Disclaimer: I don't own 'The Worst Witch'

A/N: Thank you to those who have reviewed this fic. I finally got around to writing this chapter since I figured I may as well make use of the bank holiday and having a day off. :)

Just a note to remember that these are all individual little one-shots set across certain periods of time. I suppose you could call them little snapshots of scenes? Most link in with the two episodes from the series, and as a whole they do - in theory- very loosely tie together with a nice silver ribbon. :)


Chapter 2

Fear

Sliding the lock on the door and hearing the reassuring sound as it clicked into place, she let out a shuddery breath and stood with her back up against the door; her brown eyes closing as she desperately tried to remain in control and her legs turning to jelly underneath her as they refused to support her weight. It felt like the day had lasted for a lifetime but now she was finally safe to hide out in the sanctity of her own room; away from the prying eyes and whispers, she had dealt with all day, when they had thought that she was not there or could not hear them.

The trouble was she did not feel safe, not in the slightest.

The ticking from the clock echoed around the room in a tune of mocking triumph, satisfied in knowing that time could not be stopped nor manipulated. The sands of time would continue to pour away, trickling little by little, grain by grain, until they would be no more. The time would soon come and with it bring her day of judgement.

It was a thought that made her feel sick.


Her normally impressive stature seemed to disappear and she had never looked as small as she perched herself on the edge of the bed, her shoulders drooping as her posture slumped. The revelation of the day had exhausted her and exhausted the pretence, drudging up memories and provoking thoughts she thought she had buried many years ago, but to no avail. It seemed that the past never stayed buried for long and hers was about to rear its ugly head once more, in the form of her former tutor from witch training college...

She was unable to keep her hand from shaking as she raised the glass of water to her lips in an attempt to quell her recent onset of nausea, the glass clinking against her teeth under the vibrations from her unsteady hand.

Constance Hardbroom could never be accused as a woman who scared easily. Nothing ever seemed to faze her and she was never ever one to back down from putting herself in danger – especially if her own life came at the expense of saving others, but even she had her breaking point; an Achilles heel, and hers came in the form of Mistress Heckitty Broomhead.

Even after all these years, the mere mention of the name alone was still enough to send her into a state of frenzy. She was still plagued with haunting, nightmares of those snake-like eyes that bore into her own; a simple glance that could somehow reach deep into her soul and tear everything from it, leaving her nothing but an empty and broken shell; a perfect little carbon copy of her puppeteer, just like the rest of them...

...and yet so different.

She had been unfortunate; she had been singled out; she had been the tyrant's so called 'protégée.'

She had been cursed.


The revelation of tomorrow's inspection and most specifically, the identity of the inspector had completely floored her; it was the last thing she had ever expected. All day her usually logical mind had slowly been coming undone, as she had struggled to hold it together, fighting a losing battle against herself to contain the barrage of emotions that were threatening to burst from the dam and shatter her usual air of confidence and control.

Truthfully, her reaction in the staffroom earlier that day had been nothing. It had just been an immediate reaction; an instant reflex as her usual thoughts associated with her ex-tutor's name had voiced their presence, but since then, the true depth of the news had been working its way into her mind, twisting itself into the contours, and now...

...it was finally beginning to sink in...

Her whole body shook as her emotions took hold, past memories flashing before her eyes like a film reel and her own screams reverberating in her head as she relived the past so vividly it was like it was happening all over again right in that very moment.

The glass fell from her grasp, the water sloping over the flagstone and the glass shattering, the shards flying through the air, before landing on the flagstone like broken pieces of a mosaic.


The sound of smashing glass broke into her thoughts, snapping her out of her reverie and bringing her back to the present. It was at that point the clock chimed: the passing of the hour bringing her one step closer to her worst nightmare coming true; the period of time remaining was growing shorter and shorter by the minute, as the doomsday deadline neared and, like the time would, her options ran out.

It did not matter how many times she tried lying to herself, convincing herself that this time things would be different and that she could handle Heckitty Broomhead, in fact, she could more than handle Heckitty Broomhead, because she couldn't even draw the conviction to say it, let alone believe her own words, so how could she possibly fool anyone else? More importantly how could she fool the very monster herself?

Despite her great power, she felt like a child again: defenceless and scared, she was more scared than anyone would ever know and she could tell no one. Once again, the dark secrets were her own to carry; the burden falling on her narrow shoulders and she felt like she was suffocating underneath the weight of them.

She just wanted to cry.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she felt her emotions flood to the surface and, just like the glass had done previously, the mask fell and shattered to the ground. Hot salty tears outwith her control stung her eyes and smudged her mascara as they trailed down her cheeks, tainting her porcelain complexion and leaving a mark; staining the perfectionism she worked so hard to portray.

The iron cage buckled as the resident ice-queen melted to a puddle on the floor and cried the tears she had not shed for years as she silently pleaded with whichever deity listening just to make it all go away.


There was a paranoia she had not felt since her days of witch training college slowly creeping into her mind and festering away inside of her. It was making her suspicious and mistrustful of everything around her; in her eyes, everything was out to get her.

Glancing at the clock again, her vision blurred by tears, she noticed how it seemed to be toying with her. The hours were passing by too quickly yet seemed to be dragging in at exactly the same time; each second ticking by at an agonisingly slow pace, seemingly determined to prolong her suffering for as long as it possibly could whilst it ticked away, basking in glee at her obvious turmoil.

'Tick tock...tick tock.'

The flame from the candle flickered, its movement creating shadows as it danced its way across the wall, twisting and turning, this way and that, reaching out like a hand ready to grab in her in its tight clutches.

'Tick tock...tick tock.'

Digging her nails into the palm of her hand and drawing blood, she tried to focus on the pain and block out everything else. She did not want to acknowledge that as time passed the hour ticked closer. The hour where she would have no choice but to confront a past she had tried so hard to run from and with it a woman who had haunted her for as long as she could remember and who would no doubt continue to, until her dying day.

'Tick tock...tick tock.'

She did not want to acknowledge it, yet her mind could think of nothing else as she stared at the blank wall in front of her, lost in a trance, going over it again and again; obsessing over every little detail to the point of triggering a near panic attack as she envisioned scenario after scenario, with every image her throat constricting and her heart rate spiking that bit higher as fear flooded through her veins like ice.

Tick tock...tick tock.'

She knew she couldn't leave the academy and leave them to deal with Broomhead. It would be selfish, she knew that. She knew that she shouldn't leave as it would no doubt fall into Broomhead's talons, and that was the last thing she wanted, but at the same time she really didn't know if she had the mental strength to stay.

'Tick tock...tick tock.'


The sands of time continued to pour but time was running out and soon a choice would have to be made.

To fight or to flight?


A/N: Here's hoping that read as it's meant to. Chapter 3 will be 'Fine.' :)