A/N: *Waves* Hope that Santa was good to you all?
I hope that this chapter is better than the last! While brainstorming ideas and making doodles, it just seemed to feel better!
With the additional help of long vodka's and ferrero rochers, I'm happy and this chapter is looking not too shabby!
More flashbacks in this chapter and hope that the characters don't appear too OOC! Quite a dark wee chapter BTW! So changed the rating just to be safe.
Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes and enjoy
Chapter Four: The Facade of Strength
Constance had spotted Mildred sitting alone on the stairs. It was odd for the young witch to be without her posse of friends. Intrigued, she observed the young witch.
Mildred sighed, her eyes staring at her new accessory which she hated with a passion. Her brow flexed and wondered how someone could be so cruel and heartless. Perhaps, she was too used to Miss Cackle, always seeing the glass as half full and continued to give her the chance to better herself. Mildred pondered about Mistress Broomhead's lecture regarding her personal record. Surely it was documented or acknowledged that she had in fact single-highhandedly saved the school on more than one occasion. That should count for something, shouldn't it?
Mildred's mind wondered about her potions mistress and the little pieces of her past that she had shared with her. Mildred was honestly shocked but the confession although, she had already noticed Miss Hardbroom's change in behavior when Mistress Broomhead had inspected the school. Now, it just made total sense. As, she looked at the bracelet, she was relieved that she would not receive any shocks and could not help but feel sorry for her normally cold teacher. No-one deserved to be treated like that.
Constance saw the saddened young witch finally get bored of being alone, waiting for her friends. She disappeared upstairs, no doubt to hide in her room. When Amelia returned, the bracelet was defiantly the first thing to go and begin to banish any memories that Hecketty Broomhead may have left.
The ancient castle lay in silence and darkness with the exception of one window. A single candle illuminated a small room, barely able to keep the darkness of the night at bay. A battle ragged between the blackness of the night and the light of the candle, a metaphoric war of good verses evil.
The sound emitting from the countless clocks around the building provided a lulling beat similar to a heartbeat and although it took some getting used to, the eerie silence took even longer to get used too.
Slender fingers reached up and unhooked the tight bun, sending her plait free and without effort, the plait magically unraveled. Her hair was free, her emotions were in contrast but her well constructed wall had already started to fracture and crack under the ever mounting pressure and stress.
Constance leaned against the door, her normal sharp posture slumped. The weight of the aching, heavy burden crippled her shoulders. Since the surprise arrival of the woman that was able to strike the fear of god into her closed heart, a decent night's sleep eluded her. The few hours of broken slumber were haunted by an endless parade of vicious nightmares which were only getting worse especially with the nearing of a particular date.
She had never been able to shake herself free from the shackles of oppression, choosing to hide behind her partially indestructible mask. Her eyes alone told the hidden story of her life, the self imposed loneliness only added to her amounting anxiety but was her own doing, trying to protect herself from the heartache and disappointment by others.
Uncharacteristically, she fidgeted with her hands. Trying to occupy her normally, logical thinking mind and given any other time, she had perfect control and the ability to remain calm, collected and virtually unfazed during times of panic but her mind felt like it an overstretched elastic band, near its snapping point.
Her mind had started overreacting, conjuring up the worse case scenarios. Amelia flashed into her distorted thoughts.
Amelia was that rare someone that she had allowed close but still remained on guard. She had the utmost respect for her although she did question her leniency especially when it came to a certain young, troublesome witch. Constance could never find the words to express her feelings and appreciation for everything that Amelia had done for her but deep down, she sensed that Amelia could read her like a predictable book and acknowledged that may be after time, Constance would eventually open up, talk to her but only in time, her own time.
Constance did not have family, to speak off and when Amelia left the academy in order to look after her ill aunt, she felt envious and worried. She knew it was selfishness on her part but with time as her enemy and the need for relying on someone else, still a foreign concept to her, she felt out of her depth. The fact that she was unable to handle this problem on her own unnerved her, her confidence wearing thin.
Constance sank into the water of the scolding hot bath, a guilty pleasure on her part. The heat itself melted away the physical tension that her body harbored but the mental tension remained even in the quietest part of her mind, chaotic thoughts were plagued with vile images. Some images of her horrific past that she had survived while other images were conjured by her tormented imagination.
She closed her eyes allowing her self to briefly escape. Only the sound of the dripping tap relaxed her. Her head felt heavy.
"Well, well, well...what do I spy with my little eye?"
The voice echoed in the enclosed room, serving the purpose to cause fright. Her eyes seemed to dance with glee and lustfully watched her.
Constance recoiled in horror, trying in vain to maintain her dignity from her watchful eyes and knew what was going through her head, "Get out!" she shouted, feeling vulnerable
Only her hands and bubbles protected her. No shield could stop Hecketty!
"Oh for goodness sake...control yourself!" her eyes questioning the bubbles, surely only a thing for children, "Besides, no-one can hear your pathetic pleas if you tried...Who would come rushing to your aid? You're the cold and heartless potions mistress." Hecketty threw back her head and cackled madly
Constance felt numb as the water turned cold. Goosebumps rippled over her body and her skin looked a pale blue tinge.
"I know what you and those poor excuses for teachers were plotting! Amelia is gone...she's never coming back for her school, her students and especially you." her voice low and menacing
Constance nervously shook her head, "No, she...she promised." teeth chattering
Hecketty leaned closer, "Empty words, my dear," the smile drained from her face when she witnessed tears, "You are pathetic."
Like a dam, a crack appeared and freed the tears that she had been desperately holding back. This was the ultimate sign of weakness, all those years gone to waste. All that time wasted. Hecketty grabbed her wrists and forced her under the cold water. Both women fought, one for control, the other for freedom.
"Stop crying...you're a grown woman and it's time to remind you what is expected of you." she screeched
Constance choked and coughed. Sitting hunched over the bath, she gasped for air. The water was still hot and she was alone in the small bathroom. It had been a nightmare, a frighteningly real nightmare. She looked at her wrists to see the beginning of some bruises, forming under her pale skin.
"Happy birthday to me." she whispered to her reflection, her watery eyes staring back at her. What had she possibly done in this life or in a previous life to warrant of all days, the return of Hecketty Broomhead?
She pulled out her diary from a secret compartment of the drawer and began documenting the day. Her shoulders hunched tiredly over the book as she scribbled in the blank pages.
Soon, the scribbling slowed and Constance caught her self nearly falling asleep while in the middle of writing. The events of the day and troubled sleep conspired against her and she had no choice but to reluctantly force herself to go to bed.
Sleep had been waiting for Constance and transported her into the unconscious world but something was lurking, waiting for her.
"Constance Hardbroom?" asked a voice
"Yes, Professor Blackstein?" she replied, looking up from the massive library book
"Your tutor mentioned that I would find you here...buried in your studies, excellent to see." he offered a friendly smile
"Can I help you with anything Professor?" before indicated over a table, littered with a number of volumes she needed to study, "I have an exam coming up"
She must have caught him off guard and he flustered, toying with his pocket watch "Ah, yes! There was something..." his voice trailed and looked around the library "I would like to continue this conversation in my office, if possible and when you have finished your studying."
Confused, she nodded and cast her eyes back to the pages, unaware that he watched her before departed.
She stood at a large door and timidly knocked against the thick wood, "Enter Constance." boomed a voice
Entering his private study, she pushed the door closed and took her place in front of the large desk, immaculately empty expect for his clasped hands.
"How is the studying? Please take a seat" he inquired and gestured to a chair
"Challenging...but I am thriving at the prospect" she replied coolly, almost smugly with confidence
Hector smiled, pleased with her progress. Hecketty Broomhead had in deed spoke the truth when it came to boosting about her top student. Every year, Hecketty would brag to Hector about her newest student and like Hecketty, he was only interested in the best, the very best and powerful
"Mistress Broomhead told me about your progress and how far ahead you are in regards to your fellow students," as he spoke, he rose from his chair. Walking about his office
Constance almost felt herself blush, the thought of her tutor paying her skills and hard work compliments was an honour in itself. Hecketty, very rarely offered her students verbal praise.
Hector strolled lazily around his office, his eyes never leaving the young witch's figure. He smirked, reminiscing about Hecketty's conversation regarding a prized and naturally talented witch, Constance Hardbroom. He watched with interest as the passion and awe that danced in Hecketty's eyes when talking about her student. Hector noted something else about Hecketty, something different while she spoke about Constance. He and Hecketty had been acquaintances for longer than he could remember and like Hecketty, only took an interest in the best and those students that showed potential. They simply needed a firm hand to guide and mold them.
His hands rested on the chair. Licking his lips and leaned down to her ear, "I only favour the best and powerful witches...like you." he whispered
Constance remained seated although utterly confused, perhaps instead of Hecketty being her tutor may be Hector had taken on that role. If only that were true! She could only hope.
His strong fingers entwined through her hair and pulled her head back sharply. She gasped in pain and shock, her eyes widened in fear. Hector buried his face into her soft hair and inhaled her youthful scent causing his heart to skip several beats and his eyes to flutter.
"I think I shall enjoy you the most!" he confessed as a powerful hand wrapped around her trembling neck, "Hecketty spoke so highly of you and I must satisfy my growing curiosity. She seemed almost taken with you...I can only suspect that you are her 'companion'." His tone changed to that with disgust
"But..." interrupted Constance, only to feel his grip tighten around her neck, her mind was catapulted into sheer panic and shuddered to think what Hecketty had told Hector. After all, Hecketty had not taken the rejection from Constance very well.
"Now, my dear...let's see if what everything Hecketty said is in fact true?" he laughed
Hecketty Broomhead licked the envelope shut before using a privacy spell and a wax seal to ensure the private contents where never exposed to the wrong eyes. Grasping the letter tightly, she vanished from Amelia's office and re-appeared into the temporary room. The running of any school was exhausting but her age and the disorganization of this school had quickly ravished her energy.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she closed her eyes and massaged her temples. Underneath closed eyelids, she opened her mind and could sense that Constance had just started to sleep, about to enter the dream world of unconsciousness until Hecketty intervened. Summoning all the energy she could muster, Hecketty was able to manipulate long lost memories and conjure a nightmare.
Now, breathless after her tiring ordeal, Hecketty virtually collapsed into the bed, "Happy birthday, Constance." she whispered before unconsciousness overtook her weakened mind and body
Constance withered against the bed-covers, fighting against a seemingly invisible force. Her arms raised and pinned above her head, sinking into the surrounding pillows while her legs kicked and buckled wildly.
Her movements were slow and timid, not wanting to aggravate her newly acquired injuries. The corridors were deserted as she limped towards her room.
She finally made it to safety and leaned against the door. Her body ached, crying out in agony at the various bruises and cuts that graced her pale skin from under her uniform. The bitter taste of bile tainted her taste buds, threatening to loose her lunch.
A single, powerful knock on her bedroom door nearly shattered the tiny remains of control. She hesitated that it was Professor Blackstein chasing her, ready to act on his previous threat that he promised should she speak about their 'meeting'.
The door nearly flew off its hinges when Hecketty Broomhead stormed into the small room. The door slammed shut and vibrated the adjoining walls. She loomed towards her cowering student, a powerful hand wrapped around her already bruising neck which went unnoticed. Although, Hecketty sensed something strange about her student, she was too enraged to show any form of warmth or concern.
Unknown to Constance, Hecketty had witnessed her student limp out of Professor Hector Blackstein's office and raised an eyebrow. She confronted her long time friend after overhearing despicable and vicious rumours about the friend she respected and the only person that saw Hecketty for who she really was, the only person that she had time for.
"Hecketty...you bragged about your most prized student and I wanted to test her," he shouted in defense and thrust an ancient book into her hands, "If, she was as talented as you said...then she would not have trouble with the simple questions from this book."
"And?" demanded Hecketty, throwing the book onto his desk, arms folded
"She seemed ashamed and almost embarrassed that she could not answer my questions. When she failed...she began to act inappropriately. I pushed her away and she must have injured herself but I assure you that the accusation from you...you of all people...well it disgusts me."
Hecketty was torn. Plenty of rumours had floated around the college usually out of malice and contempt for the lecturers as a desperate act of revenge by students who felt they had been singled out and their overall marks had suffered. Hector had been her only close, personal friend. If there was anything suspicious then surely she would be the first to notice?
"I strongly suggest that you control your so called 'top' student! She is nothing but a common little slut and I will not have my name tainted." He demanded angrily, asserting his authority over Hecketty
Numbly, she nodded and vanished from his office. Hector smiled and turned to the window. His eyes watching the many students come and go and like a shark, his hunger was insatiable. His appetite for the youthful and innocent only fuelled him. As a professor, he had access to an endless supply of victims.
Hecketty stifled her contempt to growl at Constance. She stared at the young witch with disgust and jealously. Hecketty had approached Constance for companionship but she rejected the notion and instead chased the opposite sex. If she thought getting 'over friendly' with Professor Blackstein to further any prospects for her future career then she was greatly mistaken. Unable to mask her own hurt emotions for Constance, she verbally attacked her.
"I curse the day you were born." Her voice filled with poison, her eyes belonged to that of a maniac
She tightened her grip briefly around her thin neck which could have easily been snapped. Hecketty pushed Constance away from her, unable to be so close to the student without feeling sick.
Constance woke to something soft tickling her face. Slowly, opening her eyes, she cried out in fright and fear when she saw that she was not alone. A hand muffled any form of sound and a soft, warm voice whispered in the blackness of the room.
"Sssh! I'm here to help!" taking the hand away from Constance' mouth
Convinced she was dreaming or having a nightmare, she did not dare move "Who?" she muttered
"I heard that you had been summoned to the professor's office...I know what happens in there!"
Constance sat up in bed and brought to life a candle. The flickering light revealed a grown woman, another tutor in the college.
"Constance...you're not the only one! Hector Blackstein has been...well, for many years...even when I was a student here," she paused, her own memories resurfacing
The tutor explained to Constance that she was once a promising young witch, under the teaching of Mistress Broomhead. Student life had been a challenge especially when Hecketty was her personal tutor but she survived until she, herself was summoned to the professor's office. For hours, she had to endure pain; such levels of pain she did not think existed or thought possible.
"You returned? You came back to teach...knowing what he was doing and did to you?"
The tutor nodded, "Yes! But I try to help the students that suffer at his hands...here"
She took placed to small vials into her hand, "These potions will take away the pain and stop any physical marks from showing...it will heal you."
Constance looked at the other vile, "And this one?"
The tutor closed her eyes, "This will ensure that you don't become pregnant with his child!"
"Why do you do it? You could be found guilty by association alone!" asked Constance
The tutor shook her head in shame, "I'm only doing this because I do not want any other student to suffer...endure what I had to go through. Who would believe me? It was so long ago when I was...attacked. He's so powerful, so many friends...in high places..." her voice trailed off
Finally able to defeat the nightmares and unconsciousness, Constance sat bolt upright in bed. Once again, sweat and tears made her normally soft hair and pyjamas cling to her glistening skin. A shaky hand covered her mouth and muffled her aching sobbing.
Morgana awoke and now sat on the foot of the bed, her head cocked to one side. Even the animal was aware that nothing could or would console the emotionally frayed witch.
"Amelia...if there was ever a time...I need you, your guidance and strength...now." she cried into her hands.
Slowly, she was unraveling and she did not like what she was slowly becoming. The masquerade of confidence and control was becoming a harder part to play. She felt constantly on show, the eyes of her colleagues and students alike watching her, judging her, dissecting her with their eyes.
Her hands grabbed fistfuls of hair and squeezed her eyes tightly. The spell that had been cast was beginning to degrade with disastrous consequences. Spiraling out of control and descending into madness.
"Would I be better off dead?" thinking aloud
"Yes!" hissed a voice that emanated from somewhere within her room