~Chapter 15~
I guessed the trial would be held at the palace, if in the end they decided to bother with a trial at all; everyone already knew what the verdict would be. That was where I was headed. I hoped my notion was right and that I would get there in time.
I tread carefully down some streets and up others, trying not to step in any puddles or splash any unwanted droplets of water on my legs. My taking such pains against the moisture made my going agonizingly slow. I kept thinking :If I keep moving at this rate I'll never get there in time - : In time for what? In time to watch Glinda die? How would I save her when I would be caught and killed alongside her if seen? My mind raced for answers but to no avail. The only thing that came to mind was :What in hell have I gotten myself into? There's nothing I can do – :
:There's has to be something, please tell me there's still something I can do…:
I tried to quicken my pace but when I did I was met with a sharp stinging from water that had connected with my legs. I hissed but kept going, a little slower now. I cursed whatever higher power there was that damned me like it did; for coloring me an outcast, for killing or maiming those I held dear, for making my own skin betray me at the faintest hint of moisture. My life was a never-ending, sick-minded game I was tired of having to play.
I had feared time would be passing too quickly for me to make use of what little there was left before Glinda's execution, and all my fears were confirmed the moment I reached the square outside the palace. There was already a horde of people come to watch the "good witch" put to death. It was sickening how the world could turn so quickly on someone that had once been beloved and idolized, only one small step down from being worshipped as a mortal goddess.
I looked on, horrified, as my vision fell upon the noose swinging in the breeze, slapping wetly against the wood holding it suspended in the air. I started to push my way around people; I needed to reach her, but for what? Like I'd asked myself before, what was there for me to do?
Five green-clad Gale Forcers marched Glinda up onto the hurriedly constructed wooden platform, her loose white skirts whipping around her in the strengthening wind, her curls hanging limply around her face. Glinda's eyes were closed and she didn't fight those who held her; she seemed to stand like some fallen angel, resignedly accepting damnation to hell by whatever god ruled over her as the noose was slipped around her neck. But no, there were no gods, no angels; what kind of divinity stood aside and looked on in indifference as an innocent life was about to be thrown away at the snap of a finger, the utterance of one man's word? What god could be so cold-hearted as to watch one of his daughters have the breath stolen from her lungs and do nothing to ease her pain, to do the least? What use was there for life at all if in the end it would only be torn apart on a whim or for public entertainment due to one man's prejudice? Did no one value the life of another anymore?
I tried with every ounce of will left in me to shove my way through the crowd, and I was blinded by a dry, vicious burning in my eyes as a shout sounded from the mouth of Oz's ruler; my eyes were absent of tears simply because I had none left to cry after the last undertaking I had screwed beyond hope. A terrible cheer rose from the people congregated around the platform. I couldn't bring myself to look up; if I purposefully made myself look at what had become of the woman whose actions out of love for a friend had ended with her swinging from the end of a rope it would most definitely cause me to break beyond repair. What had I come for, to watch one human being intentionally give the order to kill another out of his own discrimination? I had once again tried to attempt the impossible; whatever lives I tried to save or prolong before always ended in tragedy. I should've known that by then, but no, I had to learn it the hard way, this being the hardest on me of all. I felt doomed to make the same mistakes over and over again. Those mistakes had all stemmed from the fact that I just cared too much. If I wanted to stop the hurt I must first stop caring about people and their fates.
I gave up the push toward the front; I was too late for me to right another scenario I had caused to go terribly wrong. There was no purpose left in my movements. I lingered until half of the crowd dispersed then retreated to a side street off the square to wait for the people to desert the area; hopefully soon enough I would once more be free to move. I settled myself in the driest spot I could find to wait out the worst of the rain. I was saturated enough and if it got much worse I would feel as if aflame before I traveled three feet from where I was currently resting. I wanted to get back home to Fiyero as soon as possible and get out of the wet.
The rain kept falling, hissing as it traveled through the air, each new drop pounding louder and louder reverberating through the hollowness of my heart. The shocking reality of it all was numbing; I welcomed the absence of feeling, the lack of reality, thankful for the short bit of escape before it all set in and I would be unable to outrun the tidal waves of emotion.
I lost all sense of passing time, partially hypnotized by the sight and sound of the slowly dissipating rain. Much later in the day, only an hour or so before sunset when the moisture in the air was no more than a fine mist, I started at the sound of footsteps treading cautiously down my alley.
"Fae?"
I looked up at the familiar voice, my empty gaze meeting Fiyero's. He reached to take my hand and help me to my feet. I stood, staring blankly in the direction of the square.
"How did you find me here?"
"I was sick of worrying; I needed to know that you were alright." He wouldn't drop my hand, even after I was fully upright and needed no assistance in movement.
"Never – follow me – again." I replied shortly; my voice was hard and backed by a force stronger than any tone I had used with him before. The command was fueled by a passionate desire for him to get as far away from me as possible before I could do anything else to hurt him. I was still haunted by what had come to pass the last time he had followed me somewhere. There could be no more blood, no more pain in the lives of the people I loved; I wouldn't be able to take much more. That moment in my wish to keep him from any more hurt I didn't realize that my ordering him to stay away from me was hurting him more than I could compensate for.
He led me away from the alley, his fingers clenched around mine; still he refused to drop my hand. Even still, despite his unwillingness to leave me he refused to meet my eyes or even look at my face. I could tell he was trying not to let my curt words and cold, distant stare penetrate through to his heart, and he wasn't doing a very good job of hiding how much I was wearing him down. In spite of the obvious strain so clearly etched on his face, in my detached state I took no notice of what he was feeling or how painfully evident it was displayed. All I knew and felt was that there was an absence of…something. I knew there was something I was supposed to feel, a grief of some sort, but no sensation of anything reached me; there was only hollowness, a void where the grief should have been housed. It was alarming, my sudden lack of pain – I had just witnessed the death of a close friend; shouldn't there have been some sort of sorrow induced in me by that? I was afraid, and yet the fear never registered completely in my mind. There were brief flashes of alarm, but the real sensation of terror never took hold. What was happening to me? This was nothing like the forced ignorance of emotion I had induced in myself that night at the Emerald Palace, this was a genuine emptiness brought on by my having been through so much loss, a real incapability of any feeling at all.
Fiyero led me back to the square. I looked up at the noose, still around Glinda's neck. There was no shock of aching sadness lancing through me at the sight of her hanging there dead; the only thing I was aware of was the presence of her body and Fiyero's hand over mine, only what tangible things I could see, could touch, could hear.
Pulling me up onto the platform, he took a switchblade from his pocket and handed it to me. I flicked it open and looked at the blade, a hungry expression taking over my face. It would just be so easy to end my false reality right here, to die without consciously acknowledging the physical pain and my hollow heart.
But I couldn't. I couldn't do that to Fiyero, even in my vacant state I knew I could never kill myself after all he'd done for me, all he'd reintroduced me to.
I grabbed the discarded stool Oz's king had formerly been sitting on, climbed upon it, put the switch to the rope and cut the noose down from its supports, my eyes blank and disconnected. Fiyero caught Glinda's body and lowered it down to me. I knelt on the sodden wood, her head in my lap. Thankfully, the thickness of my skirts kept the water from seeping through the layers of fabric, though I doubted that I would be able to feel the stinging in its entirety. As of the moment I wasn't able to feel much; even physical sensations were dulled, and the emotional ones were nonexistent.
I loosened the loop of the noose and slipped it over her head, gently fingering the chafed skin that had emerged from under the rope. Disgusted, I threw the thing aside. Brushing her wet curls from her face I kissed her forehead and said my last goodbyes, my eyes dry and my face empty of all emotion.
I guessed the trial would be held at the palace, if in the end they decided to bother with a trial at all; everyone already knew what the verdict would be. That was where I was headed. I hoped my notion was right and that I would get there in time.
I tread carefully down some streets and up others, trying not to step in any puddles or splash any unwanted droplets of water on my legs. My taking such pains against the moisture made my going agonizingly slow. I kept thinking :If I keep moving at this rate I'll never get there in time - : In time for what? In time to watch Glinda die? How would I save her when I would be caught and killed alongside her if seen? My mind raced for answers but to no avail. The only thing that came to mind was :What in hell have I gotten myself into? There's nothing I can do – :
:There's has to be something, please tell me there's still something I can do…:
I tried to quicken my pace but when I did I was met with a sharp stinging from water that had connected with my legs. I hissed but kept going, a little slower now. I cursed whatever higher power there was that damned me like it did; for coloring me an outcast, for killing or maiming those I held dear, for making my own skin betray me at the faintest hint of moisture. My life was a never-ending, sick-minded game I was tired of having to play.
I had feared time would be passing too quickly for me to make use of what little there was left before Glinda's execution, and all my fears were confirmed the moment I reached the square outside the palace. There was already a horde of people come to watch the "good witch" put to death. It was sickening how the world could turn so quickly on someone that had once been beloved and idolized, only one small step down from being worshipped as a mortal goddess.
I looked on, horrified, as my vision fell upon the noose swinging in the breeze, slapping wetly against the wood holding it suspended in the air. I started to push my way around people; I needed to reach her, but for what? Like I'd asked myself before, what was there for me to do?
Five green-clad Gale Forcers marched Glinda up onto the hurriedly constructed wooden platform, her loose white skirts whipping around her in the strengthening wind, her curls hanging limply around her face. Glinda's eyes were closed and she didn't fight those who held her; she seemed to stand like some fallen angel, resignedly accepting damnation to hell by whatever god ruled over her as the noose was slipped around her neck. But no, there were no gods, no angels; what kind of divinity stood aside and looked on in indifference as an innocent life was about to be thrown away at the snap of a finger, the utterance of one man's word? What god could be so cold-hearted as to watch one of his daughters have the breath stolen from her lungs and do nothing to ease her pain, to do the least? What use was there for life at all if in the end it would only be torn apart on a whim or for public entertainment due to one man's prejudice? Did no one value the life of another anymore?
I tried with every ounce of will left in me to shove my way through the crowd, and I was blinded by a dry, vicious burning in my eyes as a shout sounded from the mouth of Oz's ruler; my eyes were absent of tears simply because I had none left to cry after the last undertaking I had screwed beyond hope. A terrible cheer rose from the people congregated around the platform. I couldn't bring myself to look up; if I purposefully made myself look at what had become of the woman whose actions out of love for a friend had ended with her swinging from the end of a rope it would most definitely cause me to break beyond repair. What had I come for, to watch one human being intentionally give the order to kill another out of his own discrimination? I had once again tried to attempt the impossible; whatever lives I tried to save or prolong before always ended in tragedy. I should've known that by then, but no, I had to learn it the hard way, this being the hardest on me of all. I felt doomed to make the same mistakes over and over again. Those mistakes had all stemmed from the fact that I just cared too much. If I wanted to stop the hurt I must first stop caring about people and their fates.
I gave up the push toward the front; I was too late for me to right another scenario I had caused to go terribly wrong. There was no purpose left in my movements. I lingered until half of the crowd dispersed then retreated to a side street off the square to wait for the people to desert the area; hopefully soon enough I would once more be free to move. I settled myself in the driest spot I could find to wait out the worst of the rain. I was saturated enough and if it got much worse I would feel as if aflame before I traveled three feet from where I was currently resting. I wanted to get back home to Fiyero as soon as possible and get out of the wet.
The rain kept falling, hissing as it traveled through the air, each new drop pounding louder and louder reverberating through the hollowness of my heart. The shocking reality of it all was numbing; I welcomed the absence of feeling, the lack of reality, thankful for the short bit of escape before it all set in and I would be unable to outrun the tidal waves of emotion.
I lost all sense of passing time, partially hypnotized by the sight and sound of the slowly dissipating rain. Much later in the day, only an hour or so before sunset when the moisture in the air was no more than a fine mist, I started at the sound of footsteps treading cautiously down my alley.
"Fae?"
I looked up at the familiar voice, my empty gaze meeting Fiyero's. He reached to take my hand and help me to my feet. I stood, staring blankly in the direction of the square.
"How did you find me here?"
"I was sick of worrying; I needed to know that you were alright." He wouldn't drop my hand, even after I was fully upright and needed no assistance in movement.
"Never – follow me – again." I replied shortly; my voice was hard and backed by a force stronger than any tone I had used with him before. The command was fueled by a passionate desire for him to get as far away from me as possible before I could do anything else to hurt him. I was still haunted by what had come to pass the last time he had followed me somewhere. There could be no more blood, no more pain in the lives of the people I loved; I wouldn't be able to take much more. That moment in my wish to keep him from any more hurt I didn't realize that my ordering him to stay away from me was hurting him more than I could compensate for.
He led me away from the alley, his fingers clenched around mine; still he refused to drop my hand. Even still, despite his unwillingness to leave me he refused to meet my eyes or even look at my face. I could tell he was trying not to let my curt words and cold, distant stare penetrate through to his heart, and he wasn't doing a very good job of hiding how much I was wearing him down. In spite of the obvious strain so clearly etched on his face, in my detached state I took no notice of what he was feeling or how painfully evident it was displayed. All I knew and felt was that there was an absence of…something. I knew there was something I was supposed to feel, a grief of some sort, but no sensation of anything reached me; there was only hollowness, a void where the grief should have been housed. It was alarming, my sudden lack of pain – I had just witnessed the death of a close friend; shouldn't there have been some sort of sorrow induced in me by that? I was afraid, and yet the fear never registered completely in my mind. There were brief flashes of alarm, but the real sensation of terror never took hold. What was happening to me? This was nothing like the forced ignorance of emotion I had induced in myself that night at the Emerald Palace, this was a genuine emptiness brought on by my having been through so much loss, a real incapability of any feeling at all.
Fiyero led me back to the square. I looked up at the noose, still around Glinda's neck. There was no shock of aching sadness lancing through me at the sight of her hanging there dead; the only thing I was aware of was the presence of her body and Fiyero's hand over mine, only what tangible things I could see, could touch, could hear.
Pulling me up onto the platform, he took a switchblade from his pocket and handed it to me. I flicked it open and looked at the blade, a hungry expression taking over my face. It would just be so easy to end my false reality right here, to die without consciously acknowledging the physical pain and my hollow heart.
But I couldn't. I couldn't do that to Fiyero, even in my vacant state I knew I could never kill myself after all he'd done for me, all he'd reintroduced me to.
I grabbed the discarded stool Oz's king had formerly been sitting on, climbed upon it, put the switch to the rope and cut the noose down from its supports, my eyes blank and disconnected. Fiyero caught Glinda's body and lowered it down to me. I knelt on the sodden wood, her head in my lap. Thankfully, the thickness of my skirts kept the water from seeping through the layers of fabric, though I doubted that I would be able to feel the stinging in its entirety. As of the moment I wasn't able to feel much; even physical sensations were dulled, and the emotional ones were nonexistent.
I loosened the loop of the noose and slipped it over her head, gently fingering the chafed skin that had emerged from under the rope. Disgusted, I threw the thing aside. Brushing her wet curls from her face I kissed her forehead and said my last goodbyes, my eyes dry and my face empty of all emotion.