The Unknown
Her glance did fall on the tired old looking glass, despite her intentions.
She thought: the Witch with her mirror. Who do we ever see but ourselves,
and that's the curse.
-Wicked, p. 381
"Please, Miss Elphaba. Do have a seat."
Elphaba sat down a little stiffly in the chair opposite Madame Morrible's desk, doing her best to hide her unease under a look of informal regard. It didn't make much of a difference whether she was sitting or standing, unfortunately; she was going to be uncomfortable in the woman's presence regardless. Grommetik stood just to her left, clanking and whirring away in obvious anticipation for his next task. While Elphaba had no real idea why she had been summoned to the headmistress' office, it was clear that the reason wasn't liable to be good.
As if sensing her thoughts, Morrible favored her with an unconvincing smile, then motioned to Grommetik to fetch the tea service on the other side of the room.
"There, thingy," she said firmly. "Bring the tea, and slowly this time. We can't have you cogging around and spilling milk all over the place, can we?"
The small Tiktok device let out a humming whine, and turned to fetch the tea with more attitude than was proper for a clockwork machine. Morrible ignored him, even when he graciously brought the tea over without spilling a single drop.
"No biscuits this time, eh? What a pity. Oh well, then. How do you take your tea, Miss Elphaba? Would you care for any sugar?"
"Just a slice of lemon, please," Elphaba replied. "Thank you."
Morrible handed her the teacup, and sat down to pour one of her own. "Well, well," she said, "now that we're all settled, I'd imagine you're rather anxious to find out why I've called you here this afternoon. No need to worry, dear. You're not in any trouble as I've yet managed to discover. It seems your Nanny has proven to be a most capable chaperone. Have you enjoyed having her here?"
"Yes, Madame," Elphaba replied.
"And your sister, Miss Nessarose? Has the transition been agreeable for her as well?"
"I believe so, Madame, though you might earn a more detailed answer if you were to ask her yourself."
Morrible took a sip of tea. "She's certainly inherited your superior intellect, Miss Elphaba. I must admit that we were all a bit concerned that she wouldn't be able to keep up with the curriculum, but she's proven quite the opposite. A rather capable young girl, if not perfectly tragic."
"Nessarose was always very good at picking up on things quickly," said Elphaba. "Her love of knowledge and learning was one of the few forms of independence she had growing up."
"Indeed," said Morrible. "And does she have plans for herself after she finishes school?"
"I couldn't say, Madame. I think our father expects her to settle in Colwen Grounds once the title of Eminent Thropp is officially bestowed on the next in line."
"Meaning you," said the headmistress bluntly.
Elphaba didn't reply. Morrible nodded anyway, apparently satisfied that her question had already been answered.
"Politics are always a headache to discuss, aren't they?" she smiled as she set her tea down on her desk. "And family politics at that. We're often given responsibilities that we never asked for, or at least have no interest in keeping. Still, I don't think we should completely write off all of the possibilities you and Miss Nessarose possess to distinguish yourselves beyond what's merely expected of you. That is, after all, what we strive to offer you at this university: opportunities."
"That's very generous of you," said Elphaba, doing her best to maintain a blank expression.
"Not at all, Miss Elphaba- I only speak the truth. But pleasantries aside, I did have an ulterior motive for calling you in here today."
Elphaba's body tensed. She watched as the headmistress leaned forward in her chair, clasping her long, claw-like hands in a point just under her chin.
"It's about your roommate."
Elphaba blinked. "Glinda?"
"Glinda… Galinda… whatever she insists on calling herself. But yes, I wanted to ask you about her. I understand that her behavior has been a bit worrying of late, as you may or may not have noticed."
"I'm not entirely sure what you mean," said Elphaba, betraying nothing of her own concerns.
Morrible's lip curled into something of a sneer. "Don't you, Miss Elphaba, or are you merely feigning ignorance? Her professors tell me that her grades have declined, and that she's become increasingly anti-social with her friends. The little I've seen of her in her sorcery lectures has given me all the proof I need that the girl is clearly unwell. And as you're her roommate, I was hoping you might be able to provide greater detail on the nature of these symptoms so that we might know best what to do with her."
The blood in Elphaba's veins turned frigid. "Do with her?"
"Oh really," Morrible huffed as if rebuking her. "You make me sound like a villain. I'm merely concerned for her health and well-being, Miss Elphaba. The girl has been on a bit of a decline for some weeks now, hasn't she?"
"You might call it that," Elphaba replied, keeping her anger in check. "I'm no expert on anyone's emotional well being, but I think it's fair to say that she never took what happened to her Ama very well."
"Ah, yes. Poor Ama Clutch…" Morrible stood from her chair and casually walked over to the nearby window, hands clasped firmly behind her back. "It's been a stressful year for all of us, hasn't it? So many changes… so many uncertainties..." She stared out of the window for several moments, almost as if she'd forgotten Elphaba was even there. It confused her more than it unsettled her, though Morrible had been plenty unsettling enough. When she eventually turned back to stare at her, the look she fixed on Elphaba was calculating. Malevolent.
Evil, even.
"I don't pretend to understand all of the ridiculous intrigues of you young people, Miss Elphaba, but I'm not so old as to guess there isn't something far more personal that is troubling our Miss Glinda. Her Ama might have been dear to her, but I'm not entirely sure that I believe it's the cause of all of this poor, undisciplined behavior. More likely the girl has quarreled with a lover, or had some sort of argument with her friends. Miss Greyling tells me that Glinda wants to drop out of sorcery now, and for such a talented young girl—well! Can you imagine my confusion?"
"Frankly, Madame, I had no idea that the heads of Shiz took such an undivided interest in only a handful of their students." It was as much of an implication as it was an observation, but Elphaba thought it was worth the risk of saying it. Morrible appeared to have caught her subtle insinuation as the corner of her eye twitched for a fraction of a second.
"It's no secret that your educators have a tendency to favor certain students above the others, Miss Elphaba," she said with a wry grin. "Oh, we try to encourage everyone to make the most of their education here at Shiz, but to own the truth, the larger portion of our energies are focused on those students who possess real potential. I'm sure that's why our dearly departed Dr. Dillamond encouraged you so fervently, don't you think so?"
It was impossible to be sure, but it seemed as though there was a perverse implication behind Morrible's words that was not at all to Elphaba's liking. Her fingernails dug into the palms of her hand, but still, she remained silent.
"I can assure you that your suspicions of my motives are completely unfounded," Morrible went on. "Miss Glinda just happens to be a… favorite of mine, and I want to make sure that she has every opportunity to succeed."
"If that's the case, Madame Morrible, then I might recommend going to Glinda herself. All I can tell you is what you've heard from everyone else; she's quieter, a little more withdrawn, and that's roughly the extent of it. If she has been quarreling with a lover of late, or failing any of her classes, she hasn't confided in me about it."
Morrible scrutinized Elphaba for a hard minute, then smiled at her in an understanding, condescending fashion. "No—I don't suppose she would, would she? Well well. Thank you for time, Miss Elphaba. You may leave."
Elphaba stormed out of Morrible's office as irritated as ever. She hadn't been sure what the vile old witch had wanted, but this… this.
Glinda. Everything always came back to Glinda. Was it not enough that Elphaba herself was having difficulty concentrating on anything anymore with her roommate acting so contrary? How was she supposed to explain it?
She'd had no idea that Glinda was failing her classes, or that she had expressed a desire to drop out of sorcery. Sure, Glinda was bored when it came to most subjects in school, but the girl wasn't incompetent when it came to the application of her learning. So why this? Why now? Nothing seemed to be making sense. All that Elphaba did know was that the haughty, pretentious girl from Frottica that she had come to know and even grown fond of was dying right in front of her, and she couldn't explain why. Morrible may have had an inkling as to what was going on, but Glinda's despondency ran far beneath her perfect, painted exterior. Further than everyone could see.
Her eating habits were poorly. Food was picked at and largely discarded for the majority of the meals they shared together. It was unclear whether Glinda didn't have the stomach for it, or if she simply lacked the will.
When Glinda slept, if she slept at all, they were short stretches of nothing filled with tortured dreams and incomprehensible nightmares. Elphaba would wake every morning to find Glinda sitting up in bed, staring out into the grey dawn with glassy eyes and flesh so pale it was hardly a contrast to the sheets. These were the moments when Glinda was furthest away from her, in everything but the most physical sense of the word. Whatever she'd seen, or whatever she felt, she never discussed it with Elphaba.
Nor would Glinda return to the infirmary to visit Ama Clutch.
Most people were starting to keep their distance from her now as well. Where she had once been the focus of much social consideration, Glinda was now a prime subject for gossip and even ridicule. Elphaba had heard of the incident at the café weeks ago, though her friends had failed to give her any satisfactory answers on what precisely had happened. Most of the information had come from the well-oiled rumor mill that was Shiz University, and each version of the story was less credible than the last. She considered broaching the subject with Glinda herself, but the very idea seemed impossible. It was much easier to share meaningless discourse every morning as they would walk together, arm in arm. Nessa and Elphaba were the only people she really talked to, anyway, which was more of a credit to Nessa's willingness to befriend the friendless than it was Glinda's efforts to reach out to her.
It was a portrait of the strangest, most unlikely of friendships that Elphaba had ever possessed. Whichever way you looked at it, you never quite understood what you were seeing.
As Elphaba began to climb the outer stairs to the dining hall, she was greeted by Nanny and Nessarose, who were just heading out of the doors.
"There you are!" cried Nessa. "We were looking for you over an hour ago. What's been keeping you?"
"Forgive me for that," said Elphaba tersely. "I was summoned to the office of our illustrious Madame Head for a semi-hostile interrogation. It was quite unexpected, or I'd have kindly informed you to eat your sandwiches without me."
"Prickles and thorns already, and it's only one o'clock," Nessa sighed. "Give her the apple, Nanny, before she decides to eat us both. I'd guessed you'd have skipped lunch by now."
"No," said Elphaba, halting Nanny before she pulled the fruit out of her satchel. "Thank you for thinking of me, but I'm not all that hungry at the moment."
"Are you ever?" her sister replied while casually observing Elphaba's lanky figure. "I'm hardly surprised. What did Morrible want with you, anyway? Something far from pleasant, I'd gather."
"More so than you can imagine. Have you seen Glinda?"
"We're meeting her at the fountain near the library," Nanny spoke up. "She said she was going there to study after classes this morning. A good girl, that Glinda."
Elphaba gaped at them both. "Again?"
Nessa gave her a questioning look. "Academic accomplishment—the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom. This is a place of learning, Elphaba, or have you completely forgotten?"
But Elphaba was already headed in the direction of the library, and chose to ignore the comment. "Morrible's been asking questions about her… things I had no knowledge of or knew very little about. I have to wonder what she's been studying all of this time if she's been doing so poorly in all of her classes."
"You should start minding what she reads, dear," said Nanny pointedly. "Chances are she's gotten into the sex books and wants to read the filth in secret."
"Nanny, there are no 'sex books' in a campus library, or not the kind that Glinda would find arousing," said Nessa. "At least I don't think she would find them arousing, although—"
"Glinda!" Elphaba had all but shouted as she caught sight of her roommate stepping outside of the library doors. Glinda had to stop for a moment, briefly looking hesitant, but her eyes lit up the minute she saw them.
"Hello everyone," she said in a rush as she clutched her book-bag to her chest. "I'm sorry- I must have lost track of the time. Have you been waiting long?"
"Not at all," said Nessa cheerfully. "We were just discussing your new adoration with the campus library, actually."
"Keeping out of the adult sections, right Glinda dear?" said Nanny.
"Elphie's concerned that you've adopted the place," Nessa continued. "Apparently you've infiltrated her den of brooding and iniquity."
"Oh, have I?" Glinda laughed nervously, awkwardly. "Yes—yes I suppose I have. I'm… well, I'm a little behind in some of my classes..."
"Well it's nice to know I'm not the only one," Nessa sighed. "Some of the professors here can be so demanding; it's a wonder we're able to get anything done at all. And don't look to Elphaba for any sympathy, either. She seems to think that your increased efforts to learn are nothing but evil."
Glinda suddenly turned to Elphaba like she had just been struck across the face. "Why would you say that?"
Elphaba frowned. "I didn't—"
"Nessarose! Elphaba," cried a voice behind them. The group turned to see Milla approaching with one of her companions, a shy first year that looked terrified to be standing in the company of either of the Thropp sisters. "How lucky to find you here! I'm not sure if you've heard, but the boys sent us an informal invite to the reading at Fellian Hall tonight. It's supposed to be wonderful! Lady Talmage will be favoring us with a selection from her sonnets—you can just imagine how excited Tibbett and Crope are. Can we count on you coming?"
"Thank you," Nessa replied. "We'd be delighted."
"Oh… hello, Glinda," said Milla awkwardly as she finally noticed her standing behind Elphaba. "Were you… did you want to join us at the reading tonight?"
Glinda couldn't look at her. "Thank you, Milla, but I'm afraid I can't tonight."
Elphaba could scarcely believe it. Milla had come all this way to extend the invitation to both her and Nessarose, and yet she'd all but insulted Glinda with a back-handed offer she'd never intended to give. By the Unnamed God, was the whole world going insane?
"Oh come on Glinda, you should reconsider," said Nessa earnestly. "Too much studying isn't good for the soul- we all need a little distraction from time to time. Come with us! I'll even make sure that Elphie is on her best behavior tonight."
Glinda faltered. "I…"
"Milla!" cried Shenshen from an even further distance off. "Quit blathering already and bring them over! The boys are waiting for us by the canal!"
"I hope it's wine and Winkies this afternoon," said Milla conspiratorially to Elphaba. She grabbed her friend's hand again and was even bold enough to wrap an arm around Nessarose. "Come on, then, ladies. We mustn't keep them waiting!"
They quickly turned up the path towards the Shiz gate with Nanny following, uttering a lot of sighs and complaints in their wake.
Elphaba turned to Glinda with a raised eyebrow, hoping that her blonde companion might accept the invitation to join them. The look that Glinda returned was sorrowful, but she smiled at her warmly all the same.
"You go on ahead, Elphie," said Glinda, taking a few steps backward. "We can talk later if you want, but I really should be—"
Elphaba quickly reached forward to catch her as Glinda accidentally stumbled over a hard incline in the pavement. She grasped Glinda's hand and swiftly pulled her close, but not before she caught sight of a trail of mismatched bruises that disappeared up and under her sleeve.
Elphaba gave a start. Before she fully realized what she was doing, she pulled Glinda's sleeve back to reveal the full extent of the damage. Before her, in perfect detail, were large purple and yellowish welts that vaguely resembled finger marks. Glinda shrunk back from the fierceness of Elphaba's gaze, even though she made no attempt to withdraw her hand from her grasp. Their eyes met at that moment, and for the first time in her life, Elphaba was overwhelmed with an emotion that she couldn't possibly name.
"Elphie…" Glinda whispered, clenching her hand tightly within hers.
"Elphaba, we're waiting!" yelled Nessa, who stood a far distance off with Nanny at her side.
The moment was broken. Glinda quickly withdrew her hand and tucked a blonde curl behind her ear before muttering a quiet apology. She fled before Elphaba could say anything further, though Elphaba had no earthly idea where she could even begin.
Of all of the revelations about her roommate that she'd learned that day, this was undoubtedly, undisputedly, the very worst of any of them.
When Nessarose, Nanny, and Elphaba arrived at Fellian Hall that evening, Elphaba had already managed to work herself up into an even fiercer, more unforgiving temper than she was in earlier that afternoon. She'd greeted Nanny and Nessa outside of their rooms with a sharp glare, and failed to humor Nessa's moral deliberations with so much as a petty, blasphemous remark. This seemed to irritate Nessarose more than ever, curiously enough, as she wasn't quite used to being fully ignored by her sister. Elphaba couldn't pretend to care, however, so they'd walked to the building in stony silence with only Nanny offering the occasional, outrageous observation. This was the last place Elphaba wanted to be tonight, but there were questions that needed answering, and a certain love-sick Munchkinlander was going to be facing the brunt of them.
The whole situation was simply infuriating. She'd had all evening to think about Glinda and the desperate, pleading look her roommate had given her when she'd noticed the telltale signs of physical abuse along her arm. Thoughts of where or how it had happened turned her stomach, never mind the most pressing question of who had been responsible. There was just so damn much she didn't know… so much that Glinda was struggling to keep from everyone. Elphaba had seen the signs of bruises before; why hadn't she said anything then?
If Glinda had been suffering these cruelties for a long while, it could explain any number of the symptoms of her friend's current despondency. Had someone been firm with her? The jilted lover that Morrible hinted of? The thought angered her, but for conflicting reasons. It was possible that the bruising could have been self-inflicted, of course, but the thought of that disturbed her even more.
Of one thing she was certain of, though: Boq had a lot to answer for.
They stepped into the foyer with a crowd of boys from Three Queens, and Elphaba had the temerity to snarl at a Glikkun who accidentally bumped into her shoulder. She smiled in small satisfaction at seeing him shrink back in terror, but that faded soon enough when she caught sight of her friends gathered near a tall display in the center of the room.
"Well praise to the Unnamed God and all of his colorful creations; the Thropp sisters have arrived," said Avaric with a flourish.
"Good evening, Master Avaric," said Nessa curtly. "You're looking every bit the sinner as usual."
He laughed cheerfully at her appraisal; almost even flirtatiously. "Saints and sinners, Miss Nessarose- they're the perfect compliment to each other, don't you think? After all, you can't have one without the other."
"Indeed," she said evenly. "Would you excuse me for a moment? I'm in need of some refreshment."
"By all means," he said with a bow as Nanny escorted her in the direction of the refreshment table. "And Elphie dearest, what a pleasure to see you. You're looking positively viridian this evening." He turned to his companion and gently shoved him forward. "You remember Master Fiyero, of course? The Winkie antler magnet and Crope's latest darling. I'm sure you haven't forgotten our beloved Miss Elphaba, old chap. You'd have to be blind not to, or possibly deaf, and even then…"
"Hello again, Miss Elphaba," said Fiyero warmly, moving away from Avaric. "It's always a pleasure to see you. How—"
"Charmed," she said brusquely before pushing past the pair of them. She'd spotted Boq standing just behind Fiyero, engaged with the rest of the group in conversation and totally oblivious to her presence.
She grabbed a hold of his arm and pulled him around to face her, causing him to spill what little of his beverage remained in his glass.
"Hey!" he yelled as wine dribbled over his shoes. "What are you—?"
"We need to talk," she said sharply. "Now."
Elphaba began to drag him away in spite of his continued protestations while Crope and Tibbett made taunting noises as if to imply that Boq was in trouble. The girls and their Amas simply stared at them both, eyebrows raised, not quite sure what Elphaba was intending to do with him.
"Would you knock it off, Elphie?" he said, managing to wrench his arm out of her grasp. "There's no need to tear my arm off! You're stretching my coat!"
"Don't start giving me any ideas," she hissed, turning on him with a look that could have melted ice. "You're damn well lucky I don't tear more than just your arm off."
Fiyero awkwardly cleared his throat, still standing beside them. Avaric whistled and grabbed the Winkie Prince's arm, pulling him out of the line of fire. "This way, dear fellow," said Avaric with a nod. "Let's leave the lovers to their quarrel and find some refreshments of our own. That redhead over in the corner is looking particularly scrumptious, wouldn't you agree?"
Elphaba continued to glare scornfully at Boq, who could only stare back at her with a look of pure disbelief. She turned and made her way out into the hall without looking behind her, fully expecting him to follow. There was an empty coat room up ahead, and she didn't fancy talking with him where inquisitive ears could get their fill of the conversation. They headed around the corner and into the room, where Elphaba promptly shut the door after Boq followed her inside. He looked as if he was about to voice his concerns over the inappropriateness of their meeting like this, but he could obviously sense that Elphaba was in no mood to fuss over propriety at present.
"Well?" he said. "Would you care to explain why you've just embarrassed us in front of all of our friends?"
"Not until you tell me just what in the hell has been going on between you and my roommate," she said, fuming. "And please don't insult my intelligence by saying you have no idea what I'm talking about."
He gave a short, humorless laugh. "Oh, is that what you dragged me in here for? Very well then, permit me to enlighten you. There is nothing going on between Glinda and me. Nothing whatsoever. Not a word. Not a smile. Not even a friendly glance. It's been weeks since we've spoken to one another, and our last meeting required fourteen stitches along my hand an arm. Now, is that all, or did you have something else you wished to discuss?"
"Clearly she bruised your ego more than your arm," Elphaba sneered, "and I've heard the story plenty of times already. I really should compliment you on all of the dramatic little embellishments that were clearly added to make her appear shrill and insane. Maybe you should give up on farming and take to writing fictitious nonsense instead."
"I didn't say a word about the incident to anyone," he said, offended. "I didn't need to. There were plenty of people there to witness it, and I can't very well stop the gossiping tongues of others. And Glinda's reputation isn't the only one that's suffered here. I'm sure you're aware of the damage that's been done to my reputation as a gentleman. The idea of me grasping at a helpless young woman with some rakish design to harm her? It's obscene."
"Scandal-mongering and foolish rumors have never held the slightest sway over my reasoning," she said. "The harm I speak of is exclusively physical in nature."
"Harm?" he asked. "What harm? What are you talking about?"
"There were dark bruises all up her arm, Boq. Fresh bruises. I saw them myself this afternoon."
Boq looked horror-stricken. "What?"
"Bruises—in the shape of finger marks," she continued. "Is that definitive enough for you, or do you suppose they magicked out of nowhere?"
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly unsettled. "Merciful hell… do you know how it happened?"
"I have no clue. Considering your most recent episode in the café, however, I thought you might have a better idea."
"Now wait just a minute," he said, taking a step back. "You can't possibly think I had anything to do with it, Elphaba."
"What am I to know?" she said, arms folded. "As far as I'm aware, you're the only idiot who's been privileged enough to get near that supple skin of hers, and you've had plenty of opportunities to do it."
"Elphaba," he said firmly, "I swear to you by all that is holy and unholy alike that I have never so much as laid a finger on her in any way that could have been harmful. The fact that you could accuse me of something so vile makes me question just what kind of an opinion you have of me!"
"I haven't accused you of anything. I'm merely stating facts. You're her fondest admirer; one would think you'd have some idea of who was doing this, given that Briscoe Hall is just teeming with horny bastards who'd love nothing more than to have their way with her."
"Don't," he said in a disgusted voice. "I don't like what you're implying. If Glinda's been seeing another man, then I'm the last person to know about it. And why should I? It's not something she would ever confide in me. We're not exactly dating. So if she's taken up with some rakish brute elsewhere… well, then it was clearly none of my business."
"Really," she said sarcastically. "So feeling your way up her blouse at Lake Chorge isn't a qualification for some kind of confidence?"
"Lurline above, Elphaba, just what in the hell do you want from me?" he said angrily, now raising his voice. "She won't talk to me. Can you understand that? Not to me, not to anyone! I've made every attempt I can think of to see her, even in spite of her wounding me. Even in spite of everything! All I wanted was to help her, Elphaba, but she doesn't want it. She doesn't want me. Whatever she might have felt for me, if she ever felt anything—well, that's over and done with. Probably for good. So tell me, dear Elphie, what do you want me to do? Force myself on her until I drive her mad and she shoves me down a stairwell? No, I think not. I may be a love-sick little fool, but I do have my pride."
"Oh, is that what you'd call it?" Elphaba snarled, suddenly towering over him. "Pride? What a fair word for an imbecile who wiles away the evening hours in pear trees, leering at half-dressed college girls and following them around like a love-starved pet."
"That was different," he said defensively. "I may have been annoying, but I wasn't hurting her."
"So what do you call snubbing her this evening? What of this whole campaign to ostracize her from her friends? Do you think you're doing her a favor by it?"
"I told you before that I had nothing to do with that. Rumors come and go whether we like it or not; you should know that better than anyone. Besides, Glinda has made herself an outcast, Elphie. She abandoned her friends long before we abandoned her. So if I can't do anything else for her, and believe you me, I've tried—the least I can do is respect her wishes to be left alone."
Elphaba was furious. Boq was giving up, just like that. For all his professions of vehement love and adoration for her roommate, even he was turning his back on her.
"You are a fool," she whispered, unable to keep the contempt from dripping out of her voice.
"And you're a coward," he bit back.
The words caught Elphaba off-guard, but only for a split-second. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," he said, refusing to let Elphaba intimidate him. "For all of your hooming and hawing over how badly everyone's been treating Glinda, it's amazing how quickly you are to excuse yourself from any of the blame. The one person—the only person that she even acknowledges anymore is you, and you're too much of a damned coward to do anything about it."
Elphaba arched an eyebrow. "And just what in the name of Oz does that mean? Have I ignored her? Am I distancing myself from her like the rest of you?"
"Oh spare me," he countered. "You've abandoned every one of us. Distance isn't always physical, you know. There's also the emotional kind that you seem to excel at; hell, you've even perfected it! Just admit it, Elphaba—you're as frustrated as the rest of us, and instead of actually doing something about it, you're projecting all of your failures on everyone else. Me especially. You're terrified of how much you care about her, and the kind of personal sacrifice to your emotional seclusion that love really requires. You're her Oz-be-damned friend, Elphie, you should start acting like one."
Elphaba stiffened. "I'm not—"
"What?" he said, cutting her off. "Not as qualified as the rest of us? Not human enough to sit down with her and ask her what's really wrong? I know you, Miss Elphie, and I know how clever you are at inventing excuses for putting space between you and those you care about. You've gotten far too comfortable hiding under that green skin of yours, and the useless insecurities you insist on keeping sound even more contrived than they did three months ago."
"Contrived?" said Elphaba hotly. "Invented? Do you really think that I paint myself this hideous shade of green because I get a perverse satisfaction out of it? That I enjoy the abuses the world continually thrusts upon me—that I relish being physically incompatible with everyone?"
"No" he replied frankly. "I think you've grown so used to it that it's all that you care to know. Your detachment has become a comfort—a security even, and you're too afraid to step out of it. So call me whatever you want, or beat me to a bloody pulp, but that won't change the fact that when it comes to opening up to another human being, you're more of a spineless coward than all of Shiz put together."
Elphaba was silent. She couldn't think of how to respond to him; it was one of the first times in her life that she had been completely rendered speechless.
The sound of faint applause filtered in through the walls, indicating that the program had already begun. Boq inhaled deeply and took his glasses off to better rub the bridge of his nose.
"You know how I feel about her, Elphie," he said more evenly, "and you know that I would do anything that I could to help. But I'm not the one she needs right now, and I'm not going to let you use me as an excuse to care about her anymore. You're going to have to learn how to do that yourself."
He slipped his glasses back on and slowly walked past her towards the door, though Elphaba remained stock-still in the center of the room.
"She adores you, you know," he said quietly, though he purposefully kept his back to her. "You mean more to her than all of those ruffled idiots combined. Don't ignore that, Elphie, and don't underestimate your worth to us all. She has to reach out to someone, and of everyone, I'd want it to be you."
He opened the door and walked out, leaving Elphaba to contemplate all that had passed between them. She wanted to argue with him; to bring him back in here and tell him why every single thing he'd said was wrong. But if there was one thing that Elphaba was good at, and she fancied that she was good at several things, it was her ability to admit when she was defeated.
And tonight was unquestionably a painful, bitter defeat.
The dark, stretching hours of the evening cast an eerie silence over the empty corridors of Crage Hall, though the night was filled with shifting moans and ghostly whisperings on the wind. For Glinda, the silence was both welcoming and dreadful; a place that existed somewhere in the muddled in-between.
These days, it was the only place she knew.
A powerful breeze rattled the loose shutters on the window, promptly disturbing her from her half-dreaming. She looked up from her book in a panic, half expecting to find the ghastly shadows of familiar nightmares waiting outside of her window. But the night was empty, and betrayed nothing of its secrets. The only thing she could see was her reflection staring back at her, faintly illuminated by the light of the waning fire.
Glinda let out a quivering breath and leaned back against the headboard of her bed. It was the third or fourth time she'd nearly dozed off within the last half hour, and she finally had to concede that it was impossible to concentrate anymore. Her perpetual exhaustion made studying difficult, though she had to admit that studying had never been one of her greater virtues. Disturbed as she was, Glinda couldn't commit herself entirely to a life of reading with the same zealous passion as her roommate. The problem was that it was still early, and Elphie wouldn't be back for another three hours at least. She stared back down at the book in her lap, idly running a pale hand over the scrawling text. She could read the words well enough, but comprehension had vanished long ago with the setting sun.
Glinda turned and opened her night-stand drawer, reaching into the back to extricate a small container of pills. Shaking two out of the bottle, she swallowed them down with the last of her water, hoping the caffeinated supplements would help. She knew that she didn't have the strength to keep fighting off her fatigue in bed, however, so she closed the book and set it aside before rising stiffly up from the mattress.
The clock on her nightstand struck eight o'clock. She pressed her fingers into the back of her neck and massaged the soreness there, silently resolving to do what she could to stay awake. She could take a walk, perhaps, or head to the dining hall for a bite of something to eat. But food was undesirable, as well as the idea of leaving the room. In the end, she resolved on taking her bath a bit early, feeling it would be the best way to liven her spirits. Grabbing two towels from the linen basket, she turned to lock the front door, then headed into the adjoining washroom.
The door slowly creaked open as Glinda stepped into the musty darkness. She reached and turned up the gaslights, flooding the room with soft white light. It illuminated the brass fixtures and cast-iron bathtub in the corner, as well as the bottles and jars on the vanity she shared with Elphaba. After placing her towels on the rack beside the door, she moved over to the large basin and started the water running.
It had to be cold; that wasn't even a question. If it were warm, it would make her drowsy, and Glinda couldn't afford to fall asleep. An icy stream poured out of the faucet, and she held her wrist underneath it so that she could better adjust the temperature of the water. Once satisfied that it was to a bearable degree, she stood and began to remove her garments, shivering in reflexive anticipation of the water's chill. The satin slid down to the floor, pooling just around her feet. She picked her clothing up and folded it neatly over the chair near the vanity, careful not to disturb any of Elphaba's personal effects.
Glinda then stepped into the tub and gasped when the water made contact with her skin. This was the part she hated, but nevertheless endured. Gritting her teeth together, she stuck her other foot in and lowered herself down in the water, silently cringing as she did so. It swirled around her hunched and shivering figure, shocking her nerves and mind back into responsiveness. Taking quick shallow breaths, she wrapped her arms around her knees and embraced the sting, watching the water rise inch by inch up her frame. It was calming and revitalizing, though it could never completely free her of the hollow ache that lingered in the pit of her stomach. Once she became more accustomed to the water's temperature, she leaned back and rested her head against the edge of the tub.
Glinda knew she mustn't close her eyes. It was too dangerous. Too reckless. But she allowed the sounds of the water to soothe her, carrying her mind and spirit to better places. She stared up at the ceiling and allowed her imagination to wander as she studied the strange silhouettes cast by the reflected glow of the gaslight. It was almost like watching a play of shadow-puppets. Large heads and wide mouths would form and reform, looking both sinister and comical all at once. Her neck sunk lower and lower, until even her ears were dipped just below the water's surface.
In the indistinct gush of rushing water, she could hear her own heartbeat loud and steady, echoing throughout the corridors of her mind. It was proof, if only the weakest of proof, that Glinda was still alive.
Or proof that she might have been human.
What a pity, she thought, that the soul doesn't make a similar sound. How reassuring that would be—how wonderful to know that the Other part of you was as real and tangible as a slowly beating heart.
But perhaps that was the tragedy, or the horror, of what she felt. What if the soul, the Other, was a hideous thing? If it were real, or tangible, couldn't it destroy what was the better part?
The muffled sound of a child's laughter sounded in her ears, though they were still submerged beneath the water. At first she thought she might have simply imagined it, until it became a more pronounced, muffled shrieking. When she opened her eyes— but when had she closed them?—the bright lights of the room flooded her vision…
…As well as the black, mangled hands that reached down and grabbed her throat before pushing her back below the water's surface.
The scream that sounded in Glinda's throat turned to a drowned shriek as water rushed into her lungs. She twisted and struggled frantically against the hands about her throat, clawing desperately at her neck and the sides of the tub.
In the flash of churning water, she could scarcely make out the dark image of an indistinct shape hovering over her, though pain was blinding her vision. Her knees and feet banged against the sides of the tub as she thrashed against the crushing hands with every last ounce of strength in her body. The water around her was warm now, and quickly getting hot. The tap was pouring scalding water; Glinda could feel it near her feet.
Her eyes were blurring. Her fingers couldn't free herself from the sinister hands at her neck. She pleaded to God and Lurline above that they would save her, but the prayers were lost in the choking water that burned deep in her throat.
Then, as suddenly as they had taken hold of her, she felt the hands release.
Glinda quickly pushed herself up to the surface with a strangled gasp; choking and coughing as air flooded painfully back into her lungs. She clambered out of the bathtub without a second thought, desperate to be free of the heat and the hands that had nearly drowned her. She stumbled onto the floor, still gasping up lungfuls of water, and struggled to get to her hands and knees.
Scorching water was still pouring out of the faucet and over the sides of the tub. With a choked cry, she reached over to shut it off, clumsily working the valves with both hands. She screamed in pain and frustration as the metal burned her, but her efforts were all in vain. The water wouldn't turn off; it continued to surge under the high, heated pressure.
The gaslights in the room flickered and hummed around her, burning low and flaring to brilliance in quick, erratic succession. She cried out in a deranged panic, grabbing fistfuls of hair in her hands as she watched the room spin from darkness to light and light to darkness.
"Get away from me!" she screamed, pressing her palms tightly against her temples. "You can't do this! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"
But the Other didn't seem to hear.
Glinda looked hysterically around the room. The door. She had to get to the door.
She slipped and slid over the wet ground, crawling frantically towards the washroom entry as it appeared in and out of her vision. She ignored the pain in her hands and wrists, believing that salvation lay just ahead if she could only reach it. Closer... closer...
The door quickly rose up before her, and she pressed herself against its frame with a soft prayer of thanks. Glinda then reached the handle with stiff and shaking fingers, feeling it jerk when she went to turn it.
The door was locked.
She collapsed against it with a blood-curling shriek, and began pounding on it with her fists.
"HELP ME!" she screamed, forcing the handle again and again but failing to wrench it open. "Anyone, please! Please let me out!"
She pounded the door until her hands bled raw. Her screams rang out like the tortured cries of an animal, but still, no one could hear her.
Suddenly, and without warning, the lights finally sputtered out.
Glinda stood trembling in the darkness, feeling an all new surge of fear run through her. Her heart was thudding painfully within her breast. Her hands were shaking violently. She pressed her flesh against the door, more out of fear than instability.
The room was pitch black. She couldn't see anything around her. All she could hear was the sounds of the still running water over the quiet rasp of her own erratic breathing. She had to think. She had to reason with herself. Matches. There was a box of matches on the dressing table. They were only a few feet away. It was just a matter of divining her way there in the darkness.
All she had to do was move forward.
She took a deep, uncertain breath and reached out with a shaking hand. Slowly, inch by inch, she crept forward in the general direction of the vanity, feeling her breathing grow heavier with each and every step. It felt as if she were walking in eternal darkness; like there was nothing real to hold or feel around her. In many ways, it was even more terrifying than the hands had been—the perpetual fear of the unknown.
There was a moment of panic when her fingers made contact with a hard surface. To her relief, she discovered that it was the corner of the dressing table, and that the matches were close at hand.
She slid her hands in every direction, occasionally knocking over a bottle or finding a small ribbon she'd use as a hair-tie. She tried to be calm, forcing herself to move slowly lest she accidentally pass over it. After what seemed an eternity, the rough paper surface of the matchbox brushed against the corner of her fingers. She snatched it up and fumbled to grasp one of the sticks inside, but her movements were maddeningly clumsy. She struck one against the granulated strip, but the head broke off at the top. She reached for another and tried again, but her damp fingers had spoiled the flint. Damn her hands. Why couldn't she stop shaking?
She tried a third one.
The small flame sparked to life in the surrounding blackness, wrapping her trembling figure in a dim orange glow. She breathed a short sigh of relief, but the comfort, unfortunately, was only fleeting.
As Glinda stood there, trembling in the center of the room, she realized with sickening clarity that the heavy breathing she could hear was no longer her own.
Her heart slowed to a steady thrum. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. Still holding the burning match between her fingers, she allowed herself this moment of quiet, dreaded calm before facing what was most assuredly her death.
Slowly… slowly …she turned around.
Pale light gave form to the charred and ruined face behind her, glinting malevolently off of cracked skin and gnashing, yellowed teeth. Black, mangled hands reached towards her, forming out of the darkness to pull her into an embrace.
The flame extinguished. The scream never rose past her throat. And at that moment, all faded to black, and Glinda knew no more.