A/N: Hey there, just another random one-shot by yours truly! Inspiration from the bus trip into work and my ipod. This is sorta a songfic but not in the conventional way but the combination of an idea and some lyrics from this song really helped.

Taking Back Sunday – Lonely, Lonely (serious urge that you check them out) Original lyrics are in bold.

I own nowt including the band, song or worst witch and its characters. WARNING! Some parts of this one-shot may get 'dark' but without diving into too much details, wanting to keep it believable and in taste. Don't want to give away details so this is the first and only warning...Will be interesting to read any/all reviews regarding subject matters.

Enjoy x

Where the Story Begins

I'm just enough to fill the void her daddy left.

Lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely

Don't you go changing for me.

A hand gently caressed her shoulder, offering a glimmer of comfort during this painstaking time. He was her tower of strength, he had to be, was now his sole responsibility to ensure that he remained strong for her. In time, he would be there, to offer a shoulder for her to cry upon and have the fatherly ear, to hear her recount the wonderful memories that now kept her spirit alive.

"Constance..." he whispered, gently nudging her back into a painful reality

She turned to look at him, her pale features blotchy from the crying, her pain no longer hidden. It was not until the coffin had been lowered into the frozen ground, into the final resting place that she finally broke. Her mother had left, not by choice but the sudden and abrupt end to her life was tragic and affected her more than she would ever come to realise.

Slowly, her eyes drifted back toward the frozen ground and she followed in the wake of his footsteps. Life had dealt the Hardbroom family a cruel hand but they say time is greater healer, and in time the pain would subside.

He had lost the love of his life. Sitting in the shadows of his study, he yearned to follow his soul mate into the unknown afterlife but that would mean abandoning his daughter and he could never allow her to know of the pain of losing both parents in such a small space of time, something he had experienced. In his fingers, he toyed with a glass vial that could put an end to his vicious suffering and torment but his watery eyes never left the photograph of his daughter, encased in a silver frame. Forever preserved as the little, wide eyed girl. Daddy's little girl but she had grown. A smile tugged at his lips. Each and every day that passed, she was already growing into her mother, another painful reminder of the woman that he loved and cherished until her dying breath.

The glass vial was carefully put back in its rightful place and locked away in the secret compartment of the drawer. The only key hung from a chain along with his pocket watch, the jingle as he walked was a constant companion, something that had replaced the loss of his true companion.

He stopped abruptly as did the jingle, just outside the door of Constance. Since the funeral, she had reverted into newly constructed shell, seemed more unreachable with each passing day. Along with dealing with his own pain, he made a valiant effort to cushion the harsh reality and mourning but he had failed to protect her. Whenever he attempted to reach out for her, she pushed away and into the darkness, a free fall, a fatal decent.

It was the anniversary of her tragic and sudden passing. The year had not been kind to the father that lost his one true love, a single parent left in the aftermath to raise his unreachable and almost mute daughter.

Standing at the gravestone, he kneeled down and allowed himself to place a gentle kiss upon the marble, as if it was her forehead he was kissing. If only.

"I'm so lost without you...and Constance...I don't know what to do...she rejects every attempt of comfort or conversation" he paused and looked up towards the sky, as if waiting for an answer but he knew only the whistling of the wind penetrated his ears "I'm frightened that she will never, truly heal from your passing"

The death of her mother inflicted a level of pain, the emotional wound, her heart would never fully recover. A year had passed and yet nothing had changed for Constance. Still the raw pain was ever present, never giving her a moment's peace. She severed all ties with the outside world, her rational was to protect herself, never to experience this pain again even if it meant alienating herself from everyone and thing, including her own father.

His feeble attempts to comfort her had failed only pushing her further away from his out stretched hands, to rescue her from whatever cold place she had locked herself away in. His warm arms, a place once safe and warm now empty.

Constance took matters into her own hands but already facing suspicion from the ever prying eyes of her father. The fraying and fragile father – daughter relationship was crumbling and far beyond repair. Both guilty of using words as sharp and cruel weapons, cursing each other, the shouting matches would exhausted both of them and often turning to a vice, as a coping mechanism. Her father, it was very often the devil's liquid, a fine Scottish malt was his poison. To numb the pain and attempt to forget the venom filled words he'd spat at his only daughter.

Constance took a more hands on approach. Sitting in the corner of her bedroom, she toyed with a letter opener. She allowed the cool metal to touch her skin, goosebumps rose in response. Already her teenage skin was littered with small scars, each a painful reminder of her mother's death, her father's screaming and what some would call a dangerous perhaps borderline act of addiction to self mutilation in order to feel alive.

She had noticed the questionable look in his eyes, why was she wearing long sleeves during the summer?

She knew it was the anniversary since her mother's passing. An unforgettable date that would forever etched into her conscious mind. Looking up and into the sky, she allowed herself to daydream, to wish that the entire year and been nothing but a cruel figment of her twisted imagination and that any moment now her mother would float into the house, humming to herself as usual. Light following her like she was an earth bound angel. Instead, the door slammed shut followed by a mutter, her father had arrived home.

Again, it happened.

Only this time, both crossed lines that they had been dancing around and now their relationship bound by blood, family was shattered.

"I wish you dead...you should died, not her!"

"I'd trade her for you!"

And then the awkward silence followed, this would mark the beginning of the end. The wife and mother had been the glue that kept the peace and the glue of the family together as a result of her passing, everything else died with her, including the relationship between father and daughter.

There was a timid knock at the door, without waiting he opened the door and now stood in the doorway, his shoulders slumped, bloodshot eyes from a night of crying, tears of regret, frustration and helplessness. Clasped in his hand was a letter, shaking like a leave "Constance..." he began

"Father" she replied coolly

He hesitated to begin with but somewhere, somehow for strength. Confidence returned and now he knew this was for the greater good. He had been left with little choice and perhaps in the future, over time she would forgive him and see it was for her own good.

"You have left me with no other choice"

She rolled her eyes, tired. How could she respect him after both of them revealing their bitter dislike that each wished the other one dead.

It did pain him but he refused to openly admit that "I'm sending you to an all girl college"

Constance typically shrugged her shoulders, what could be worse than forced to live under the same roof with someone who simply put up with you?

"If Broomhead's college doesn't change you...then I don't know what will"

She sighed, little did she know that her fate was sealed.

And the rest is history...