The Wicked Witch of the West sat at her desk with her head down, her bony forearm fitted perfectly in the dent between her forehead and nose. The neurons in her brain had betrayed her, ripping each other apart, obliterating one another so her head felt like it might explode, the pounding like echoing gunshots. And her eye stung like a steel wire had been inserted into the vitreous and was poking, digging into the back of her lenses. The gauze now seemed unnecessary.
She shuddered and let her conscious distract her.
What new punishment is this? She thought. Haven't I endured enough?
The green skinned child, born an aberration of the human species, either as punishment for her father's failure to the Unnamed God or for her mother's loose morals or maybe both? She could never be sure.
They called her the Devil Child.
But the Devil Child had continued to grow from a pixie of a toddler to a shy, awkward teenager yet quick to sound her own opinions. She'd disappear for hours – even days just for the comfort solitude provided her.
Then she went away permanently to Shiz University. The students at Shiz came from decent families who taught their offspring to be civil toward abnormities so she was left alone – not like the slums of Qhyore. She become quite outspoken, always quick to sound opinions and challenge professors, the younger ones grinning at her while the older ones sent her to detention. She found her talent and even made friends – The Charmed Circle.
She had a bright future.
But then the world revealed itself, placing a fork in her life, one path leading to life as a high ranking official, to be recognized, respected and to live as a fraud. The other lead to publicity of a different kind. To live as a fugitive but with a clear conscious.
She became the Wicked Witch of the West to Oz and Fae to the resistance.
But the name had died with him, the bright blood making a mockingly pretty contrast against his blue diamonds. He lay sprawled in the middle of the room, unable to be revived even after treatment with chants and nonsense words she had picked up along the way.
The Witch sighed bitterly. Nessa had always believed in the Unnamed God but why would he allow such misery in the world he controlled? How could he let her suffer like this? But then again, she was also considered Devils spawn so perhaps the Unnamed God was using her fate, twisting it into some horrid, tragedy of a life to drive to her into wickedness. Punishing her on behalf of the Devil….or perhaps she was merely being neglected like all other miserable creatures. That made more sense. She was a non – believer so therefore the Unnamed God was unable to believe in her. He had left her without guidance, allowing her to twist her own life into a tragedy – into wickedness.
But then there are people who really did believe and look what happened to them! Where is the sense in that?
Oh Nessa the Witch thought, sighing. You had always believed so strongly in the Unnamed God ...but it appears the Unnamed God did not believe in you - The Wicked Witch of the East.
The Witch cried out in frustration and sprang up, her eyes blurry from being pressed against her forearm. She looked about the room, blinking to clear her vision. A blurry brass alarm clock by her bed that had gone dusty with neglect, a blurry pair of reading glasses, a blurry mass of paper strewn about the floor, a blurry crystal ball….she looked closer and felt her stomach sink for a moment. Was her vision really that bad? Was her other eye also damaged?
She saw to her relief that condensation was dripping onto the table.
The air within the frosty crystal ball seemed to rearrange itself, greyness swirling into a bright landscape, becoming trees, a brightly coloured road, some sort of large, funny looking vehicle and a group of disoriented misfits gathered around a figure on the ground, their clumpy silhouettes like masses of half set gelatine, constantly shifting their shape like the equivalent of fidgeting. Then finally one of them bent down and lifted the thing on the ground, it's vague, shapeless features separating into arms, legs, a head with a hat filled with a grassy substance like straw….
If the Witch could reach out and wipe the fog with the edge of her sleeve, she could see the vision with full clarity but decided not to.
She instead grabbed her broom and headed down the stairs, hoping not to run into anyone. How was she going to explain the gauze covering her eye?
But then again, it also depended on who she encountered. Nanny would certainly demand an explanation – the Witch knew that much from spending the majority of her childhood with the woman. It would be difficult to tell her off. And then there was Liir. Liir was not a problem – he'd barley have the nerve to ask anyway.
The Witch pushed open a side door leading to the north courtyard when she heard a voice behind her
"Elphie dear"
The Witch; Elphaba spun around to see Nanny of all people standing in front of her.
Its official! The Unnamed God must hate me! Elphaba hoped that Nanny's vision had deteriorated enough so she wouldn't notice the gauze covering her eye. She felt foolishly like a teenager wanting to escape the watchful eyes of their caregivers.
"Elphie dear" Nanny said again "You aren't leaving again are you? Remember what happened last time you took one of your little voyages?"
"Must you remind me?" said Elphaba annoyed and turned quickly to leave, wanting to avoid further questioning.
"And what happened to your eye?" said Nanny before the Elphaba could walk out the door.
"Nothing of importance to you" she replied, cringing at the vagueness of her explanation. This is pathetic she thought. I'm the Wicked Witch of the West, I've managed to defy the iron grip of the Wizard and escape the Gale Force but I can't escape my own Nanny?
"Oh no - it can't be nothing – tell Nanny"
"Why must you always assume something is wrong every time we speak? I appreciate your concern" She didn't "But it isn't necessary" Elphaba said tartly and strode out into the courtyard, closing the door behind her before Nanny bombarded her with complaints. She could never really escape that woman
Elphaba's mind went back to the image she saw – especially that figure that was lying on the ground, the way it's limbs fell limp when it was lifted, the way the others were hesitant to touch it.
She had a horrible feeling about this.