The feelings she'd felt that night had never left her. When the innocent girl had walked out and dumped a bucket of water on her best friend, who had proceeded to melt into nothingness and non-existence, Glinda had felt something she couldn't even explain. She remembered waiting in the wings and watching; screaming so loud she couldn't even hear the words, clutching the Grimmerie so tight she thought her knuckles would pop out of her skin, before blacking out completely.
Many years had passed, but Glinda hadn't bothered to count them. In fact, she had lost track of time altogether. Mockbegger Hall felt more like a prison now than a home. Although she hardly did anything anymore, she tried her hardest to push those thoughts out of her mind. Because ultimately it was her fault. No matter how hard she tried to deny it, Elphie probably wouldn't be dead now if it wasn't for her.
If she was truly honest with herself, it was all because she was jealous. Jealous of her best friend capturing the eye of the most swankified guy around. How shallow and self absorbed was that? She'd told the Wizard Elphaba's one weakness and, in a desperate bid to capture her, he and Madame Morrible had pounced. Of course, Glinda had never intended for anyone to be hurt, but in truth it was her actions that led to Nessarose's death and Dorothy landing in Munchkinland. She couldn't deny that.
It just showed what superficial priorities she'd had back then, back when she was the princess at dear old Shiz. Back in the days when she was dancing through life. Back then she was beautiful and popular and hadn't a care in the world. Everyone loved her. But since that fateful night when she had lost her best friend, she'd been so introverted and uninterested in life most people wouldn't remember who she was, which was unheard of for someone who was once a public figure. Elphaba's death had changed her. Who could say if she'd been changed for the better though?
She had honoured Elphaba's dying wish though; she'd kept the Grimmerie and not cleared her friend's name. It was the least she could do, after all. At least she knew she meant as much to Elphie as Elphie did to her. So Oz didn't know the truth about the Wicked Witch of the West. And Elphaba was determined to keep it that way.
How she wished she could turn back the clocks and change everything. But wishing only wounds the heart. And Glinda's heart had already been broken too many times.
But nothing could change the past and now they were all gone. Fiyero was gone, Nessa was gone and so was Elphaba. But did that really matter? After all, no one mourned the wicked.
But Glinda did.