Authors Note: Well hello again! I seem to have been somewhat bitten by the songfic bug at the moment! A huge thank you to everyone who has been so kind to review my other songfics- this one is also based on a Paloma Faith song (Broken Doll), so hope you enjoy!
Reviews always welcome!
DISCLAIMER: I do not (unfortunately) own the rights to the Worst Witch or any music written/recorded by the wonderful Paloma Faith
xxxxx
I'm a broken doll and you're the puppeteer
Take control for me and wipe away my fears
Porcelain face. Red ruby lips. Large hazel eyes framed neatly by uniform forests of long, dark lashes. Long, glossy locks of ebony that fell effortlessly in a shining swath over her narrow shoulders, the dark waves providing the perfect antithesis to her pale complexion. A vision of doll-like perfection.
I don't claim to be perfect
I know I'm damaged goods
She awoke to put on her mask in the morning, seated elegantly at her dressing table, as she applied the meticulous makeup which hide not only minor blemishes of the pale skin, but successfully concealed the gaping callouses that were torn deep into the mind of the tortured woman who stared back from the reflection in the mirror, a slight frown of concentration gracing her unlined brow as she focused on painting carefully over the ugly wounds that were surrounded by purulent flesh, rotten to the diseased core, the blackened mementos of her past razed indelibly into her thoughts.
The calm, collected gaze of Constance Hardbroom faltered as the pain and hurt flickered briefly in her eyes as she stared back inertly at the drab surroundings of yet another day in her life, the vibrant colours of day soon shuffling back into the shadows of the monochrome state of affairs that battled within her during every waking hour.
But i wanna be led out of darkness just like every lady would
Condemned to be alone forever, desperate to escape, but even still determinedly pushing away those who meant the most to her…
She sniffed angrily as her shaking hand dislodged her lipstick from its usual resting place, her lightening reflexes causing her to flex her willowy casting fingers and catch the rouge cosmetic before it collided terminally with the stone flagstones.
Lick my wounds and watch them seal with your healing heart
Embrace my sadness, look after me
Coz there is no one else I'd ask
She'd snapped, she'd shouted, she'd raged at the only person who had dared to persist in untangling the dark mysteries of her past, the only one who had begun to break their way through the barbed wire which was wound tightly around her heart, her harsh words endangering the wondrous love that radiated like a warm ray of sunlight across her alabaster skin, goosebumps breaking out at the merest sigh of the sheer unbridled beauty of the object of her deepest needs and desires, every single moment of her day spent thinking of that glorious creature, however, it was her inflexible pride, her iron control that was threatening to place a stranglehold around the fledgling relationship, ensnaring and throttling it like bindweed twisting unforgivingly around a fragile young bloom.
I'm a broken doll and you're the puppeteer
Take control for me and wipe away my fears
"Imogen," she whispered hoarsely to her reflection in the mirror, words choking and dying in the throat of the usually confident orator.
"Please…. please, j-just forgive me," she stammered weakly, the usual sonorous tones lost in her despair, "please j-just help me…"
Piece me all together, though broken I am sweet
You thought my heart was made of wood but I can hear it beat
Without turning around, she caught sight of a flicker of movement in the mirror that sat upon her dressing table, staring hopefully at the blessed reflection; Constance uttered a silent little prayer of gratitude.
She was standing in the doorway.
Imogen was there, her guardian angel, radiant in the morning sun, wearing a crown of light that was filling the lofty turret, the sole keeper of her heart, smiling softly as she surveyed her lover making herself ready for the day ahead, not a trace of blame being apportioned by her understanding eyes.
Constance sighed quietly, knowing that despite her overwhelming desire for secrecy, Imogen was the only one who could help her break free from the chains of her past, knowing that if she allowed the gentle love and support to bath her in their reassurance, she may one day complete her unsteady path to redemption.
Imogen said nothing as she walked forward slowly into the chamber, but there was a friendly twinkle present in her green eyes which seemed to suggest that all was well again between the two of them.
Constance raised her eyes to the reflection in the looking glass, still unable to turn around as the foolish notion that she would be confronted by a taunting mirage still played around her mind, thinking that the illusion would turn to dust if she dared to look back over her shoulder, her disbelieving mind still slightly incapable of believing the strength of the compassion shared between the two of them, the alien feeling of love soaring like a bird taking flight within her chest as their eyes met.
I am scared of shadows in the night
When you are not there by my side
She felt safer, more protected then she had in years when she could feel the reassuring warmth of the body of her lover tucked up beside her beneath the purple sheets, the lonely size of the double bed for once seeming like a tranquil haven, the acres of solitary space diminished to create a cosy environment especially for the two of them.
Sick of nightmares in my sleep
When there is no place I can hide
She was still visited by the alarmingly frequent visions of her past, often jolting awake screaming frantically following the all-too-familiar sight of a horrific cinematic display that was plastered across her sleeping mind, rich in the fine details, right down to the dank smell of the murky cells and the thin, lumpy mattress which was spotted liberally with mildew from the incessant dampness from her place of incarceration, the constant sound of dripping water that punctuated her thoughts with its menacing, foreboding ostinato, unsettling in its reassured steadiness in comparison to the weak frailty of the broken human beings who fell under the collective "care" of Mistress Hecketty Broomhead. A living hell where she had lived for most of her teenage years, abused, maltreated and neglected all in the name of a magical education, clinging resolutely onto existence when so many around her crumbled and fell by the wayside, empty, blank shells, devoid of sanity, broken beyond repair and left to rot in the blackness of the dark dungeons, unloved, uncared for, driven out of their minds by the appalling treatment at the hands of that demonic witch.
See the beauty in the blood that drips down from my eyes
She couldn't remember beginning to cry as she calmly recounted the long hidden tales of her past to an astounded Imogen with the numb acceptance of a woman who had been pushed to the very limits of her sanity, the projected, composed acceptance of her fate still trying to hide the darkest corners of her torment, but salty tears were pooling rapidly in her eyes, the blood from her wounded heart gushing forth in a startling display of remorse, the first tears allowed to escape the icy façade in over a decade as she relented to the storm of emotions that was brewing with her mind, heavy sobs escaping from her frail body as she shook with the suppressed memories that were resurfacing.
Hold the parts that were ripped out
That took me by surprise
She beckoned to Imogen, her shaking, long fingers still able to deftly unfasten the silk buttons at the cuff of her black dress- her widow's weeds, the dress of mourning for all those who had not survived as she had, the act of remembrance for the fallen comrades in arms whom she had lost- as she rolled the sleeve back to display the familiar spider's web of silvery lines that crisscrossed manically across her skin, the scars that had always intrigued and fascinated Imogen as she traced her fingers lightly over the chaotic pattern, the wounds that had mutilated her flesh in a permanent reminder of the savage regime which she had endured.
I'm a broken doll and you're the puppeteer
Take control for me and wipe away my fears
"She…. s-she…." began Constance, her eyes wild with panic as she looked helplessly back at the horrified expression that was worn by Imogen as she stared with fresh eyes upon the prolific scarring that littered the porcelain surface.
"I was one of the lucky ones…" she croaked huskily, as she stared pleadingly back at the non-witch, beseeching her to take her by the hand and move out of the darkness that had shrouded her life for so very long.
Piece me all together though broken I am sweet
You thought my heart was made of wood but I can hear it beat
A warm pair of arms embraced her tenderly from behind, a tanned face nuzzling lightly against her swan-like neck as a gentle kiss was placed behind her left ear, the cool draught breathing cold air over the slight moisture left by Imogen's lips, causing her to shiver slightly, her heart fluttering in her chest. And then, the most magical words that Constance had ever heard left Imogen's lips with such sparkling clarity, reaching out and supporting the witch, cushioning her on the strength and support behind them.
"I'm here now; it's all going to be alright…" she soothed quietly, stroking an errant strand of the ebony hair out of Constance's face as she gently rocked the older woman in her caring embrace. "I would fight to keep you by my side until there wasn't a breath left in my body…" she whispered as Constance's breathing became more regular as the sobs subsided. She reached forward for one of the trembling ivory hands, interlinking her muscular fingers with the witches, her thumb caressing the soft skin beneath her as she breathed a quiet reassurance into Constance's ear. "I love you…"
Boom boom here it goes boom boom
To the sound of the grand piano
"Here", Constance whispered as she stared back at Imogen with red-rimmed eyes, her bony hand closing gently over Imogen's, not rebuffing her touch, but moving her hand over her breast to rest directly over her heart, the unconditional love and support supplied by the younger woman beginning to knit together the ruined tissues, stemming the flow of blood from her wrecked heart, finally beginning to trust once more as love filled her from head to toe. "Can you feel it?" She breathed, for once feeling alive, as if the heart had been released from the block of ice that it had been frozen in, the constructed defences melting and falling away as the long, bleak winter of her life began to thaw away to reveal the new shoots of hope that were beginning to germinate within her. "Can you feel it beating?"
I am dancing in your light
In the light in here
It was if a symphony orchestra were playing at full intensity within her heart. Life was turned on its head as she stared pleadingly into the sparkling depths of the green orbs in front of her, the giddiness returning to her dazed senses, suddenly no longer knowing which way was up or down, captivated by Imogen, she was no longer held to earth by gravity, but by the attraction to the star which she orbited around who was stationed directly behind her.
I'm a broken doll and you're the puppeteer
Take control for me and wipe away my fears
"Oh, Constance…" sighed Imogen, trailing a finger beneath the defined chin, eliciting a faint shiver of excitement from the witch, "I know," she reassured gently, still slightly struggling to find the words to voice the feelings of desire that raged within her every time she set eyes upon the raven-haired beauty, the rare glimpse of vulnerability from the witch only causing her to fall even deeper in love with the troubled soul as she sought to protect her from the demons that were destroying her from within, "But this is a battle that we can win together…" she whispered, kissing Constance softly, brushing a trailing finger across the eager lips in front of her, effectively silencing any doubts that she was certain would be voiced, "You and me, together…" she breathed, her forehead resting lightly against the cool brow of her lover.
I'm a broken doll and you're the puppeteer
Take control for me and wipe away my fears
Piece me all together though broken I am sweet
You thought my heart was made of wood but I can hear it beat
Constance said nothing, but the hazel eyes that had been wide with fear now shone with a newly reflected hope as she raised a caring hand and rested it lightly on Imogen's cheek, her heart swelling with love and pride for the miraculous woman whom she was so privileged to be able to love with every iota of her being, her warmth breath falling slowly upon the face that was resting fractions away from hers, and for that special moment only the two of them existed within the manic hustle and bustle of the world, two lovers alone in their own little world, briefly united as one as they shared a gentle kiss of understanding and trust.
I'm a broken doll and you're the puppeteer
Take control for me and wipe away my fears
Piece me all together though broken I am sweet
You thought my heart was made of wood but I can hear it beat
Together, they would come through this.