Disclaimer: I don't own The Worst Witch, and the song 'Save The Hero' belongs to the amazing Beyonce.
A/N: *And the Resident Princess (just kidding) returns to the fandom after a busy fortnight of revision and after her uni exams*
Funny thing is, this song (which I totally LOVE now) was one of the ones on B's album I would skip over in favour of Single Ladies!
#If you like it, then you should of put a ring on it, if you like it then you should of put a ring on it ..#
*notices weird looks coming from readers*
Where was I? Oh yes, so always skipped over it, until about 2 days ago - due to attempting to hold the curlers, hairspray, hairbrush, and clasp all at the same time, really leaves one with no free hands for changing songs. So decided to let it play and as it got further through started thinking I think this is so HB.
*Sammi hears the elephant parade from down the road approaching*
And now I'll stop rambling. :P
XXX
A/N - Edited 2013- song lyrics removed. I've worried for some time about copyright laws and have thus made the decision to remove the lyrics from any writing I have done. :)
Save The Hero
The room was completely silent, apart from the ticking of the clock, but to Constance Hardbroom that simple movement of the hands symbolised something much more terrifying; because each minute that passed drew the school inspection and Heckitty Broomhead's visit closer.
Heckitty Broomhead, Constance shivered inwardly, even the sound of her name made Constance's stomach turn itself in knots; it made her skin pale dramatically and it made her struggle for breath. She grabbed either side of the dressing table as she felt herself begin to sway on her feet: her head felt as though it was filled with molten lead, and she wanted nothing more than to pass out on the spot there and then and not wake up but she knew she couldn't.
Constance wasn't entirely convinced that she wasn't going to faint but she very slowly began to release her tight grip on the table, and as she did so she could see the imprint of her nails in the grains of the old wood. She forced herself to look in the mirror and could almost feel Heckitty's presence with her in the room and it made her feel sick to her stomach, she felt a wave of nausea rise in the back of her throat and swallowed; her throat was so dry it was almost like swallowing broken glass.
After staring into the mirror for what seemed like a lifetime and desperately wishing she could go through it, like in that old book 'Alice Through The Looking Glass' and travel to a world; free from hurt, free from pain but most of all, free from Heckitty. She changed out her long black dress and into her purple pyjamas, undid her long brunette hair from its tight bun and brushed it out. Pulling back the covers, she climbed into the bed, and pulled the covers tight around her almost as if they could act as some sort of shield from Heckitty.
Shaking like a leaf she closed her eyes tight, but she couldn't sleep and whilst this was a usual occurrence tonight it was more prominent. She was gripped with fear, fear at having to face the awful demon from her past; the treacherous woman who still haunted her dreams and waking existence; whose words could cut Constance deeper than any scar she ever inflicted on her could.
Constance lay on the bed and just watched the hands of the clock move round and round and round. The hands on the clock had no freedom, they were constrained to that clock and could only move round continuously, making time go forward; they never really went back and Constance knew that she should look forward.
She couldn't though; she was still trapped in the past, in her past.
Her eyes felt so heavy not only with tiredness but with the years of torment and pain she had suffered. It was noticeable on the outside; the dark lines underneath them were evidence of how little rest she got, it was less noticeable on the inside, but it was there. Her dark brown eyes were so dark you could almost fall into them.
Her eyes welled up with tears, but the tears couldn't cross their boundaries: not because she was too strong to cry but because deep down she wasn't strong enough. The saying went 'What doesn't kill us, only makes us stronger', she almost wanted to laugh at that; it certainly didn't make her stronger, not really it made her just about able to function in life and no more. She certainly never had a life; she couldn't trust anyone and lived her life almost in solitude. And what kind of life was it? It was empty, it was meaningless.
She gave off the image of being a strong, powerful and infallible woman who refused to show even the slightest hint of weakness, the slightest chink in her armour but underneath she was anything but, underneath she was like a sandcastle; the slightest knock and she would crumble and fall, and when the tide came in she would wash away to nothingness.
Because of the image she gave off, she knew that in times of trouble everybody turned to her for help; for assistance; for guidance and mostly for protection. She was their tower of strength, their shield that hide them from the dangers of the magical world.
And tomorrow she would have to do the same, she would need to protect the staff, and the girls- Mildred Hubble more than anyone else- from Heckitty's poisonous wrath or Mildred would be broken down and all that bravery and spirit she possessed for life would be crushed and destroyed in the blink of an eye, reducing her to nothing but a mere empty shell, just like hers had been all those years ago. And she would protect them. She only wished that there was someone who could protect her...
Constance kept all her emotions, and secrets from her past locked up inside, she couldn't talk about it to anyone, even thinking about it brought back painful memories and the vivid nightmares she suffered night after night were a constant reminder that she could, and would, never be free from Heckitty.
She knew inside her heart, frozen as it was, that she was trying to be someone she wasn't; someone who Heckitty had made her into, but she didn't know how to be herself, she didn't even know who her true self was anymore. For so long she had lived this way and she had no clue how to even begin to start anew.
Teaching the girls was the only thing, she felt, that gave her purpose in life. The beauty of the magical craft was the only thing that put that slight spark in her eyes. When she spoke of pure magic her whole being lit up; her eyes widened intently and her voice spoke with such admiration and pride for her craft.
She knew how the world viewed her, as it was the same way she viewed the world: in darkness and alone. She only wished that someone would look beneath; would look past the black and the harsh façade and see what was underneath. See who she truly was, find that young girl who had lost her way in life and needed someone to light the path, find her and bring her back to life.
All her life she had tried her best to please everyone else, to give off this image of perfection, but there was no such thing. True perfection can't exist, its just an illusion; a trick of the eye to fool the mind. For if perfection exists then mistakes can't be made and they can't be learnt from.
Constance's heart was like glass; fragile and easy to break. And each time it had broken, the pieces had shattered into smaller and smaller fragments until there was no glue strong enough to piece it back together and, like glass it cut her up inside.
She needed saving, but each time she cried out for help, no sound came out, she was silently screaming out in pain and slowly dying inside due to no one hearing, or answering her plea.
She prayed that she could summon the internal strength to cope in just a few short hours time, when the tyrannical monster who had tortured her most of her life would re-enter her life. She knew Heckitty would drip her poison in the Academy and make the inspection as uncomfortable as possible for them. She had always enjoyed watching people, Constance especially, squirm. She seemed to get some sort of pleasure from it; she would revel in the misery of others.
This time however Constance was determined that she would not give into her fear. She had a duty to the Academy, she had a duty to her family.