Chapter 3

The night had been fitful, full of strange dreams that flitted through her mind but did not impress themselves on her consciousness. Elphaba woke feeling heavy and exhausted just as dawn cracked over the horizon. She lay very still, plotting her day.

Chores…..there were always the chores. It cut into her time, but she had to keep it up. If she could maintain this roof over her head just a little longer…….she almost had enough support to start a true resistance, to do more than pass out flyers and attend angry meetings led by abused Animals.

Frederick, she remembered suddenly, I must meet with Frederick today.

She stood, surprised by how quickly she could muster strength when it came to her cause. Her last conversation with Frederick played through her mind as she dressed.

We'll meet him in three days, He had begun.

Who?

You know I can't say his name.

Oh yes…him. Three days?

Yes, at the clock tower. 1pm. Don't be followed.

I am not such a rookie. And he is a part of the greater Resistance?

There are supposedly hundreds.

Then we will overtake the Wizard!

You know……they have asked agents to commit murder...

I am ready.

And she was. Today would be the beginning of something. Today marked a new chapter. After today, she would never be the same.

She hurried down the stairs to start her morning chores. In near record time, she had set Hadrick off to work. His education afforded him the luxury of keeping his job as clerk and record keeper. A human capable of replacing him had obviously not yet come along. Any Animal keeping his job was good news to Elphaba, although most importantly his job gave her time to carry on her work.

After the door had slammed behind him, she whirled into a blur of activity. By noon the kitchen was scrubbed from top to bottom. Fresh fruit adorned the table. Hadrick's quarters had been dusted and polished, the linens changed. She stowed her cleaning supplies and slipped out the back door.

It was nearly twenty-five blocks to the clock tower that adorned the top of St. Aelphaba's cathedral. As she huffed and scurried down the street, Elphaba gave a moment's thought to the irony that this place bore her name. It could be destiny, if Elphaba believed there was something beyond herself moving things along. She sloughed it off.

The job, the cause… that is your only focus.

By the time she arrived at the church she was quite a sweaty mess. She wiped her brow briskly, removing the offending drops that stung her skin like saltwater to the eyes. She straightened her hair as best she could and slipped into the alley. It was dark, and cool despite the noonday sun. One could not avoid the stench of old meat and cat urine. She didn't pause to consider it. She moved quickly toward the alcove on the left and knocked firmly on the thick, oak door she found there. So far, all had gone well.

"Who is it?" Came a croaking whisper.

"One who wishes to become many," She gave her rehearsed reply.

The door swung openly quite soundlessly for its hulking size. She took the silence to mean she should enter.

She guessed the room was small, but neither sight nor sound could confirm it. After the door had swung quietly shut, she was shrouded in silence and a thick, palpable darkness. For several moments, only her breath stirred the air. She dared not speak.

"What is your name?" The voice came from nowhere.

"Fae."

"Is that your birth name?"

"No."

"Excellent. You would be useless had you just given me your real name. You will do nicely."

She did not have time to feel pride, as he spoke quickly, "You will find a vial in the trash receptacle outside this door in two days time. You will deliver it to the eighth ward post office by 3pm that day. Leave it in box 489. That is all."

There was another deathly silence. Elphaba was not entirely sure she if she had been left alone. She had to ask, "I've heard you dabble in murder…."

He seemed to understand her point. "All in due time," Was his reply. Then he was gone.

Elphaba walked the twenty-five blocks back with a combination of surging purpose and deflated expectation. She felt certain she had begun a new chapter. She was part of something bigger than herself. Yet her part seemed so small, so vague. She would be a pawn, if that's what was asked of her, if that's what was needed. But her mind was keen, questioning, wanting to understand, to see the whole picture with all its nuances, colors and possibilities. She was too intelligent, and despite her attempts at suppressing feeling, she cared too much about what was depicted in the puzzle to be content with carrying one piece. But it would do for now.

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She returned to the walkup tired and grubby, with hunger pains gnawing at her gut. Mercifully, Hadrick had not yet arrived. She swiped an apple and devoured it, knowing she would receive her due lashing later. It was an acceptable sacrifice, as she could not conduct any mission if she starved. She would need to eat a little better from now on, even if meant thievery. She had grown thinner, leaner and more angular since her departure from Shiz. Age and lack of food had whittled her into harder version of herself.

She seized her favorite broom, tall and full-bristled, and began to methodically sweep the stairs. She had noticed a film of dust, and she might stem Hadrick's anger over the apple if she was ahead on her work. She had swept her way nearly half way down when she heard the creaking of the door and………voices? Typically, Hadrick was alone. He didn't keep much company. Of course, if one hates all humans, and all Animals who show compassion towards humans, who is left to fraternize with?

"Fae!" It was a slightly softer bellow than usual.

Hadrick found her on the stairs. He was accompanied by a shabbily dressed man of about thirty. The man clearly needed a good shaving and soaking, possibly in lye. He sniffled constantly and his cheeks jiggled a little with each rub of his nose. His fingernails were torn and unclean, yet he poked them in and out of his mouth, further assaulting them. He reeked of sweat and rum.

"This is Pierory. He will be dining with us," From Hadrick, this was an order, not an invitation.

Elphaba hurried to pull the bread and meat from the oven and slice fruit in a bowl. She stood solemnly over the table as the men were seated. Hadrick simply nodded to the third chair, indicating that she should sit. He could not very well outright deny her food in the presence of a human, even one as questionable as Pierory. Animals did not have that right.

Pierory ate noisily, slopping and grunting. He seemed quite hungry, and not quite human. Like a dog licking a dish after several days of scavenging. He was almost more animal than human. It seemed to Elphaba like another strange, mocking twist in this world she was unraveling.

We are not all as easily defined as life would like us to be, she couldn't help speculating.

And there it was again, that lack of black and white. She was again assaulted with blurred definitions and contradictions of character. There they sat, the Animal so unworthy of saving, the human lacking both ambition to persecute and stamina to defend, and the green girl, none of them black or white.

Elphaba's physical and mental exhaustion began to win her over at the conclusion of dinner. She cleaned quickly and thoroughly as Hadrick and Pierory disappeared into the study. She thought she heard what might be negotiations wafting from the room. She had just blown out the kitchen light and had set to work again on the stairs when Hadrick stopped her. Pierory stood beside him, a slight smirk on his face. He reluctantly handed over a fistful of sweaty cash, which Hadrick pocketed quickly.

"Tonight," Hadrick ordered, "you will begin to earn your keep."

Elphaba instantly put the pieces to this sordid puzzle together. Her long, slender fingers dug crescents into the broom handle and she pulled herself to her full height. "I will do no such thing," Her voice was a low growl.

Hadrick showed no emotion. "You do not have a choice," He answered flatly, "You are not a person." He turned leave, throwing over his shoulder, "Consider this a partial payment for the apple."

At this, Elphaba's sharp eyes met Pierory's equally dull ones. "You don't have the guts," She hissed at him.

But he seemed to enjoy the challenge, and thundered up the steps to seize her, broom and all. She fought him like the devil, biting and clawing at his back like a deranged, feral cat. Yet for all her height and presence, she was a waif to him, easily lifted up the steps to her dank and shadowy room. Her tossed onto the bed like used linens and started to undo his belt.

She bolted toward the window, clawing at the frame. The height made no difference, she'd sooner die. But he was surprisingly quick, and larger than she had noticed. He whipped her back onto the bed and straddled her, pinning her flailing body with his. In one motion he ripped his belt away and bound her hands to the cold, iron bed frame. She kicked and writhed, drawing up welts on her arms where the belt cut into her flesh. Yet the protest seemed to urge him on.

He threw up her dress, bunching it around her neck, nearly choking her. He ripped away her threadbare undergarments and stared hungrily down at her.

"You will make a nice whore," He drawled, "All the paying young men will want to ravage the green girl. It's quite a novelty…"

Her shame was physical, a searing, stabbing, aching tightness that overtook her entire body. Not since birth had she stood naked before anyone, and now she was bound and stripped, castrated of all dignity. She shook with rage and paralyzing fear, fear she had never felt. Devoid of her cover of clothing, brains and wit, she was just the green girl, naked for all to see. It was as if every mocking, slurring experience came rushing back to pile on her at that very moment, to remind her of every inadequacy and failure. She was weak and bound and powerless. She was no great revolutionist, but a freak of nature being forced to provide carnal pleasure.

She felt it before it happened. Something welled up in her, like hot steam exploding from her pores. Without the aid of human hands, the broom sailed across the room to strike Pierory across the back of his head. He turned and seized it as it fell to the floor, and smirked, "You provide the best of games. You will make a good whore," He chuckled, "Now let's see if all of you is green."

With that he took her forcefully, not bothering to remove his clothes. She clutched the bed frame until her hands went numb as he ripped in and out of her. She felt her body tear, and the blood run as he tore away her virginity, her pride, her very self. And then he was through, satisfied and no longer in need of the crumpled, discarded green trash on the bed.

He did up his trousers and flipped his hair back with his hand. "You will make a good whore," He slapped her thigh. He turned toward the door, and then ambled back over, pulling something from his boot. It was a small blade. "Almost forgot something," He boasted. In one gesture he slashed the insides of both her thighs. "Any man who visits down there will know what you are now," He slurred into her ear, "You're marked now, marked a whore." He whipped his belt from around her wrists and strode out the door. It slammed behind him, finality without closure.

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Elphaba lay for a long time, unable to move, feeling as though a weight pressed down on her chest. She couldn't breathe. She would surely fall asleep from lack of breath and mercilessly leave this world behind. She didn't even need an afterlife, just release from the horror of herself. Yet the air cleared and she was alive, left to live yet another day with another scar.

After many slow, throbbing minutes the physical nature of this one began to nag at her. She could feel blood oozing down her thighs, wetting the bed sheet. Trembling violently, she sat up, slid herself off the bed and stumbled toward the washbasin. She cast her dress into the corner just as his warm, stinking fluid began to run down her thighs, mingling with her blood and making her wounds burn. She stumbled to her knees and the shaking became more violent. He wasn't even here and he was still causing her new pain!

She carefully dipped a cloth into the washbasin and rung it. Gingerly, she wiped the blood and mess from her thighs, wincing at the burn of the water on her skin. She had no choice, though. Saved only for the most severe circumstances, water was necessary. She painstakingly cleaned the wounds, knowing she would burn from the water for days, like a pale-skinned munchkin who stayed too long in the sun.

She could scarcely walk with the pain of the wounds mixing with the pain from the cleansing. She didn't even have any proper cloth to cover her injuries. She collapsed by the window, naked as birth and unable to find a reason to care now. She knew she made a ridiculous picture, naked and trembling, with long, wild, disarrayed hair. Her groin ached with violation and knife wounds. She felt the tears prick her eyes, and they ran before she could bite them back. The sting they made as they trailed down her face brought up something within her that was unlike anything she'd ever felt. It came out in the form of a scream, long, rich and guttural. It was almost inhuman, like an animal bellowing for its lost cub without the language to describe the pain. Wordlessly, she cried out to everyone and no one at once. She cried out in agony for her very birth, her constant ability to bring grief and strife, and to whomever her maker might be, for giving her so much pain, and a mocking inability to cry.