Disclaimer: I don't own 'The Worst Witch' and the song 'Skyscraper' belongs to Demi Lovato. Not a massive fan of hers, but it's a really beautiful song, so I suggest you check it out.
A/N: Hello folks! *waves*
This is a songfic that was written for and is lovingly dedicated to my wonderful friend, the very talented and awesome HB rules. She said that I should publish it and I can't deny the request of the birthday girl, would be rude ...;)
LYLAS and Happy Birthday once more hunnii!
XxXxX
A/N - Edited 2013- song lyrics removed. I've worried for some time about copyright laws and have thus made the decision to remove the lyrics from any writing I have done. :)
All My Windows Still Are Broken, But I'm Standing On My Feet
Not a cloud had been present as the sun had lit up the sky; the majestic entity spreading across it. Sun-rays had glimmered brightly all day, twinkling in the light like precious jewels as they had danced across the vast expanse, exploding in a myriad of reds, oranges and yellows but now mother-nature was changing; the sun disappearing behind the newly formed clouds as the sky began to darken. For a moment there was nothing, time seemed to stop as the world watched on, patiently waiting; waves of silence rippled through the air like a gentle breeze, and then a single raindrop fell from the sky.
It fell in slow motion before plummeting downwards and hitting the ground below, splashing noisily against the cobbles of the courtyard. All it took for the heavens to open was for that one drop to fall, it was nothing more than a gentle pitter-patter at first but the sky soon gave in as it lost its battle; all its barriers breaking as it surrendered to the melancholic tears that were now pouring from its lonesome eyes. The sunshine that had brimmed in the sky only hours before was forgotten as the sky wept, raindrops continued to pound to the ground with spectacular force as the wind picked up in speed; it was getting stronger and spiraling more and more out of control as nature descended into anarchy. Students in their little gangs ran for cover from the beginnings of the storm that was brewing, their arms wrapped protectively around their textbooks as they tried to protect the books from the rain, and themselves from incurring the wrath of Mistress Heckitty Broomhead if they were in anything less than pristine condition.
From her window she watched on.
Constance Hardbroom stood at the window looking down at the chaos that was unfolding before her and wished so hard that she could be a part of it, but it was not to be. Like the princess in the fairytales she had adored as a little girl she was locked in the tallest tower, awaiting the arrival of the handsome prince who would come and rescue her and they would live happily ever after. Except in this story there was no prince, and there was certainly no happy ending. Instead the dragon was incapable of being slain; its flames just burned higher and stronger, more than enough to melt through the metal of any sword in a single breath.
Tentatively sticking her right hand out of the small arched window she felt her fingertips moisten as the lashing rain washed over them; the seemingly insignificant action was a small glimpse of life for the free. Life for those that weren't Heckitty Broomhead's 'favourite student', life for those that weren't the 'chosen one'; the one that had been hunted down and then singled out by the demonic tutor who was obsessed with her; transfixed by her power. Sensing her potential like a shark senses blood in the water but also sensing her weaknesses; weaknesses that had to be eliminated by any means possible.
Subconsciously she traced the pattern of scars on her wrist, marks that were forever burned into her flesh, there to serve as a constant reminder: the price paid for not getting things right first time...
A small sigh escaped from her lips, but as much as she longed for things to be different she knew that her fate had been sealed and to pretend otherwise would be futile; serving only to draw out her pain, so with one final lingering glance out of the window she turned her back on it, taking her seat back at the small wooden desk that was littered with sheets of paper: it was the only furniture in her box-sixed room bar a rickety wardrobe and a bed that was a stone's throw away from collapsing to the floor as it gave up its fight completely; that was something she could relate to easily enough. Every day, every hour, every minute in fact was a constant battle: a battle to succeed and a battle to survive.
Reading over her conclusion for the third time she paused momentarily, wondering why she even felt the need to: she knew the material for the essay inside out, having nothing but academia to numb her senses and keep her mind occupied, so she knew that she would pass with flying colours and she knew... that in Heckitty Broomhead's eyes nothing was ever good enough, and that perfection could easily be improved upon...
Question answered.
The room had been silent, the quiet broken only by the constant ticking from the clock and the scratching of quill against parchment, but now her sensitive ears pricked up at the one sound she wished they hadn't. It was a sound capable of chilling her to the very core, her blood turning to ice as it travelled through her veins. She listened carefully as the heels clicked against the flagstone of the corridor outside, it was a faint sound to start off with but it soon gained in volume as the occupant of them neared closer and closer.
'Click ... click ... click'
For a moment she couldn't move, she was completely frozen to the spot: she didn't move, she didn't even breathe as her eyes remained fixated on the door, completely oblivious to anything else around her: sounds, sight, smell; everything seemed lost for a few moments as the concept of time faded to nothing, but as soon as she heard the jangling of keys it snapped her out of her trance in an instant and she stood to attention at once; wincing slightly as she caught her rib on the edge of the table in her haste to make herself look presentable: a tidy appearance had been lesson one.
A stabbing pain rippled through her but she bit down hard on her lip in an attempt to override it; the need to keep composed was more important than ever. Betraying even the slightest flicker of emotion in front of Heckitty Broomhead was not advised; in fact it was all but a written rule, even the staff weren't immune to her rage and the punishment for breaking it was severe; known amongst those who had paid the price for their ignorance, but like so many aspects of WTC it was never discussed; not so much as a whisper ever past from their lips.
There was a small click as the key was turned, the hinges creaking as the door slowly opened and the demon stepped out from the shadows, choking the light that had been in the room. Closing the door and turning the key; her movements deliberately slow and exaggerated, she turned to face her terrified student, an evil smile spreading its way across her features. Heckitty's snake-like eyes bore into Constance's brown ones; wordlessly telling her that there was no escape. Not now; not ever, but daring her to try, if only so she could inflict a more severe punishment. She didn't say anything but then she didn't need to because her mere presence alone had the ability of scaring Constance absolutely witless, rendering her unable to string a sentence together. This was something they both knew, and it was something that Heckitty relished.
It was all about control.
The eyes continued to stare; it was like they were staring straight through her, looking deep into her very soul and reading her inner most thoughts. The gaze so intense she was too afraid to break eye-contact. Taking a deep breath she opened her mouth to speak but the eyes cut right through her and forced her to look away.
"G-good A-afternoon Mistress B-B-Broomhead" she finally managed to stammer.
"What have I told you about stuttering girl?" The question held a dangerous edge to it, something that wasn't helping in the slightest to calm Constance's nerves. She raised an eyebrow indicating that she was awaiting an answer and expected one sooner rather than later.
"Not too" Constance muttered almost inaudibly as she stared at the ground.
"So why, despite my telling you countless of times do you continue to do so? Are you so stupid that you even can't follow a basic instruction?"
"I-"
She could feel the beginnings of tears well up in her eyes and quickly blinked them away; if even so much as one teardrop fell she knew that she would be in big trouble. Tears as she had been told on a daily basis, the words drummed into her from day one, were a sign of weakness and weakness was a sign of failure, and there was most certainly no place at WTC for failures; Heckitty wouldn't allow for the good name of the college to be tarnished because of a weak link, this she knew and all too well, but there was a small part of her that wanted the tears to fall, in some mad act of wistful thinking that she might get thrown out and would never have to encounter Heckitty Broomhead ever again but on the rare chance that did happen she knew she wouldn't be much better off.
She would have nothing.
In fact she had nothing: no family, no money and no home. Heckitty had Constance right where she wanted her; she was holding all the cards and they both knew that she had no choice but to play the game.
"No Mistress Broomhead."
"And?"
"Sorry Mistress Broomhead."
"Well what are you waiting for girl? Essay, now!"
She could feel her tutor watching her as she moved towards the desk and it sent a shiver down her spine; it was unnatural to watch someone like that, it was like an invasion of their rights.
"Today would be nice Constance. You are seriously on thin ice today my girl!"
The underlying threat in Heckitty's sentence forced Constance into action, knowing that her tutor wouldn't hesitate on carrying out whatever punishment she felt like inflicting on her; whether she deserved it or not, and picking the essay pages up she handed them to her, desperately trying to control the shaking in her hand. Rather than taking them and leaving like she usually did Heckitty stood in the room and skimmed the essay whilst Constance stood opposite her shaking like a leaf; praying that everything was correct, praying that her tutor would leave and praying that she would soon wake up from this never-ending nightmare she seemed to be trapped in, unable to escape, no matter how many times she opened her eyes.
Pursing her lips Heckitty exhaled even just skim reading it she could see that, despite her young age, Constance clearly knew what she was talking about but rather than feel pride in her student she felt anger, and a little jealously. Witchcraft and the knowledge seemed to come easily to this young witch; the essay scrawled with an almost effortless style, whereas for her it hadn't been that simple. She had to study so much harder when she was younger to get things to stick in her head. She could feel the rage bubbling up inside her and threatening to erupt; like cauldron about to bubble over, and raising her hand she backhanded the young witch in front of her.
The force of the blow knocked Constance off her delicate frame and sent her crashing onto the unforgiving flagstone, clutching her stinging cheek as she fought to keep the tears at bay. It was already starting to redden from the force of the slap; the mark standing out against her porcelain skin.
"It doesn't do to get complacent dear. Now I expect to see you in," she broke off and glanced at the clock, "20 minutes for your private tutorial. Not a minute before or after. Be warned."
"Yes Mistress Broomhead" she practically whispered.
Heckitty threw the essay pages at her; they scattered as they fluttered through the air before falling to the ground. Her eyes flicked towards the pages and Constance obediently bent down to pick them up when Heckitty stepped forwards, the heel of her shoe slamming directly onto her fragile wrist. Hot salty tears stung Constance's eyes as Heckitty stood listening gleefully to her scream reverberate around the small room, twisting her foot she increased the pressure, still relishing in the sweet symphony of her student's scream; it was music to her ears. For Constance however, it was agonising; she felt sure she was going to pass out from the pain.
"P-Please ... stop ...s-s-to-"
"P-Please ... stop ... s-s-to-"Heckitty mocked taking pleasure in her obvious distress.
After minutes, that had seemed more like hours, she finally released her foot and Constance breathed a sigh of relief, but it didn't last long before the next onslaught began. Raising her foot Heckitty booted her hard in the stomach and the ribs. "You are pathetic!" Grabbing her by the hair she dragged her to her feet; her grip so strong Constance could feel clumps of her hair tearing out.
"Nothing but a useless, weak-willed, stupid little girl!"
She kicked the back of her leg before letting her go, and with her legs unable to support her Constance had nothing to stop herself from falling as she crashed onto the floor. Heading towards the door Heckitty paused after opening it; her eyes staring down at her weakened prey "But I'll soon change that, worry not..." with that she left.
Constance lay curled up on the cold floor, the tears now streaming freely down her cheeks as she cradled her stomach and ribs with her aching wrist that was surely broken, all the while wondering.
'why me?'
Just five short months had passed since she had been at Witch Training College, but it felt like so much longer; each second that passed by seemed slower than the last, in fact time seemed to come to a complete standstill. Yes, it was only five months but to her it felt like a lifetime: a never-ending lifetime. For the past five months she'd had the pleasure, or misfortune as most would look upon it, of having Heckitty Broomhead as her personal tutor. For the past five months she had been put through absolute hell on a daily basis at the hands of this monster of a woman. Isolated from everyone else; left with only four walls, her own mind and a pile of spells and potions books to keep her company.
She didn't understand what she had done so wrong.
To deserve...this?
She didn't understand why this woman wanted her to suffer so much; she seemed to hate her ... really hate her. If anything it should've been the other way around, it should've been her that hated Heckitty, and she did.
The older witch had invaded a happy home filled with love and torn a family apart; she'd ripped everything to shreds, leaving only tatters in its wake. Heckitty made her watch as she murdered her parents; ignoring their pleas for mercy and ignoring her screams, she killed the two people that she loved and depended on more than anything else in the world; the curse tearing through their bodies almost instantly. Constance had watched the light die from her parents' eyes, not really understanding what had happened, but old enough to know that this woman was a bad witch.
She had tried to run but her feet were rooted to the spot; her eyes never leaving her parents wanting to memorise every little thing about them, knowing it was her last chance to do so. Grabbing her by the wrist Heckitty had dragged her outside and down the path; her sharp nails digging into the youthful skin, puncturing it and causing it to bleed. Still ignoring Constance's screams and efforts to escape from her grasp she continued to drag her along until they were a safe enough distance away from the house before she stopped and, conjuring a ball of fire sent it in the direction of the house, casually examining her nails as it exploded. Debris flew through the air, glass shattering everywhere as flames engulfed the house, at first they just licked at the building, but they soon rose higher and higher.
She could smell the fire as it burned and she could see its destructive effects. This woman had just killed her parent's and now all she could do was watch on, sobbing uncontrollably on the damp ground as her childhood home burnt to ashes; just like her childhood would.
It was a memory that was etched into her mind and would remain with her until her dying day, sometimes when she closed her eyes late at she would see it as it all unfolded before her again. She would hear screaming; smell the burning; so vivid it was like it was happening there in front of her. She always hoped that the outcome would be different, but nothing ever changed.
From the word go she was made to change, she had no say in the matter; it was an order, not a request: something she very quickly learned. Her dark hair that had once cascaded down her back like Rapunzel as she'd played happily in the garden was now worn up in a bun, pulled into such a tight knot she felt her scalp was on fire. Gone were the pretty floral dresses, they were replaced by plain black ones: there was no colour, no sparkle; just like her life now.
She was no longer the young and innocent Connie, she was Constance: Connie had died the day Heckitty had taken everything from her.
Not only had she taken everything from her but she had relished doing it. She'd told her over and over again that it had all been for her own good, but she knew that was a lie: it wasn't for her own good; it was for Heckitty's own good. She'd shattered a family, shattered a little girl, all for her own selfish gain.
Her spirit was quickly crushed; the spark for life that had once danced in her eyes extinguished to nothing but darkness. Heckitty didn't see her as a child, she didn't even see her as a person, she just saw her as a plaything, a ragdoll; something to toy with purely for her own sick amusement. Like clay she had squashed her, and then remoulded her into the perfect protégée. Her opinion didn't come into it. Not once. Heckitty didn't ask what she wanted. She didn't care what she wanted. In her eyes it was simple: Constance bent to her will, or she suffered the consequences for her disobedience.
And yet even bending to that will, it never enough, it wasn't even close. It didn't matter what she did or how hard she would try; it just wasn't enough and Heckitty would make that more than clear at every opportunity possible. Every insult was designed to sting: it cut through her confidence and stripped her down to nothing. Which was exactly how she felt: like nothing.
'Useless'
'Failure'
'Weak'
Hearing it often enough made her start to believe it; it made her start to doubt herself and her abilities: every bruise and scar inflicted on her, every mark that tainted her flawless skin, was a permanent reminder.
Slowly she got to her feet and trying not to put pressure on her injured wrist, stumbled towards the bathroom clutching her ribs.
Everything ached.
Holding a wet facecloth to her throbbing cheek she stared into the mirror and looked at her own sorry reflection as it stared back at her: she barely recognised herself. Her cheek was bright red from the force of Heckitty's palm, she had a cut on her bottom lip from when she'd hit the floor and her eyes were swollen and puffy from crying; dried in tear tracks visible on her hollow cheeks. She was just a child, yet this person staring back at her was...her.
Horrified at her own image she averted her gaze from the mirror before her eyes swivelled back to it as she gasped for it was not only her reflection she could see. The facecloth fell to the floor as her eyes lit up upon seeing the two people she loved more than anything in the world.
"Mummy...Daddy...?"
She reached out and touched the glass, desperately trying to reach her parents, but her fingers just met with the coldness of the glass; a barrier that kept them from each other.
"Help me ... please ... help me?" she whispered. Withdrawing her hand she brought it up to her mouth as muffled sobs escaped.
She watched as her parent's expressions changed to a smile; it was the smile she knew and loved, it was such a reassuring smile; a smile that said they believed in her, that they believed she could do it.
Their image shimmered before fading away, leaving only her.
She was alone.
Again.
"Don't go..." she choked, her breath constricted in her throat.
As much as she wanted it to be, she knew the image in front of her wasn't real. Her mind had clearly conjured up her parents to try and ease the killing ache of loneliness inside her, part of her thought it a cruel trick knowing that she would never see them again, that they would never snuggle up on the couch together as they read a story, but the other part of her took some solace from their smile.
If they believed she could do it, then she would. She would make them proud.
She couldn't let Heckitty win.
In fact, she wasn't going to let Heckitty win. The woman had already taken so much from her: her mother, her father, her home, childhood, her spirit ... and she couldn't let her take anymore because then she really would have nothing left.
Staring back at the mirror she was once again staring at her own reflection, but instead of her eyes being full of emptiness, there was now a spark of something else: determination.
She would succeed.
Sitting on the stage, listening to Heckitty as she droned on mindlessly about how they had only become great witches because of her, she dared to dream. Dream of a future that had once upon a time seemed only a fantasy, nothing but an illusion sent to toy with her but now she had done it ... somehow she had survived.
Years of pain and tears; screams and hour upon hour of studying and practicing until her skills were honed to perfection had all led up to this one moment.
Graduation.
There had been days, many of them in fact when she thought she might not survive; when she had welcomed the cold grasp of death that would snatch her from the cruel world and allow her to reunite with her parents, but she had pushed on. Picked herself up time and time again, cleaning up the cuts and bruises and then carrying on and now she was graduating with First Class Honours in Potions, and the highest results the college had had in decades, but more important than that, in just a few short hours she would have what she had craved for years.
Freedom.
Finally she could escape. It was something she'd longed for; at times it had been the only thing that got her through it all. The knowledge that one day she would be free, finally able to escape from Heckitty Broomhead, finally able to spread her wings and soar; like a phoenix rising from the ashes.
Her freedom was within her reach; she was so close she could almost taste it.
Her pace slowed as she neared the gates of WTC, for so long she had dreamed of escaping, but now it was actually happening it was a different story. As hellish as WTC was it had been her safety net, it was all she knew and now she had to set foot in the world: she didn't know if she was ready. Then there was the part of her long used to disappointment that believed it too good to be true, believing that as soon as she walked through the gates something bad would happen; that Heckitty Broomhead would be there, laughing at her before she stopped her from leaving, trapping her in her clutches for all eternity.
But she didn't. Nothing happened.
Walking through the gates and crossing the threshold, she left its grounds forever. Finally freedom was hers... and the feeling was overwhelming. She didn't know how to feel, her mind a mixture of tumultuous emotions. Her legs shook as they walked over grass she hadn't seen in so long and she felt the shackles of oppression fall and whilst she knew she wouldn't have true freedom right away, still haunted by the realms of her own mind; she hoped that one day she would.
No matter what happened though she had to look forward, she couldn't look back.
This was the future... her future.
She felt that she had a chance at one now. Upon finding out she wouldn't do all the great things her tutor had planned for her Heckitty had refused to give her any form of reference but it didn't matter now as before the ceremony she'd had the most surreal experience.
Sitting on an old wooden bench in the grounds of the college; it was a place she had sat many times over the years, alone with her thoughts, enjoying what little free time she was granted away from her studies, she had been startled out of her reverie and had opened her eyes to find a woman of about forty years old standing in front of her. This woman knew nothing about her and yet had offered her a job; was willing to give her a chance.
She had a chance at a fresh start, to make a life for herself and she was going to grab it with both hands and never look back.
Unbeknown to her Heckitty was standing in the middle of the courtyard watching her; her eyes fixated on the younger witch as she left the grounds of her college. She felt angered; she'd taught Constance everything, turned her into a great witch and Constance had thrown it back in her face by refusing to do all the great things her tutor had planned for her ... had expected of her. All to go off and work in some second rate witches school. Oh yes, she knew all about Constance's new job at Cackle's Academy. Still, she decided, she would let her leave ... for now.
Let her think she was free and then somewhere in the future, down the line she would turn up and send her former student into a blind panic.
She would break her down and belittle her; leave her in no doubt as to just who was in charge and who was in control.
Constance would regret declining her offer.
Perched elegantly on her broom Constance flew over the land, looking down every so often at the landscape below her; she had always appreciated nature in all its beauty: from the time she had played in the snow with her parents, noticing how the plants had frozen over, their pretty petals covered in tiny icicles, to the time she had stood at the window of her small room at the college; watching as the sun had faded and the rain had fallen unyieldingly to the ground.
That day seemed a distant memory now, but there had been many others like it; the seasons may change but it was always the same.
Heckitty would bully and belittle her, slowly chipping away bit by bit, until she had destroyed her completely.
She would leave her broken, bruised and bleeding on the cold floor, in the dark and all alone.
Sometimes she would leave her there all night.
Yet this had only made her stronger; more resilient.
More determined.
Eventually her screams that had once reverberated around the room; screams that could be heard throughout the walls of the college died to nothing. Instead they were replaced by a stony silence as her composure stayed intact on the surface. The agony still tore through every inch of her body as her own magic was used to harm her; her body felt like it was on fire as raw energy coursed through her veins, travelling through every cell and muscle. The slaps still stung for hours afterwards and the poisonous insults still hurt, but she couldn't give the older witch the satisfaction of knowing that.
She wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing that.
It would only give Heckitty even more power and control over her. Like a master working its puppeteer.
Flying over the gates Constance nose-dived into the courtyard before she pulled up to a perfect landing. Straightening her robes and hair she turned and took in the magnificent sight that lay before her. There lay the castle: its lofty turrets an impressive height. It was breathtaking ... this was Cackle's Academy.
This was the first day of the rest of her life.
She couldn't believe it.
More to the point she didn't want to believe it.
Heckitty Broomhead ... was coming to Cackles.
She had foolishly believed she'd escaped from the past but it seemed like it was impossible to do for here it was years later, still chasing her. After all this time her safe place had been discovered, her sanctuary disturbed by the hornet's nest.
When she'd first heard about the upcoming school inspection she'd felt rather enthusiastic about it; an outside eye might be able to suggest one or two changes that would be of great benefit to the school and the girls, but the minute those three words had fallen from Amelia Cackle's lips; the minute she'd heard the name that still haunted her very existence to the core she lost all awareness, all sense of time as she fell into the chasms of her own mind; the room had spun before her and she'd slowly sunk into a chair before her legs gave out on her and sent her crashing to the floor. Then there was the obvious concern from her colleagues, whilst she knew they had good intentions it was like a knife in her heart. She didn't want their pity, she couldn't have their pity.
Pity was for the weak, she had to be strong.
Somehow ...she had to get through this inspection.
"It's an honour to make your acquaintance again Mistress Broomhead."
The words couldn't have been further from the truth; it was many things, but an honour was not one of them. It felt more like a punishment. Yet again she wondered what she could possibly have done in life to have this relentless woman hounding her for what she now knew would continue until her dying day.
Standing alongside Miss Cackle she watched as her former tutor left the grounds of the school, it was obvious she couldn't leave quick enough. The inspection hadn't exactly started off very successful and in the meeting Heckitty had been more than vocal about her feelings.
"The school is even more of a shambles than I expected it to be..."
"...The teaching is patchy to say the least..."
"...The pupils are underachieving ..."
"... but the real indictment is the distressing quality of your paperwork..."
"Clearly this is an ailing school that can only benefit by having its GAS removed..."
That one sentence had been enough to make her heart stop; she had truly thought that was it. If the school was closed then she would be right back to where she started and yet again Heckitty would've taken from her. She wouldn't have a job, but Cackle's was so much more than just a job to her. It was her whole life.
It was her family.
Amelia was like the mother that had been cruelly taken from her all too soon; over the years she'd slowly begun to break through the wall that she'd built around her heart to keep herself from being hurt. Amelia didn't know everything, and she never would, for the past was not a route she wished to ever revisit, but knowing that she cared for her like a mother does a daughter meant more to her than anyone would ever know. The wounds of the past had slowly begun to heal and in the main it was down to Cackles Academy and the people in it.
She knew she had to do something, but she didn't know what she could do, and she certainly didn't want anyone else to get hurt.
In the end it was the girls that had saved the day. With the inadvertent discovery, thanks to their ingenuity and also Miss Cackle, that Heckitty Broomhead was once Wilhelmina Wormwood and all the chaos that she'd caused in her youth, they had made a deal; a pact, found a way to keep their school open and a way to keep their little family together.
Reputation was something Heckitty Broomhead valued above all else, it was everything to her and if her secret was ever to get out it would have serious repercussions for her place in society. She would go from being top of the chain, to the bottom of the barrel; no one would want anything to do with her and she would lose all respect, power and control that she commanded. Her secret couldn't get out, it just couldn't; she'd worked too damn hard to let it all slip through her fingers. Cackles truly had her over a barrel; she'd had no choice but to let them pass the inspection with flying colours. She was far from happy about it but seeing Constance still squirm and stutter under her watchful gaze had compensated to an extent: the woman was still terrified of her, that much was certain.
Later that night, as she retired to her chamber, Constance couldn't help but reflect on the past. It was only natural after coming face to face with her worst nightmare again, after all those years of attempting to put bad memories and the past to rest.
Heckitty certainly hadn't changed, that much was certain. She was still as manipulative, still as callous and still as controlling as she'd ever been. She'd walked into the school and within minutes she'd torn them all to pieces before trying to close it down.
Her tongue was just as vicious.
"I wish I could say the pleasure was mine. I'm surprised Constance to find such a promising student as you, ending up in an establishment like this."
Her eyes had cast around the hall briefly in such distaste, like she could catch a disease just from being in close proximity of the castle.
"And as for you Constance I must say I am deeply disappointed. All the training I gave you is obviously going to waste."
"I am deeply disappointed"
The words echoed in her ears.
She didn't even know why she cared; she'd tried for years to seek approval from Heckitty and had never got it, she'd never even got so much as a well done or a good try: it was always 'try harder' or 'it's not good enough.' There was never praise, it was just criticism. It was just like ... she was now with Mildred Hubble.
Drumming her fingers on the window ledge she sighed, it wasn't that Mildred was a bad witch; in fact she was quite the opposite. She had so much potential within her, raw talent that had yet to shine through, she always tried her best even if it did end in disaster the majority of the time. It was just confidence she was missing: the belief in herself and her own convictions.
What Mildred did possess though was a rare quality; she harnessed a bravery not seen by many of the most advanced witches and wizards in the field. She stood up for what she believed in and always tried to help people out. She had such a kind heart and her eyes viewed the world through rose tinted glasses; a bit like she had herself when she was much younger than Mildred, before Heckitty had ripped her life to shreds.
The more she thought about it there were many of her own traits that she could see in the younger witch today. Mildred had it in her to become a great witch, she just needed a bit of guidance and she was going to give it to her. She was going to help Mildred to become that great witch she knew she was destined to be. Give her the support and encouragement that she herself was always denied; show Heckitty that she hadn't won, that there were other ways of teaching and prove to herself that she was nothing like her former tutor.
Because the minute she crossed that line; the minute she found herself raising a hand to a student, then life really wouldn't be worth living and she herself would be no better than the woman that had taught her all she knew, but with a heavy price tag.
The sky crackled as thunder tore through the air. It had started to rain and as she stood at the window watching it fall, it was reminiscent of all those years ago except this time she had her freedom: she was no longer the scared little girl locked away in the cold and dark, instead she was a force to be reckoned with. A strong, dependable and powerful witch; she was the one that everyone relied on, depended on, needed. She was the one that made the school feel safe.
Whether she liked it or not Heckitty Broomhead was a part of her past; a part of her and there would never truly be any way of getting away from that, but after everything the older witch had done to her, after everything she had put her through, she was still here and she was still standing.
Against all the odds she had survived.
Whether it was fate or just mere coincidence that had led her to meet Amelia on the day she was graduating, and had subsequently brought her to Cackles Academy, she didn't know but she did know that she was eternally grateful for it.
For she had found somewhere she belonged.