Chapter Seven: Familiar Sting
Dec 19th, 1999
12:33pm
Mildred studied the ornately decorated Christmas tree at the front of the dining hall. It stood about fifty feet (15.24 meters) high, so close to the ceiling that in order to fit the large silver star on it the tip had to be bent to the side in a rather unflattering manner. Ms. Cackles had called it "charmingly unique,"; and Mildred supposed she was referring to herself and her unorthodox way of running the academy rather than the tree.
Unique is only charming when you embrace it.
Mildred not only did not embrace her uniqueness; she often figuratively pushed it off the edge of a cliff down into a deep ravine below. Despite her attempts to assassinate that part of herself, people always seemed to pick up on it within seconds of meeting her.
Christmas was rapidly approaching, and soon all of her peers would leave Cackles, followed by all of the teachers with the exception of Constance Hardbroom. She had managed to escape spending the holiday with people that hated her in a house to spending the holiday with people that hated her in a large castle.
It figures she thought, spearing a green bean mercilessly with her fork.
"Christ, Mildred. What did vegetables ever do to you?" Enid plopped down next to her at the lunch table.
"Made my mouth taste like shit, mostly," Mildred shot back, smirking.
"Mmm, fair enough," Enid began to load her plate with biscuits, "but why put them on your plate in the first place, then?"
"I want to see them suffer," Mildred said ominously, then giggled.
"That tree looks ghastly," Maud exclaimed, settling herself on the other side of Mildred.
Mildred grinned. "Maud, it's charmingly unique!"
Maud groaned and began to fill her plate with food. Mildred's eyes travelled over to the head table, and she was surprised to see the deputy headmistress sitting there. Ms. Hardbroom had been absent from all the meals in the dining hall since she had discovered Mildred's unsightly scars. The older witch met her eyes for a moment and rapidly looked away.
"Maybe you should go back to threatening your green beans, Mildred," Enid said apprehensively, "if you stare at her that murderously she may increase the frequency of your detentions."
"She suspended my detentions, actually," Mildred said airily, her eyes still fixed on her Potions Mistress. What, you scared now? You scared of me now that I'm not that clumsy little girl and I'm actually a young woman who's been through some real life? Fucking coward.
"Mildred," Maud interrupted her bitter train of thought, "when did this happen? Why did she suspend them?"
"Yeah, Mildred," Enid chimed in, "That's kind of a big development."
Mildred sighed audibly and turned towards her two friends. "Two days ago," she lied, "I let something slip about my situation from my parents. I guess she felt sorry for me or something, but it's irritating. I don't want any special treatment."
They both look shocked.
"Mildred….that was actually quite nice of her. Maybe she realized that your outburst was due to her pushing you when you were going through a difficult time," Maud said.
"I don't really think of it as 'nice', Maud," Mildred said sourly, "I think of it as 'guilty'. If she really was a nice person she wouldn't have pushed me that hard in the first place, Ward of the Magistrate or not."
"Besides," Enid offered, "someone who drinks the blood of infants to replenish their energy is unlikely to be the empathetic type."
Maud huffed. "I don't think either of you are being fair. No one is perfect."
"I'm sorry," Mildred said, knowing that the 'morally outraged' Maud always needed to be handled sensitively, "It's just personal bias on my part. Your point has some validity to it, Maud. I just don't know if I'm in a place to acknowledge that."
Maud's facial muscles relaxed, and she flashed a small smile. Mildred could practically hear Enid's internal eye roll.
Dec 21st, 1999
09:45am
Mildred fidgeted nervously. Another morning, another visit from the physician. She was not too keen on talking to him; he had a way of seeing past her angry defenses that most other adults did not. Maud & Enid had left for home the previous day, and watching her two friends excitedly babble about the emotional intimacy they shared with their parents made Mildred feel unexpectedly jealous. She had quashed that feeling immediately with a razor.
"Mildred, it's splendid to see you again!" Dr. Grisham greeted her with a grin and a wink as he strolled into the courtyard.
"Why did you want to meet me out here?" She asked, rubbing her hands together. The snow fell intermittently, the icy breeze chapping her lips and reddening her cheeks.
"Ah, that's the Mildred I know. Jumps right into questions as usual," Dr. Grisham stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and settled himself on the stone bench next to his patient. "I wanted to meet with you here because I wanted to demonstrate to you how to use an inhaler. Since you can see your breath in the freezing air it will make for a better instruction session."
Mildred shrugged and muttered, "Maybe you could leave out the forced camaraderie at the beginning and just answer the question directly next time."
"Maybe you could stop showing such a lack of respect for people who have only treated you kindly," Dr. Grisham retorted.
Mildred looked down at her palms. "I didn't ask for you to come into my life."
Dr. Grisham considered her statement for a moment, knitted his brow, and nodded his head. "Fair enough, Mildred."
Mildred tried not to groan. What the hell am I supposed to say to that?
"So, you will be spending the Christmas holiday with your instructors here at Cackles?" Dr. Grisham made small talk as he fished around in his brown leather bag for Mildred's inhaler.
"Just Ms. Hardbroom," Mildred said glumly.
Dr. Grisham pulled the inhaler out of his bag and set it carefully in his lap; then took his spectacles off to clean the melted snowflakes from the lenses. "Oh, well that should be lovely," he said in a rather distracted voice.
"Yes," Mildred said sarcastically, "I'm sure Ms. Hardbroom and I will skip merrily throughout the castle, decorating all the hallways with tinsel to commemorate the Christmas holiday."
Dr. Grisham snorted loudly at the image that Mildred's statement conjured up in his mind.
"Unlikely, Mildred. She'll be in the North Pole pushing all of the elves to produce toys at a faster rate to meet the Christmas Eve Deadline."
Mildred put a great amount of effort into suppressing the urge to laugh, but she did let herself smile.
Dr. Grisham reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a pair of black gloves which he then put on. He then reached into his lap and retrieved an L-shaped object with a light blue plastic exterior. "This," he raised it to Mildred's eye level, "is an inhaler. I will now demonstrate to you how to use it."
Mildred was impressed by how succinct and clear the physician's instructions were. He even explained the disease process of asthma in a way that was understandable at a laymen's level. He'd make a great professor.
She tucked the inhaler into the pocket of her cloak. She was intent on muttering a quick goodbye and retreating to the castle, but a small, very frightened part of her urged her to stay. Mildred looked to her side at Dr. Grisham, sizing up his character in her mind before speaking.
"I wanted to….thank you."
His eyebrows shot up so rapidly that the movement of his facial muscles almost knocked his glasses off the bridge of his nose. "That…." he cleared his throat, "was rather unexpected. Whatever for, Mildred?"
Mildred looked apprehensively between her boots and his face several times. "For not treating me any different, you know. After you found out. I know we only knew each other for all but fifteen minutes before you found out about my…situation. But you didn't treat me any differently. Most people avoid me or pity me or act like I'm going to fall apart at any moment after they discover those things."
"Ah," he pondered her words for a moment, then crossed his arms across his chest to conserve body heat. "Well, Mildred. You are welcome. It is unfortunate that what you are experiencing from other people are those reactions…it only adds to the trauma of the whole ordeal. I would encourage you to be patient with those around you, they don't have any sort of professional training in these areas. Most don't know how to act, and probably don't realize that their change in behavior is hurting you."
"Well I wouldn't say they're hurting me," Mildred remarked defensively, "annoying me is more like it."
Dr. Grisham almost rolled his eyes. "What ever you say, Mildred. In any case, I want you to know that no matter what you confide in me, I will never treat you differently," he paused for a moment, tapping a gloved finger against his closed lips, "Well, if you were to confide in me that you've drowned a litter of puppies I might judge you a bit."
Mildred actually laughed out loud. "You're kind of mad yourself, aren't you Doctor?"
He smirked. "You have no idea."
"That's what I'm thanking you for, I suppose," Mildred said thoughtfully, "your madness. No matter what you find out about me, you just treat me like a normal witch. And though I know I'm in no way, shape or form normal, you treating me as though I am really helps…in some way."
Dr. Grisham smiled sadly. "I'm glad it does, Mildred. Come, lets go inside. You must be freezing."
10:24am
"Ms. Hardbroom," Dr. Grisham acknowledged the potions mistress; who had arrived in the entrance room to Amelia Cackles office mere seconds before he.
"Hello, Doctor," she said rather demurely, tilting her head in his direction.
"Are you waiting to speak with Amelia as well?" He asked, feeling heat creep up his cheeks.
"Yes, but it's not incredibly urgent. You may go in first if you'd like." Constance immediately sensed his attraction. It was quite obvious, really; his sweaty palms, his flushed appearance, his nervous shifting.
"Ah, uh...thank you, Ms Hardbroom. I would prefer that, actually. I have several appointments later today and I'd like to be on time for them," Dr. Grisham responded, more-so to a spot on the carpet than to her.
"Right, then. I don't believe she is busy at the moment," Constance really wished Dr. Grisham would leave. She loathed to be around men who fancied her.
"Ahem, yes. I'm...well...I'll go in now then. I'll...it was...good to see you," Dr. Grisham said haphazardly, and disappeared into Amelia's office.
11:11am
"Constance, dear! You may come in now." The deputy head snapped out of a daze upon hearing Amelia's voice, and made her way into her bosses office.
Once inside, Constance looked around the room, puzzled. "Dr. Grisham is gone? I did not see him leave."
"Constance, he can materialize himself. He's one of the only wizards in Britain with that capability," Amelia informed her.
Even I have to be impressed with that. "Well, that certainly explains it."
Both women jumped when they heard a muffled giggle come from the tall cupboard in the corner of the office.
"Davina, really?" Amelia griped, annoyed.
Davina Bat emerged from the cupboard, making a staunch effort to avoid eye contact.
She seemed both ashamed and amused. Constance scowled. Not an uncommon mix of moods for her, is it?
"How long were you in there?" Amelia demanded, clearly displeased.
Davina shuffled towards her boss until she was side-by-side with Constance. "Oh, an hour I think..."
"An HOUR?!" Amelia all but shrieked.
"Oh, relax Amelia. It was only long enough to see you speak with that handsome Doctor," Davina wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
Ms. Cackles crossed her arms across her chest and huffed, but it was obvious she was holding back a smile. "Davina, those conversations are private. I don't like you eavesdropping."
Davina waved her hand dismissively, "Oh come now, Amelia. Every time I hear a students name mentioned I just sing a Mongolian lullaby to myself and it prevents me from hearing things I'm not supposed to hear."
Constance exhaled loudly. "I do have something to discuss with the headmistress, Davina. I don't care how many lullabies you sing to yourself, I don't want you in here."
"Oh. Yes, yes. I can leave," Davina headed towards the door, but paused to speak before she left. "That Doctor is quite fond of you, Constance," she said in a very quiet voice, "he can barely say your name without turning red as a tomato."
"It's true," Amelia agreed, and smiled broadly.
"THAT is NONE of your concern!" Constance bellowed, feeling a sudden, inexplicable burst of rage churn within her.
Her frustration only seemed to amuse Amelia and Davina more, and the two older witches began laughing raucously. Had it been any other subject, Constance would have likely rolled her eyes and moved on, but because they were teasing her about a man...a man who fancied her...
Hecate smacked Constance across the face, and then began to cackle. "You- a-actually think that man f-fancies you?!" she exclaimed between laughs. "Constance, you are a decrepit looking waste of space. There is no conceivable way any man could ever want anything to do with you beyond a quick fuck..."
Constance opened her mouth to protest, but Hecate slapped her again with such force that she landed on her back on the classroom floor...
"BOTH OF YOU! STOP IT!" Constance roared, shaking with so much fury that blue sparks began to fly from her finger tips. She hated the feeling of helplessness that seized her whenever she thought about Hecate, and she hated Amelia and Davina for reminding her of Hecate. I want to burn those impish grins right off of their faces. Constance set her jaw and fixed the two women with the most withering look she could manage.
"Constance..." Amelia said cautiously, "We apologize if-"
"Whom fancies me is none of your concern," Constance growled, "you should stick to the things that are familiar to you, Amelia. Eating cheesecake and trying to convince yourself you actually know how to run a school. And you..."
Constance pointed a bony finger at Davina, who was holding onto Amelia's arms and cowering slightly. "You had best keep your mouth shut, Davina," Constance said menacingly, her eyes glittering, "now…make like Harry Potter and GET BACK IN YOUR CUPBOARD!"
Davina shrieked and bolted to her safe haven, as directed.
Twenty seconds of silence followed.
"Constance," Amelia breathed, her eyes shining, "what on earth... Do you enjoy causing others pain?"
Constance knew that she had felt ecstatic while Davina was cowering in her presence, effectively surrendering her personal power to her by not standing up for herself. Constance also knew that there was a dark part of her that wanted to bring suffering upon others. But she sure as hell wasn't going to admit that.
"I don't- I didn't mean to be so cruel." Constance said, her abating anger turning to shame. The muffled sobs coming through the cupboards thin wooden doors were hard to ignore.
Amelia curled her lip into a sneer, which looked downright alien on her face. "I have tried with you, Constance. I really have. But for some reason you are intent on spreading your misery to whom ever you can."
"Amelia, I-" Constance protested.
"Leave my office now, Constance," Amelia interrupted. Her voice sounded strangled.
Constance nodded her head "yes", but remained rooted where she stood, as if her shock at Amelia's behavior (and her own, for that matter) had taken executive control of her body.
"NOW!" Amelia yelled, startling her deputy head into movement. As Constance hastily stepped over the threshold between the headmistress' office and entrance room, she caught the older woman's faint whisper; "Please...leave before I stoop to your level."
Dec 22, 1999
2:27pm
"Remember to owl me if you need anything, dear," Amelia Cackles fussed over Mildred, rubbing her pupils shoulders even though the girl showed no signs of being cold.
"I will, Ms. Cackles," Mildred said with forced politeness, "Have a wonderful holiday, Miss."
"You too, Mildred," Amelia smiled at her through the flurry of snow. She stepped forward, as if to hug her, then caught herself before she touched her pupil. "Goodbye."
Mildred nodded, and Amelia turned away from her.
Ms. Hardbroom, who was standing just inside the stone entrance to Cackles Academy walked over to her boss, passing Mildred without acknowledging her existence. She paused for a moment, as though unsure of herself, then tapped Ms. Cackles gently on the shoulder to get her attention.
"Oh, Constance," Ms. Cackles said, and wrapped the younger woman in a rather uncomfortable-looking hug, "I'm sorry I lost my temper with you yesterday. You know I love you a great deal and I want nothing but happiness for you."
Ms. Cackles lost her temper with Ms. Hardbroom and wasn't hexed into oblivion? Mildred thought, aghast. She considered making her way back to the castle, but decided to continue to shamelessly gawk at the intimate exchange between two of her superiors.
"Likewise, Amelia," Constance whispered stiffly, clearly trying to pry herself out of the embrace.
When Ms. Cackles pulled back, she had tears glittering in her eyes. "Please don't hesitate to get in touch with me either, Constance. I want to know how you fare this Christmas."
Ms. Hardbroom had finally managed to free herself from Ms. Cackles arms. "Amelia, I will be perfectly fine here. I haven't needed anyone to check on my well-being for nearly twenty years."
Even through the heavily falling snow, Mildred could see the wounded look on Ms. Cackles' face. "Right then, Constance. I'm off." Without another word, the headmistress of Cackles Academy mounted her broom, and disappeared into the night. Ms. Hardbroom stared at the receding form of her boss until she was just a small speck in the sky.
She turned to find Mildred watching her.
"Please go inside before you catch frostbite, Ms. Hubble," Ms. Hardbroom said, her tone vacant, her expression blank.
Mildred sneered. "Why do you care? I'll be dead to you either way." Before the deputy head could answer her, Mildred vanished into the castle.
11:54pm
Constance wrapped her cloak around her thin frame. Even though the castle was completely closed against the winter storm outside, the cold draft in the hallways was unbearable. So much so, in fact, that she had to wear an extra layer under her silk maroon pajamas.
"Ice queen, indeed," she muttered, making her way up the stone staircase that led to the 2nd year girls dormitories. She was quite uncomfortable being alone with Mildred Hubble in the castle, it only served to excavate long repressed guilt and shame from her internal burial ground.
After reaching the top of the steps, she made several turns within the labyrinth of the 2nd year floor until she was standing by Mildred's room. As she reached for the door handle, she heard a muffled scream. Instantaneously, she materialized herself into the room at the foot of Mildred's bed.
Constance's adrenaline levels dropped immediately when she realized that Mildred was in no tangible peril; she was simply in the midst of night terror.
Sweat covered the girls pale and grimacing face, making her forehead and cheeks glint in the moonlight. Her bedsheet and comforter made a crumpled mess at the bottom of her bed. Strands of dark hair were matted against the side of her face, and the muscles beneath her collarbone fluttered rapidly due to hyperventilation. A portion of her bed linen was wrapped around her left ankle. She repeatedly raised her arms to her face and winced as though she was diverting a blow from an attacker. She then let out a bloodcurdling scream that rattled Constance's spine.
Mildred then wrapped her arms tightly around her midsection, and kicked both legs violently.
"GERRRR OFF!" She half mumbled, half sobbed. Her diaphragm spasmed and she arched her back.
Constance knew better than to wake someone, especially a child, from a night terror. Everything in her was telling her to leave, but some small part of her kept her feet glued to the ground.
When Constance had made up her mind to stay, she moved Mildred's bedside table across the room to prevent the girl from injuring herself. For the next 45 minutes, she watched Mildred's dreams torture her. Once the thrashing and whimpering had ceased, Constance materialized herself out of the dormitory before the girl could sense her presence.
Dec 23, 1999
11:23am
Ms. Hubble,
Please come to the Potions classroom at 11:30 sharp. There is a matter that I must discuss with you.
Regards,
Constance Hardbroom
Deputy Headmistress of Cackles Academy
Mildred re-read the formal note that she had received that morning at breakfast. She felt anxious and annoyed; her Professor had made a substantial attempt to avoid interacting with her over the last two weeks and now she was summoning her? She had been standing outside of the Potions classroom for the last twenty minutes, debating with herself about why the older witch wanted to talk to her. She checked her watch, and given the time, she knocked sharply on the classroom door.
"Enter," she heard her teacher's voice through the door. She walked inside, and immediately observed how tired her professor looked. The impeccably tight bun that Hardbroom normally wore her hair in was on the verge of falling out, and she had dark circles under her eyes.
Despite being taken aback, Mildred said neutrally, "You wanted to talk to me, Miss?"
"Yes, girl" Ms. Hardbroom said, and then added, "you can come closer, if you'd like."
Mildred acknowledged how ridiculous she looked giving her professor a twenty-foot berth. She strode forward.
"Ms. Hubble, I want to give you this," Constance motioned towards a small, corked glass vial sitting on her desk, "it's called 'Slumber Draught'. Two drops on your tongue before bed each night will substantially reduce the frequency of your nightmares."
Mildred stared at the maroon liquid in the vial for a moment before she met her teacher's eyes. "Pardon me Miss, but how do you know I have nightmares?" she used an excessively polite tone in an attempt to overcompensate for the irritation that rose within her.
"Ms. Hubble, as I am your only caretaker on the premises at present; it is my duty to conduct my nightly checks at your dormitory. My checks are generally conducted quite late in the evening. I heard..." Constance paused awkwardly, "noises of fear through your dormitory door. Suspecting danger, I entered and saw you in the throes of a night terror. Given your frequently fatigued appearance this term, I suspect that episodes of the kind have been a common occurrence."
Mildred stiffened. Keep your composure. You're mad that she spied on you but keep your composure. Mildred took a deep breath. "Oh. Well, I appreciate the gesture," the young witch said, nodding towards the vial on Constance's desk, "but I don't want it."
Constance rubbed the back of her neck with one hand, and sighed. "Mildred Hubble, it will improve your health if you obtain restful sleep. I do not see why you are refusing aid."
"I don't want aid," Mildred blurted out before she could check herself.
Constance met her eyes with a piercing glare. "Clearly," she remarked coldly. Her petulance never ceases to irk me.
Constance's challenging look triggered even more of Mildreds anger. "Ms. Hardbroom, I don't need aid," Mildred insisted, "and I'd really rather not have any further discussions about my nightmares with you."
Constance was infuriated, mostly because she could tell that Mildred was infuriated. The intensity that surrounded Mildred's situation had exhausted her. Brewing that potion had exhausted her. And to top it all off, the person at the center of where most of her energy had gone was not only unappreciative, but angry? The older witch was tired of monitoring everything she said around her pupil as if the girl was made of glass.
"So you are just going to reject anyone or anything that could potentially help you?" Constance spat, "you are going to continue to selfishly suffer in silence, completely ignorant of the fact that those who bear witness to it suffer as well!"
"Why do you think I don't want to say anything?! People get disturbed, worried, and uncomfortable when they find out ugly things!" Mildred exclaimed, her face beet red, her chest heaving, her mind racing.
Don't letitout….. ihaveto….don't say it…. I'm goingtoleavemealone…. DON'T!... I'm GOING TO!
"You for fucking example," Mildred hissed with such venom in her voice that Constance started slightly, "you know the most. And now you can't even look at me, it reminds you of the filthy things you saw. Why would I want to burden someone who actually cares for me with that?"
Constance closed her eyes. The girl was partially right. She had expended a great deal of energy trying to get the images of those scars out of her head…and it had been burdensome.
"But you are not the burden," Constance finished her thought aloud, "the cross you bear was imposed on you by others. Nonetheless, Mildred, it is painful to see you bear it so poorly."
Mildred shook her head incredulously. Who the hell does she think she is? The bitch can't just pretend I don't exist and then offer me aid when it's convenient for her.
"Oh fuck you," Mildred raged, "you feel no pain for me. You. don't. care. about. me. All you want to do is make me feel worse, this is just a new way to shame me."
Constance blinked; so unfamiliar with all the uncomfortable feelings Mildred's statement had elicited that it was hard to ascertain which of the many emotions that brewed within her was situation-appropriate. I am the adult, she is the child. I am the adult, she is the child. Adults protect children, even ones they don't like. Adults protect children, especially from themselves. Her inner mantra was only vaguely soothing.
"Mildred, if I am the only person at this academy that you are convinced does not care for your well-being," Constance said slowly, analytically, "why does my attention, or lack thereof; matter so much to you?"
Mildred felt sick. "It doesn't!" she yelled exasperatedly and looked away, "I'm just stuck in this stupid castle with you!"
So it does matter.
"Are you certain? You have only expressed disdain when those you know do care for you try to engage you in discussions about your current predicament," Constance responded, "but when the person you claim doesn't care for you makes no attempt to ask about your sensitive situation, you become disdainful. That leads me to believe that you are angry that I did not make more of an effort to engage with you after discovering what I did." Constance felt ethically irked that she was speaking to her student like she was some sort of psychological lab specimen; but it was the only way for her to present herself in a composed manner to the clearly terrified child before her.
Mildred opened and closed her mouth. That bitch. Back track. Do not validate that.
Mildred desperately grasped for defenses, the situation becoming less infuriating and more nauseating by the second. There is no way you can let her know she's right. Do anything. Disprove it. So Mildred resorted to something that she was intimately familiar with, but had rarely perpetrated: malice.
Mildred put her hands on her hips, cocked her head slightly, adopting a defensive posture and a condescending smirk. "So you're a self-professed Mind Healer now?" Mildred began derisively, "In addition to being the only adult the poor little abused girl wants to confide her secrets in? You really are full of yourself. I suppose deluding yourself into believing you're really that important helps you numb the pain of having no man and no family to go home to." She punctuated the insult with a mirthless laugh, and was horrified at how much she sounded like her own mother.
Despite her self-disgust, Mildred continued, "If you honestly want to know why I've been so frustrated with your change in attitude it's because you're not letting me fuck with you anymore. It's been fun to push your buttons. I used to be able to piss off my pathetic, uptight and lonely professor so easily! By doing nothing more than, say, making innocent, novice mistakes when preparing potions ingredients," she paused for effect, letting her words sink in, "Tightly wound, bitter people like you are the easiest targets, because you're so desperate to make yourself matter, you practically look for things to offend you. I really enjoy watching bitches like you chase their tails in an attempt to feel valuable, when in reality, you have no purpose and no one wants you around."
The tense silence that fell between them was almost electric.
Constance's hands shook. "Get. The. Hell. Out." the older witch snarled. Her self-control was waning rapidly, and it took everything in her to not threaten Mildred with several very painful curses.
Mildred forced herself to sneer and chuckle. "Gladly. Enjoy your day, Miss."
The second the classroom door closed, Constance seized the vial of slumber draught sitting on her desk and hurled it across the room with a scream. The subsequent sound of glass shattering against the stone wall, however, did only little to quell her seething rage.
11:56am
Mildred dry heaved over the edge of her bed, sickened by shame over what she had just done.
I sounded just like her.
She felt as if stone fingers had wrapped themselves tightly around both of her lungs, crushing the air out of her mouth. She drew in shuddering breaths, the urge to sob nearly impossible to resist.
You can't. You can't do it. If that first tear falls, others will follow and it will never end.
She couldn't help but believe the voice. In her experience, every time she had given in the weeping had taken over her completely, and had only brought more pain upon her from the outside world. Determined to win the battle with her agony, she grabbed the first sharp object in reach (an uncapped pen on her nightstand) and used the tip to tear into the skin of her forearm until a puddle of blood and ink had formed on the floor beneath her.
Dec 24th, 1999
12:11am
Constance pulled the bedsheet over her head and groaned audibly. She had thrown herself into organizing potions ingredients in her lab for the rest of the day to calm herself down, and she still found herself ruminating furiously over the girls words late into the evening. She was slightly relieved that she had found an alternative to physically being near Mildred had she conducted her traditional nightly check. In the late afternoon, she had spelled the girls dormitory with a monitoring charm, which would wake her instantly if Mildred attempted to leave her room between 11pm-6am or was in any physical danger.
Constance had no desire to see the child in the near future, the insults were so fresh that she didn't know if she could trust herself not to spell the girls mouth shut the second she came into view. Her loneliness was a sensitive topic, and Mildred had ripped open her old injuries in an impressively sadistic manner.
Had the girl spoken to her that way a mere three months ago, Constance would have been over the moon because she would have finally been able to convince Amelia that the girls expulsion was warranted. Not to mention that all of her pre-conceived notions about the girl would have been validated. But the context in which the insults were formulated simply gave Constance more evidence that the girl was dealing with a considerable amount of trauma and was reacting defensively. Oh yes, Constance would have liked to believe that Mildred was a secret sadist, but she knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that the infernal child did not have a malicious bone in her body.
But what was she to do? Earlier that day, she had unintentionally confirmed to herself that Mildred was hurt that she had not offered her support after finding out about the abuse. She had already known, via observation, that Mildred was indifferent to the support of substantially more qualified and approachable adults. That could only mean that something about Constances' attention, moreso than theirs, was more valuable to Mildred.
Her mind reeled. The extent of her psychological training had been a two week overview of 'Alternative Mind Healing Methods' in her Non-Magical studies course at Weirdsister College some twenty years ago. She remembered nothing from it that would be of any use in dissecting the irrationality of Mildred's behavior.
Constance sighed in frustration. Why would she be so dismissive of Amelia and Imogen's valid concern yet hurt so greatly by my indifference? The entire time she has attended this school, they have shown her nothing but patience and understanding and I have shown her nothing more than disdain and disapproval.
Disapproval…disapproval…..
Suddenly, Imogen's words from their conversation a month prior rang loudly in Constances' head:
"I have seen how she consistently attempts to impress you, and accepts your berating as though she believes she deserves nothing more than insults and disapproval. It is obvious that she attaches to abusive adults, because she has been raised by abusive adults, and will only seek to get approval or love from abusive adults."
Constance felt ill. She had never considered herself to be abusive. She protected her students.
I was simply trying to protect the girl from her own incompetence! she insisted to herself.
Her stomach twisted as a small voice inside of her head countered her: Constance, you enjoyed shaming her. It made you feel powerful.
She felt hot tears prick the back of her eyes. Had she been an objective observer of her interactions with Mildred, she would have charged herself with acting exactly like Hecate Broomhead had with her. Constance's breath hitched. I didn't beat her with a cane, like Hecate would have. A lump formed in her throat.
But you wanted to.
And for the first time in nearly eight years, Constance wept.
The needle tears a hole; the old familiar sting.
Try to kill it all away,
But I remember everything.
What have I become? My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away in the end.
And you could have it all; my Empire of Dirt.
I will let you down,
I will make you hurt.
Authors Note: I take no ownership of the creative property of Jill Murphy or the band Nine Inch Nails. For those of you wondering, this story will have a total of thirteen chapters. Sorry it took me longer than usual for the update; I'm moving places right now and that sucked up all of my time during the last week.
