Dorothy, her initial fear and sadness abated slightly, began to walk around the room. A dish of meat and potatoes had been slid under the door by the Wicked Witch herself. But Dorothy did not pay any care to it. She was more interested in the small closet on the other side of the room.
Her small hand gripped the dull metal doorknob. It turned easily. She pulled the door .
No, not quite nothing. A dusty album sat tucked away in the corner. Dorothy picked it up.
Dorothy blew off some of the dust and opened it. The pictures were in black and white, and featured the same rotating cast of characters: an average height young man, a short young man who reminded her of the tin man, a pretty girl in a wheelchair, a very handsome young man with a jaunty loose posture like the scarecrow, a blonde woman. But as she looked closer, Dorothy realized she knew that blonde woman.
It was Glinda the Good, but younger and happier. Many pictures featured her and the handsome man. In scrawled writing underneath one picture was the word "Fiyero". She guessed that was his name.
The album was only half filled. Dorothy flipped through the remaining blank pages, but got bored and sat the album down on the shelf. As she turned however, papers fell from the back of the book.
Dorothy knelt and picked them up. One was an envelope marked with the name "Nessarose Thropp". She opened it.
Dear Nessa, I am so sorry. The trip to the Emerald City took an unexpected turn. The Wizard wanted me make these monkeys to make spies, and when I said I wouldn't, he set his guards after me. That means I'm now a fugitive on the run. I can't come home for a while. Please remember I love you and I promise I will be back when I can. Love, Elphaba. P.S. I enclosed some pictures I thought you might want.
Dorothy's hand dipped into the envelope and pulled out more black and white pictures, which explained why there were random blank spots with dried glue still stuck to the paper.
The pretty girl in the wheelchair and the short boy in the library. Glinda the Good and the handsome man dancing. The three young men sopping wet, climbing from a lake. The girl in the wheelchair and the short boy, dressed to the nines. The two girls and three boys in a group photo. The girl in the wheelchair and a tall, thin girl with what the black and white picture only showed as dark skin. Dorothy turned it over.
This is my favorite. It's the only one of us together. I prefer being behind the camera instead of in front of it! Love, Elphaba.
"WHAT do you think you're doing?" a voice snapped from behind Dorothy. The young girl froze, the pictures and letter still in her hand. Very slowly, Dorothy spun on her heel, making her face to face with the witch.
"I...I...I was curious," Dorothy squeaked.
"So you decided to open a letter that was not addressed to you?"
"I...I..."
The witch snatched the letters and photographs out of Dorothy's hands. If Dorothy was't mistaken, the witch looked like she was about to cry.
"Did...did you know her? This Nessarose girl? She was the one in the wheelchair right?"
The witch turned to look back at Dorothy. Her face conveyed anger, but her eyes conveyed grief.
"Yes, she was. And yes, I knew her," the witch said softly.
"Who...who was she?" Dorothy asked, quietly.
"She was my sister," the witch said, her voice breaking on the last word.
And then it hit Dorothy. She remembered the witch's words when she first arrived in Oz: who killed my sister?
"I'm sorry. I didn't know," Dorothy was close to sobbing. But then a wave of fresh emotion washed over her as she remembered the recent events. "But everyone said she was as wicked as... as you!"
This time the witch was near to crying.
"I know. She felt like I abandoned her... she, well, she didn't handle being alone well. And it's all my fault," the witch did break down crying. Her green hands covered her face as she sank to the floor.
Dorothy didn't know what to feel. On one hand, a ball of remorse was growing in her chest. She had after all, landed a house on this woman's sister. On the other hand, this green woman had kidnapped her dog.
"Yes. It was. You are an awful, terrible, horrendible person!" Dorothy shrieked. This made the witch cry harder. It made Dorothy feel guilty.
"I... I know. I have made mistakes, and so did Nessa. Terrible mistakes. But we... we weren't always... It used to be better. There was a time... A long time ago, when we were happy. Before it all fell apart," spluttered the witch through her tears. She took a few shaky breaths, and her hands slid down to her lap.
"Can you tell me?" Dorothy whispered, as the witch picked up the picture of the group.
"No," the witch whispered, gazing at the picture. "But I can show you."