Living Angel: Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own them

Nightmare from Oz

Nessarose had only torn up the Yellow Brick Road, mused the Scarecrow. She had never rebuilt it as promised. And she never would. Today was the first anniversary of her death.

"Why didn't she rebuild it?" he wondered aloud. After all she always used to complain that the loose cobblestones made travel hazardous. Indeed it did, he thought as the fabric that made up his shoe caught on a stone. And he continued on his stumbling grumbling way to the Emerald City.

Meanwhile a figure lurked stealthily beneath the road. She cursed softly as a fallen brick caught beneath her own feet. She tossed her head, shaking the hood of her shawl back to rest on her shoulders. Ebony curls glinted in the dim light and she laughed cruelly at the Scarecrow's displeasure. Nessarose Thropp was alive.

As another brick caught beneath the wheelchair, Nessa thought grimly of her pampered childhood, when she was often left in Elphaba's care. Elphaba was…wounded, Nessa remembered, because she never received Father's attention. Oh, Elphaba hoped for awhile, but when she had no more hope, she retreated into herself, her hurt masked by her open anger and her abuse of Nessa. But what Elphaba was too self centered to see, to understand, was that Nessa too, was hurting.

Everyone thought Nessa a witch. At the age of 11 she discovered her first curse- beauty. Things had slowly begun to change for the sisters, began to look up. At night, after chores were complete, Elphaba would curl up in bed next to Melena and listened to her tell stories of " faraways and future days." Nanny would tuck Nessa into bed and dim the oil lam that lit her musty bedroom.

When Nanny had gone, Frex would call out " Are you ready for bed, my pet?"

"Yes daddy" Her voice was a low whisper. Then Frex would glide to the doorway, lithe as a cheetah.

"But you've forgotten Daddy's kiss," he's whine.

"I'm sorry daddy," she'd answer meekly.

Frex was instantly all smiles again. He would turn out the lamp, and pull back Nessa's covers, watching as her newly formed breasts rose and flushed from the draft. Then he'd be on top of her, twisting against her with a moan as he entered. His hands and lips would wander, caressing first her cheeks-nose-lips-eyes-hair, then her nipples. He would pause, linger there, then continue. Lower. Lower. Lower. He'd twist his fingers into her hair there, till she cried out with agony. His hand would clamp over her mouth and she'd feign sleep. Only then would he leave, leave her alone to bear the leaden pain. She ached counting the minutes, hours, until it became a dull throbbing pulse in the very core of her being. And she would lie awake, waiting for the dawn, when all monsters would be forced to hide.