Why do I want him still?
Why when there's nothing there?
How to go on with the rest of my life
To pretend I don't care
She felt like the wind was knocked out of her. Fiyero had left her. He was gone. He didn't love her, not really. He didn't want to be with her. He didn't want anything to do with her. He'd stood beside her, quietly keeping his opinions to himself, while she glittered and smiled all the way to the top. She'd never seen him as unhappy as the day when Morrible announced their engagement.
It wasn't a surprise really that he would decide to leave her. It shouldn't have been.
But it still hurt.
But what now? What in Oz now? The six year old girl in the back of her heart was screaming that no, true love never dies, no they belonged together. She had always thought she would go to school, marry, become a society dame, and live happily ever after.
What the hell now? She only let herself cry for a moment, let herself scream and cry in the privacy of her bedchamber. She tore a feather pillow, the feathers floating around the room. She ripped the sheets off of her bed. She yanked her engagement ring off and threw it down, and ripped the diamond pendent off of her neck. She looked up. A mirror caught her attention, and she approached it like a curious child.
Her eyes were red-rimmed. Makeup spilled down her face, smearing her beauty. Her hair was wild, feral blonde curls. In her anger she had torn the bottom of her gown. Angry at the mirror for showing her the painful truth, she picked up a silver hairbrush.
The mirror cracked into a thousand shards of glass, all reflecting her image back at her. The mirror wasn't destroyed, it had multiplied, mocking her, showing her the truth, the ugly, painful truth. She tried to stomp the pieced into the carpet, but tripped, the glass cutting her legs and the palms of her hands.
He doesn't love me. He loves her. He loves her. He loves her, he loves her, he loves her. He always loved her and he never loved me.
Then she slowly stood up. She wiped the trickles of blood away from herself, cleaning the glass from the floor. She changed into a pale blue gown. She placed her ring and necklace on her vanity. She collected the feathers from her pillow and threw them away. She remade her bed.
She refused to be seen as anything but perfect. She knew the truth... she knew the truth, far too late.
