A/N: This is an exceedingly random thing I thought of. Who knew I could be so creative? By the way, people, you better review, because if my self-esteem goes any lower I think I'll spontaneously melt! Random, but it was the only thing I could think of. I couldn't say combust, because that happens when you get too high a self-esteem. How do I know this? Maybe I watched someone's head combust while they were being cocky. And now I realize this is too random and pointless for my taste.
Disclaimer: I do not own Wicked, though I really wish I did. But I know the truth. I never will! sob
I was defeated by a wretched little farm girl. Or that's what everyone else thought.
Liir held me in his arms, looking at me as if I was dead. Perhaps he thought I was, because I was frozen in shock.
He named me Fabala, and nicknamed me Fae. And then I got a weird sense of deja vu.
Eventually, I got old enough to speak. I was about one when I learned to speak, but three when I showed I could. Liir was ecstatic, because he had thought something was wrong with me; I didn't speak a word until then. He cuddled me, and, reluctantly, I didn't protest.
Now I'm a pugnacious ten-year-old, going to school. Of course, everyone was appalled because of my green skin. They thought that no one else had it. Well, they didn't know that technically, I was the same person. But I wouldn't tell them that; if I did, they would probably come to my door and one o'clock in the morning with flaming torches and pitchforks.
So I had to face what I had faced through my other childhood, and it was just as bad. Perhaps worse, because people feared me, as I was a reminder of the 'Wicked Witch of the West' whose death their parents had celebrated only a few decades ago.
Today, as I was in the cafeteria at our school, the whispered gossip and taunting drifting through the air, someone pushed me hard, and knocked over a glass of water that was on a table. I hadn't noticed it; if I had, I'd would never have went near it. But it spilled, and I slipped on it and skidded and fell. Luckily, only my knuckles went in contact with it, and even though that meant they'd be blistered for a few hours, I felt fortunate that I didn't melt.
But I was livid. The evil child who had pushed me stared at me in horror, and it took me a few moments to realize that my hands were balled up into small green fists. The air was crackling around me, filled with static. Small sparks flew from my hands, and I felt a wonderful, powerful energy surge through me. That lovely energy burst out of my hands and made its way towards the panic-stricken boy who was flung backwards, into the opposite wall, making a very noticeable dent. My eyes widened, and I realized the enormity of what I had done. I felt my strength leave me, leaving me vulnerable and weak. The room began to spin. And then I fainted right on the floor, with over a hundred eyes watching the show.
I woke up at home with Liir standing over me, looking worried and angry.
"Fabala, how could you lose control like that?" He asked, as I sat there yawning tiredly, attempting to figure out what had happened. Finallly it came to me, how I had lost control. Wait. I didn't even know I had control!
"Father, what do you mean, lose control? I never had any control! I never knew I could . . .could hurt people like that!" My voice cracked on the word voice, and as I started bawling, my own salty tears burning my cheeks as if red hot coals were being pressed to my emerald green cheeks. He was shocked at my sudden tantrum and hugged me, muttering things I couldn't hear. After a while of me and him sitting like that, my sobs died down and he unglued himself from my trembling body. I looked like I was having a minor seizure.
"I'll have you home-schooled; we can't risk this happening again." He said serenely, and I nodded, trying to get myself back together. As he exited my room, I hopped off my bed and ambled over to the black-lined mirror I had hanging on the opposite wall. My cheeks were red, and there were bright red lines on my face where the tears had been. It looked as if I had cried blood. I retrieved a towel from my dresser and furiously wiped at my cheeks. Some of the red and the salty tears came off, but I still looked as if I had smeared my own face in my own blood. It would stay like that for a couple of hours. I'm lucky I'm going to be home-schooled.
I wandered back to my bed and laid my head on my dark blue pillow, hoping I would never 'lose control' ever again. That is, if I ever found out what exactly I had control of.