Hello! I couldn't help but upload another story as I've had this idea for a while. First of all, I'd like to say thank you for the helpful advice and encouragement on my first fanfiction! Secondly, just a warning that this one gets pretty intense. I hope to turn this into a series of one-shots if people like it so please review if you do :)

I unfortunately do not own Wicked :(

A twelve-year-old Elphaba made her way warily to the staircase. There was a ramp directly beside it, for Nessa, and both were decorated with horribly gaudy swirling designs, which had been slapped with a sickening off-gold paint.

Elphaba couldn't stand the sight of it; Oz, she hated this house! Each room seemed to be twice the size that it ought to be and there were ten times as many rooms as there ought to have been. The corridors seemed to possess their own individual stenches: the one nearest the dining hall smelled distinctly of burnt cabbage whereas the corridor leading to her Father's office had a curiously unfamiliar, murky scent that Elphaba could never seem to adjust to, and that she still couldn't seem to breath in after twelve years of it. And the main entrance hall, where she was standing now, smelt of something halfway between expensive wine and dying roses. Light floated into the room from all sides and up to ten feet above her head, yet the dark maroon walls and excessively large furniture made the room feel cramped.

She was almost at the stairs...almost, but it was too late. She could make out the sound of her Father's boots on the tiles and soon enough a door to her right creaked open. He would be furious.

"Where's your sister?" The man demanded

"Upstairs. In her bedroom"

But he didn't go upstairs. He continued glaring at his eldest daughter (something that Elphaba didn't notice for a few seconds as she had been admiring her feet).

"She's fine" Elphaba continued, although she knew that that wasn't what her Father had wanted her to say.

There was an unbearable silence. Elphaba usually liked silences, it gave her time to think. But not this one.

"Elphaba, what have you done?" Frex asked harshly, only it wasn't a question. It was a warning. So Elphaba didn't answer. She waited for her Father to speak again.

"Not only have you embarrassed your poor sister but you have disgraced our whole family."

His tone was soft and stern but not quite angry. It was unnerving. He would usually shout and she would mumble false 'sorry's between his outbursts. This routine was tedious, however there seemed to be a strange comfort in knowing exactly how her Father was feeling. But today it wasn't like that. She knew he was angry but with this new guise of calmness, she couldn't tell how angry.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to..." The girl murmured before deciding to switch to her usual too-loud tone of voice "But you know I can't help-"

"Can't help but embarrass everyone around you?"

Elphaba opted not to respond. It was true. It was in her nature to embarrass her family. Not just with her grotesquely green skin but with everything she did. Not that she had any intention of stopping, in fact, she couldn't stop but it did hurt to know that Nessa had to suffer because of her. And today had been no exception. She hadn't managed to make it even halfway through the school day before snapping.

She had been reading under the large Quoxwood tree behind the school and intermittently taking small bites of her sandwich. She heard sniggers from behind her. It was no secret that they were directed at her but she barely noticed them at first because it was nothing out of the ordinary.

No, it was the tap on her shoulder that had stunned her. No one approached her. No one would willingly associate themselves with the green 'thing'. Elphaba had shot up to her feet in an instant and noticed that there was a boy at her bag. A boy whom she recognised faintly but could not recall the name of. She didn't have time to think of it. Dropping her book, she placed both of her hands on the tattered brown satchel. The stitching was loose and she was aware that if she pulled too hard, there was a good chance that it would split in two and spill the contents over the grass.

At that thought, her hands had fallen to her side and she watched the boy run away to his friends, the strap of her bag balanced precariously around his forefinger as if in an attempt to show off his mediocre strength. The laughs were growing louder. There were cries of disgust and mocking taunts from the now-larger crowd surrounding her bag. She was defeated...and then, in a unforeseen fit of rage, she felt it surge from her fingertips: the horrendible wave of anger that she could never succeed in suppressing. Laughter turned to screams, mocking glances turned to glares of horror and disbelief as the group clambered up from the ground, where they had suddenly all fallen to, and her bag was back at the base of the tree.

Elphaba returned her gaze to the floor. She couldn't look at her Father.

"Elphaba, look at me!" he instructed, this time in the normal roar that he knew would make his daughter comply.

"No, perhaps I can't help it." She responded to his earlier question.

This was a mistake. She could tell by the way the man's face contorted itself into a hard scowl. But this was about where it usually ended. All that was left was getting thrown a few more insults and a punishment or orders to stay in her room. Yet, it hadn't ended. He was still transfixed on her face. It wasn't exactly a scowl anymore, more of an empty stare. He was contemplating what he should do next, Elphaba figured.

She looked back down and saw him raising a hand. It wavered above his hip for a moment before continuing in its path. Her eyes followed it upwards but by the time she had registered what was about to happen, the hand was already whipping her emerald cheek.

He had slapped her.

Instinctively, she grabbed her cheek. It began to burn; the fire on her face grew hotter and hotter until it felt as if it were being pierced by thousands of burning needles.

There was a silence again- the bad kind of silence. Her Father wasn't looking at her any longer, he was looking down, just as she had been moments ago. He gave the floor a remorseful stare.

Elphaba could read him again. He didn't regret hurting her, he regretted doing it in a way that had tainted half of her face in an ugly purple. He regretted doing something that might harm his reputation. But Elphaba didn't think that he regretted harming his daughter...and maybe, Elphaba thought, she deserved it.

So...I hope that was somewhat entertaining and not too intense. I got kind of bored of it after a while so I really can't tell anymore.

Again, please review if you liked it, or if you want to give me any advice :)

Adios