This would explain the summary and chapter 2 for anyone who was wondering.

Also about the fiyeraba thing, you will get some eventually but Elphaba and Dorothy and her crew don't meet until the end but don't worry! I have a lot planned for Elphaba in the mean time...

Wordlessly, I set the car to reverse and backed up off the Witch. For a moment I sat there dreading to see the destruction I caused. I remembered articles and photos I saw of hit and run accidents, the victim lying lifeless on the ground, paramedics swarming the area. I didn't want to look at her.

But I couldn't just sit there forever. As I slid open the door, I wondered vaguely what would happen if I just left. What if I were to drive off like this never happened and leave the Witch for some other person to find and deal with? A local who has lived in Oz their whole life and who has knowledge of certain resources such as where the nearest hospital is, if ambulances are available. Would she be better off if I drove off and left her in more capable hands? Or would she die before anyone found her?

I stepped out of the car.

I nearly fainted at the sight.

The Witch had fallen perpendicular to the car, her head lolled to the side. The blow to her head had exposed bits of her skull through the gash running across her forehead, blood gushing all over her face, soaking into the gauze taped over her eye and into her shirt, making a mockingly pretty contrast against her green skin, her foot was twisted, hanging crazily outward with bits of bone protruding from her ankle like white slivers and her leg seemed to have split open, bones sticking up from the wound. But worse was that her entire lower body was covered in tire burns that had scraped off layers of skin, leaving messy, sticky lesions that clung to her cloths, staining them dark and wet. And those were only external injuries for I could also see she had blood flowing out of her mouth, and she had red spinal fluid dripping from her ears. A pool spread from her like a mass of hot, dark – almost black syrup, slowly creeping along the Yellow Brick Road as if her fluids were attempting to escape the wretched body they had been placed in...which is actually extremely insulting.

"I…I'll go get help" stuttered Dorothy and she hastily turned to sprint off down the road, leaving me alone with the half dead Witch.

"Hey Dorothy wait…" she didn't respond either because she was too far down the Road to hear me or because she was simply ignoring me in order to get away. Damn.

I groaned and turned my attention to the Witch. For a moment I could only stare at her in horror. I had never seen anyone or anything with severe injuries except in movies but that hardly counts – it's not real, only visual. I could smell the coppery scent of blood as it drained from her body and all over the Yellow Brick Road, glistening in the sun and it was becoming nauseating to breathe – the stench of blood had seemed to grab at my stomach, slowly twisting it as I continued to stare at the broken Witch. I averted me eyes. I didn't want to look at her.

But on the other hand, this was almost comical. In the stories – fairytales that are read by children and too children, the Witch is always the old (in most cases centuries old if that's even possible), shrivelled up, crazy hag, cackling madly while dancing around a smoking cauldron or riding about on a broom, relishing in her own wickedness as she basically scares the hell out of everybody.

But this Witch; the Wicked Witch of the West who probably wasn't a day over 40 seemed to have almost wanted to defy the standard perception of a Witch by getting killed in one of the most common ways; by being hit by a car driven by an unqualified teenager. I mean totally how out of place is that?

I tried to imagine how a fairytale like this would go.

The Witch came after the girl who had managed to escape from her tower.

The Witch chased her down through the courtyard, and into the forest, screaming curses and threats of oncoming violence if the girl didn't come back this instant. They ran through the forest and came across a road…a paved, one lane road.

The girl crossed without an issue, the Witch burst through the underbrush after her and was halfway across when -

WHACK!

The car drives on.

The End.

That would have been the greatest parody ever.

The Witch remained motionless.

I gulped and hesitantly but full of will, made my way toward the Witch with my hands pressing down into my sweater pockets, my steps shaky. I was standing directly over her, covering my nose and mouth. She was a wreck.

"Hey…" Hey Witch…Nah that doesn't sound good. "Hey uh...Miss?" she didn't respond.

So I nudged her arm with my foot, seeing if she could register touch. No response.

The next level of unconsciousness is if she doesn't respond to pain. I stepped on her fingers, leaning over so my weight was concentrated on the foot that was pressing on her. Still no response.

"Aw c'mon" I muttered desperately and in a last ditch attempt for reassurance that the Witch was still somewhat conscious and not dead, I lifted my foot and stomped hard on her hand, half expecting her to suddenly leap up in fury and wring my neck…like a zombie. But she remained deathly still like a tacit reminder to my careless driving. Always keep your eyes on the road I was told over and over again in my lessons to the point it became annoying. Well now I see what they mean.

I sighed, exasperated at my stupidity. I can't believe I actually ran over a person! And it's a Witch.

The Witch was starting to look a bit clammy and blood had drained from her face and onto the Yellow Brick Road causing her to turn a strange mint green color. Is it possible to go into shock while unconscious? I should have taken a first aid course.

I went back into the car deciding there was nothing more I could do to help and rested my head on the wheel, closing my eyes. I'm not sure how long I stayed there but before I knew it, I heard Dorothy calling out from down the Road.

"Becky I got somebody!"

I bolted upright and hopped out of the car to be faced by Dorothy and her handsome, straw companion.

"Oh my god! Him?" I shrieked more in shock than anything else. It – he didn't seem too harmful. It was just freakily unnatural to have a scarecrow actually walk and...function.

"Ma'am" he said not sounding too offended. "I assure you my intentions are of nothing but the best."

"He means it Becky" said Dorothy earnestly "He ain't gonna do harm to anyone."

I…I know but like…"

"Like what?" asked Dorothy

He fucking scares me. "Like…never mind – its fine" I said, deciding that if Dorothy can get over it, so can I.

"So what's the problem?" asked the Scarecrow light heartedly, totally oblivious of the scale of the problem. He probably thought we had a flat tire or something. I wondered if Dorothy should have told him.

Dorothy and I exchanged looks, cringing and led him down the Road where the Witch lay. I remained expressionless for I could feel no emotion toward the Witch. I ran her over, she's probably dying and it was totally my bad but this was the Witch. The Wicked Witch of the West who accused me of murder and actually wanted to kill me. This was an accident. It wasn't my intent to kill her like she wanted to kill me. It was an accident I killed her. She would have murdered me.

But then again, there is the chance she's not dead.

"Here she is" said Dorothy flatly, pointing at the body. The Scarecrow did a double take at the sight, his marble eyes looking like they might fall out of his head...which in theory is possible.

"Sweet Oz this…this is the Wicked Witch!" he said, shocked to the core. None of us responded. He continued forward followed by Dorothy and I so we were all standing over the Witch, staring down at her broken body.

"Oh dear me." whimpered Dorothy in horror, peering at the gash in the Witch's head and the blood it was gushing onto the Yellow Brick Road and the Witch's now eerily pale face.

"I…I never knew a Witch to bleed." whispered the Scarecrow, his weird eyes wide in awe. I couldn't help but to be curios.

"What do you mean?" I asked. He wasn't too scary.

"It's their age." he explained. "They are thought to be so old, that their fluids had dried up from age – at least that's what folks say."

What do the biologists say? "So what do we do?" I asked instead.

"We could…leave her…here"

I wasn't expecting that. Even he seemed unsure of it.

"Oh no we simply musn't leave her here!" exclaimed Dorothy. "The poor soul, she must be in pain."

"Miss Dorothy, Witches are known to be unable to feel pain" replied the Scarecrow.

"Yeah like they aren't known to bleed?" I shot back, not intending to sound harsh. "Plus, I thought you can still feel things while you're like unconscious like that."

The Scarecrow shrugged vaguely. "Well I wouldn't know. I'm brainless you see."

This was getting off topic. "Kay but do you seriously want to just ditch her?" and leave her for some other passerby to find…what if it's an old person and they get a heart attack! But then it could be better to leave her with a local instead of two clueless, completely foreign kids…the Scarecrow is a local. Why doesn't he doesn't he take charge?

"Well I certainly don't." chirped Dorothy, staring up at us endearingly like a child begging to be taken into consideration.

The Scarecrow and I exchanged glances. We had to come to a decision soon or the Witch might die on us anyway.

"Well how about…" I felt like I was discussing a road trip. Fist, we can stop at Tim Horton's, and then drive along the highway... "We can help her out then turn her in…we can load her into my car – the seats are already down so there's space… but how are we gonna move her?"

"I know." said the Scarecrow, agreeing with this option. "One of you goes by her feet and the other at her waist."

We did as we were told, Dorothy at her waist and myself at her feet. We looked up at the Scarecrow who had positioned himself at her head.

"Now what you do" he said "Is slide your arms under her and at the count of three, we lift. Ready?"

"Ummm….." I looked down at the bloody mess of the Witch, her foot bent outward at a horrible looking angle, shards of bone protruding from her ankle while her shin seemed to have collapsed on itself …there's no way in hell I'm touching that and what if she's contagious? What if we turn green?

I tried to imagine myself with green skin, dressed in black skinny jeans, a tank top and black converse shoes…flying on a vacuum machine, the electrical cord dangling in the air. I'm suddenly wearing a Witch's hat and I'm whizzing around in the air, cackling like all Witch's do…until I smack into a window. I cleared my head of the distracting thought and focused on Dorothy and the Scarecrow. Dorothy looked just as disgusted as I was but at the same time, full of will. The Scarecrow looked like he wanted to just get on with it, the way he clenched and unclenched his fingers anxiously.

We stood there in silence, fidgeting uselessly, and hesitant to take action. Finally the Scarecrow made a move.

"Oh for Oz sakes!" he exclaimed and came over by the Witch's side then kneeled down, slipping his hands underneath her. He scooped the whole disgusting mess of her up bridal style so her head was resting on the Scarecrow's shoulder, her limbs hanging limp while her jellied blood ran thick and opaque down her face like an anxious stream soaking into Scarecrow's shirt.

"I can't believe this is happening" I muttered, staring at the Witch's broken figure, knowing I was the cause of her condition…shit if she dies, I could be charged with first degree murder! But she's a criminal so maybe they will just let me walk….

The Scarecrow shifted his shoulder "And I can't believe I'm actually helping you folks."

This got me thinking. Why is he helping us? I tried to imagine myself in his position.

I get a request from an innocent little girl to help her with something. Can't say no, so I oblige and walk down with her to find she and her friend ran over a famous criminal who now lay in a great, bloody mess of broken bones and scraped flesh…I couldn't just walk away from that.

I looked up at the Scarecrow. I was surprised he was able to actually carry the Witch. He was made of straw which is not all that dense so one would expect for him to have some difficulty lifting a grown woman. But then again the Witch was thin – not anorexic thin but quite slim but still! She had to weigh at least a hundred or so pounds.

"This way." I said and led him and Dorothy to the van. I opened the trunk. I still found the space in this car to be quite amazing. I mean in the commercials you'd see kids being able to stand in the car, play board games, draw and pretty much entertain themselves (according to the commercial) all while laying full length. The reason my eccentric parents bought this car was because they figured the increased mobility would keep me and my brother from fussing during long trips and it would be convenient when we brought friends. For a while, it worked but now since I'm 16 and my brother 12, its kind of pointless…unless you have transport unconscious people.

"You can lay her down the long way." so she was parallel to the walls. The Scarecrow stood sideways so the Witch's feet were first. He shifted his arms forward in a slow, tossing motion, leaning sideways and gingerly set her down, making sure nothing jerked or flopped over and that she was laying straight.

At least I know she's not dead. I thought. She's way too loose to be dead.

"Is she breathing?" I asked wondering why I was coming so late to this question. It's a vital after all.

The Scarecrow, Dorothy and I peered at the Witch's chest and saw no movement. Then the Scarecrow reached out and placed a hand on her ribcage. He stayed there for a moment before turning to me and shaking his head.

"Maybe you could tilt her head back a bit" I paused. What if she has a spinal? "But what if she has a spinal?" I added.

"It wouldn't matter by now" he replied. He had carried her and bent her spine already… but there was still a good chance that would have happened anyway - even with Dorothy and I cooperating. He turned his attention to the Witch and placed a hand on her forehead and the other on her chin, pushing it backward so her head was tilted far back. I peered at her chest and thought I saw a slight movement. I looked closer and saw it again. She was breathing but slightly. I still don't know how that works.

I took off my sweater and bunched it up into a roll.

"What are you doing?" asked Dorothy, looking at me quizzically.

Wordlessly, I shoved my sweater under the Witch's neck so her head remained tilted back. Dorothy and the Scarecrow hurried to either side of the car and hopped in while I closed the trunk. I got into the driver's seat. The Scarecrow was beside me.

Before I could ask, he told me about a hospital that was about 20 or so miles in the outskirts of Munchkin land located at the end of district 3…which was in the opposite direction but I wasn't going to argue. I did a clumsy U – turn, backing up onto the curb before managing to set the car straight, facing forward. I stepped on the accelerator until I was at 40 km per hour. This time, I kept my eyes trained on the Yellow Brick Road.

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