time.
Phase three, get sent back mere weeks later for being ‘too difficult to handle’.
And then the cycle started over again.
The foster process itself had never been kind to Emma, from the very moment she was placed into the flawed system as a days-old baby after being abandoned on the side of a freeway, she was in for a rough life. The kids at the group homes were bullies, and every foster family she had would never keep her for long. She had stopped taking note of how many roofs she’d lived under at four years old, when she had reached family number fifteen- the Cranes.
Emma remembered them, she would never be able to forget the young couple who, for almost an entire year, gave her the home she had been longing for. The Cranes had been kind to her, unlike many of Emma’s other foster parents. The worst ones had been family number seven- the Bakers. Number twelve- the Valentines, they came a close second. And though it had been a long time since she’d shared a house with either of those dreadful families, their imprints on her still remained. After her stay at the Bakers, the little girl was afraid of taking baths. Or more specifically, she hated water. Following her return from the Valentine household, she had developed a newfound tendency of making sure no door was ever locked when she was in a room.
Her experience with the Cranes was never like those homes. They would have dinner together every night at 6pm, they would ask how her day was at school, they would hug her when she was sad, scared, when they were proud of her, or just because it was a random Tuesday. Their little family couldn’t be more perfect. That was, until the day that Damian - Mr Crane - was suddenly let go from his job.
‘Budget cuts,’ he had told Emma when she’d asked why he had been fired, though the four year old hadn’t the faintest idea what he’d meant by that. She hadn’t questioned it further; Damian’s offer to go out for ice cream that evening eliminated all queries in her head regarding his job, and new thoughts of a double scoop rocky road cone had swiftly replaced them.
The measly allowance the Cranes had received weekly from the state was barely enough to afford decent meals for Emma, therefore the couple had relied solely on Damian’s income to not only provide for themselves, but to also care properly for their foster daughter. After Damian had been fired, Hannah - Mrs Crane - picked up a part-time job in a library, but those wages were not enough on their own. Still, Emma didn’t notice. She would be too preoccupied with excitement over seeing the new book Hannah would check out from work every few days for them to read together before bedtime.
Her all-time favourite story that Hannah had brought home to her once was Snow White. But, unlike that tale, Emma’s life from there on out was the furthest thing from a happily ever after. The Crane’s income had been drying out, so there was only one option left.
They didn’t want to do it, they really didn’t. But they had no choice other than to send her back, no longer having enough to take care of their little girl in the way they knew she deserved. It wasn’t a decision they made lightly in the slightest, but that hadn’t mattered to Emma. All she had been able to comprehend was that she had actually allowed herself to give in to the contentment she’d begun to feel during her time spent with the couple. She had convinced herself for once that she’d found her forever home, only for it to have now been ripped away from her without warning- quite literally.
The social worker had to physically pry her from a distraught Hannah and a stoic, emotionless Damian, both of whom were holding onto her just as tightly, reciprocating the embrace with all their strength. Hannah had also been whispering to her, muttering every apology under the sun, as though that would solve everything.
‘Please forgive us, baby girl. We swear, this isn’t your fault,’ was the most repeated phrase Emma could remember Hannah gasping out between cries that day. The rest all sort of melded into one whenever she thought back on them. Not that any of those promises or apologies helped anyway, because the only thing it solidified to Emma was that the couple had deliberately chosen to send her back. And the little girl had no idea what she could’ve done to make them hate her so much, she’d been so good.
In hindsight, she didn’t know why she was surprised. The family always sends her back. It’s the routine. With the Cranes it just… took a little longer than usual for phase three to take effect, that’s all.
Two months after moving back to the group home after the Cranes, Emma turned five. At that point she had figured out the routine. It made her time with the next foster families less painful to endure when they inevitably decided to dump her back in the group home. She couldn’t be hurt by what she already knew was coming, she’d tell herself.
She knew it was a lie.
After the Cranes, Emma lived with twelve more families over the span of the next two years. And each had sent her back quicker than the last. With the way her life had been turning out so far, the seven year old blonde would sarcastically muse to herself that somehow, she must be cursed. With her track record, luck was never on her side, after all.
She would wait.
She would get picked.
She would return.
But more than anything, she would cry herself to sleep every night, wishing for a family. For somebody to love her. For somebody who wouldn’t give her away.
Thank you for teaching us to stand up for ourselves. That doing the right thing may be hard but it’s always worth it. Thank you for teaching us to fight for our own fairytale and for showing us vulnerability = strength
