Embarrassment over the fact that not only was she a whore but that she could do nothing to hide or control her bleeding.

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Chapter Ten:

The next time the Witch's body was due to bleed and show the world that the green woman was, in fact, a woman, no blood came. Letozay had restricted the amount of food the Witch received and as a result the already thin woman had slowly become gaunt.

Naked she was now no more than sallow green skin stretched over weak bones. Her lack of food had caused what little feminine curves the Witch had remaining to all but disappear. It was a sacrifice that Letozay mourned but had made willingly. The loss of the Witch's breasts had caused a few regular customers to stop coming but the loss of profit was minor. And to Letozay the disappearance of the disgusting woman triviality was enough to cover the money he had lost from the departure of the few regulars.

Time trudged on; dragging the ever thinner Witch along with it. Soon one year turned into two and the green woman lost track of the days that passed her by and the number of men – and woman – who had used her green body for their own primal pleasures. When she laid in her bed at night, after the paying customers had left, she would vaguely remember a time in her life when she had not been alone.

Sometimes the memories of Shiz – of Glinda and Fiyero – struck her so fast and so hard that she would almost cry.

She tried to remember how she had live before Letozay; how she had survived without his roof over her head or his food on her plate. She couldn't. She couldn't remember what she had done to keep herself alive. She couldn't remember where she had slept or how she had gotten food. She thought that if she could just remember how she had survived before Letozay that she would be able to find the strength to flee this place and live free of Letozay and his men.

The days turned into weeks and soon winter, and Lurlinemas, was upon the Emerald City. The Witch would curl up on the tiny ledge of her window and watch the snow fall. She found solace in watching the people walking along below her. She imagined where they were going or coming from. The Witch would create stories in her head about the people she saw to alleviate her boredom.

The night of Lurlinemas found the Witch curled up, naked as she always was, on the window sill. For the first night in what seemed like forever the green woman had a full night alone. No paying men to tear into her. Not even Letozay wanted her body this night.

It made her feel even more useless, even more like garbage, than she normally did.

The lone candle in the room flickered – sending strange shadows dancing about. The green woman sighed heavily – absentmindedly tracing green fingers over the cruel words scarred into her skin. She had never been one to celebrate Lurlinemas but tonight she wished she did.

Or rather, she wished she had someone to celebrate with.

Something caught her eye; a dress outside her window that seemed to reflect the pale moonlight. The Witch focused her wandering gaze on the wearer of the dress. Pale skin. Blue eyes. Small nose. Thin lips. Blonde curls.

Glinda.

The realization made the Witch inhale sharply in shock and grief. She could not believe that she sat a few feet away and a story above her old roommate. If Glinda were to look up and squint slightly through the snow she would see her old green friend looking down on her.

But Glinda didn't.

In a mere moment the blonde was gone – disappearing around a corner and out of sight. In her absence the Witch let out the breath she had not realized she was holding.

Then the tears came. Hot and fresh and so incredibly painful. The Witch stumbled to her bed – blinded by her grief – and grabbed a stained sheet. Frantically she dabbed at the burning wetness but it was a useless attempt. Her grief was simply too strong for her to will the tears away. Her pain was fueled by the onslaught of memories that the sight of Glinda had dredged up in her mind.

She hated herself for her weakness.