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She didn’t mean to fixate upon it.
She received the first wave of mail a week after the wizard left. Stacks upon stacks of letters on her desk. Her assistant said it was from the Ozians thanking her for her actions. She smiled and waved her away as she sat at her desk.
Thinking back now, she should’ve told her to throw the entire stack away.
You don’t deserve this position.
That’s definitely untrue. She brought the city together through her speeches, she was the hope the citizens needed to pull through. Spreading positivity is important. It’s confusifying why someone would think that when objectively she did what no one could.
She was walking around the emerald city when she saw it. Something peculiar in the back of an alleyway.
“Stop! Get away—”
She turned the corner and saw a man standing over a tiny bear in a top hat. People were walking down the alleyway, sticking to the sides to avoid bumping into the two in the middle. The man was holding a whip in his left hand ready to strike.
A young girl slammed open the back door of the shop.
“Do not hurt it!” She ran towards the two and reached her arms out to grab the bear.
The man swung anyway. A strong twhip rang across the alley as the girl yelped and pulled her arm back to hug herself. The bear lets out a small whimper. The people around continue walking as usual.
Glinda flinches at the sound. I should do something. But she doesn’t move. She stays frozen on the spot, peeking over the corner. I need to say something—
“You youngsters need to learn that it’s disgusting to let them speak,” the man frowns. The girl’s face twitches and crouches to hug the bear to her chest.
“It is none of your business what I do, you better leave before I call the authorities.” The girl spits. A nasty red blooms on her arm but the girl stands her ground against the man who towers over her.
The man stares back in silence, as if contemplating whether or not to strike again. “The authorities will gladly take the thing away,” he gruffs. “Try calling them.”
The girl bites her lip and scrunches her nose. She scoffs but turns away, in defeat, as if what he said was true.
It’s not though. The guards will never do that now. Glinda has made sure of that. She isn’t sure why the girl walks away slouching, like she knows she was in the wrong. Ozians have accepted animals now, animals walk around freely in the city. A pit forms in her stomach, did something happen that I don’t know of?
Her breath catches when she sees the man turn in her direction. She turns away quickly. There’s something stuck in her throat. Her exhales are quick as she struts back to the palace. Though she can’t quite shake off the feeling that she just failed a test.
You’re too happy living in ignorance.
A new bill came in that morning. Animals can have their own carriages in the trains.
Her assistant stood on the side as she read it through. Newly designed carriage that is fit to hold animals of any size, 2 new cabins connected to the back of the train.
“Looks good, but I think we can change it to let the small animals sit with the Ozians whereas the larger ones stay in the carriage,” she says, “It would be more efficient.”
She nearly misses the look on her assistant's face when she turns to her, but the slight frown in her eyebrows was unmistakable. Her lips are stamped in a straight line. The assistant takes a second before she responds.
“Yes, Miss Glinda. That sounds nice, however maybe we should let the citizens vote on that?”
Glinda squints her eyes and stares back at her. The assistant starts darting her eyes around the room.
“—I mean that, um, it’s still fairly new to the Ozians, I doubt it would go over well to mix everyone together.”
What.
Glinda lies back on her spinning chair. This would be the perfect way to get to know the animals more, no? They should be jumping in gratitution for the opportunity to interact. Suddenly, the image of the alleyway pops into her brain.
Do the Ozians still hate animals? Animals have already been legalized in Oz, yet that doesn’t seem to have increased the amount of animals on the streets. She read that in a report from a few days ago. Does she need to do more? Maybe she needs to do another speech, they must’ve forgotten the last one.
Was Elphie not enough?
She nearly jumps in her seat at that last thought. A chill crawls down her spine. The words on the parchment blur. The hair on her neck rises unpleasantly.
She hasn’t thought about her since her— since she left. Something stirs in her stomach. She can’t do this right now. Everything around her is hyper focused. She can feel the rough paper under her fingertips, she can smell a slight char in the air from the candle on her desk, she can hear the shallow exhales of her assistant beside her.
“—Miss Glinda?”
She snaps back into the room and blinks.
“How about we continue this tomorrow?” She gives a practiced grin to her. “I’ll think about it.”
The assistant opens her mouth but closes it a second later.
She must look manic, her eyes are a little too wide and the grin a little too big, but the assistant seems to take the hint and bows to leave. The door closes quietly. Her face drops and she takes a breath that doesn’t cooperate.
A hot red burn settles in her stomach, sinks into her guts.
In the silence of the room, she allows herself to confront one truth.
She was nothing without Elphaba, and she’s nothing now.
She would still be here if not for you.
The crowd was cheering from below. Applause rang through her ears as she stepped onto the podium.
This speech is important. She needs to ask them to respect animals. She needs to do this. She needs to do this. She needs to do this.
She repeats it like a mantra in her head as the assistants adjust the mic for her. A slight tremble attacks her fingers as she curls it into her palm.
“Hello fellow Ozians!” She announces. “Thank you for meeting at such short notice!”
Someone shouts we love you glinda! in the crowd.
“As you all have seen, we are looking to improve the connection between the Emerald city and the outer lands.” She smiles as she scans the crowd. They’re all wearing varying degrees of smiles themselves.
“And we are looking to integrate more animal friendly infrastructure into the city!” She pauses for applause.
A loud cough sounds from the audience instead. She steals a glance and sees hardened stares and whispered words among them. Annoyance spikes through her veins so strong she flinches. It steals her breath instantly.
It’s nothing. She shuts her eyes to compose herself.
Faking a cough, she continues.
“To launch this, we have decided to add mixed carriages to trains—”
“—she’s becoming just like the wicked witch!”
She freezes.
She doesn’t even get to see the person who yelled as they were dragged off by guards. The remaining crowd turns silent, all eyes on her.
The tremble attacks her entire body. Her assistant places a hand on her spine. She straightens up.
“I—you misunderstood me,” what is she doing, “what I meant was mixed meals! Meals that include berries from the forests and authentic herbs from the outsides,” what is she saying. “Of course, how could I forget our chefs in town are launching this new menu featuring—”
It didn’t matter what she said. The crowd ate up every word. Indulges the ones they like and spits out the ones they didn’t.
She doesn’t remember what said afterwards, surely nothing of weight. She never says anything that truly matters. Is this where happiness lies? In fields of wisps and tendrils that cut but never hurt. In empty words and soft shoulders.
She never sticks out because she’s terrified. Terrified of what? The wizard is gone, Madame Morrible is away, her people support her. Fear should not be hitting like punches, leaving bruises that can’t fade. She didn’t do anything scandalocious, she did what she had to do.
A sweet sickly substance swarms in her mouth. Something glided, something golden, something rotten. She swallows. It avoids her, sinking into her gums, into the roots. Her tongue chases it, tries to dissolve it, but the acrid foul filth merges with her nerves. Slides into every tooth, crawls and drags itself around, leaving blisters.
It tastes like guilt.
You killed her.
She’s losing them. The people looked to her for hope. Now, she doubts she inspires anything other than exasperation.
It happens when she least expects it.
The morning light leaks through her curtains, showering her in pink. She pushes them open, letting the light fully in. Turning around, a ray of green hits her face.
Logically, she knows the light reflected from her vase in the corner.
Emotionally, her brain can only see one face.
It knocks her off her feet. Her lungs seize, shallow inhales claw through her esophagus. The world tilts an inch to the left, her chest heaves and something is pressing down and suffocating her.
If only you did something earlier, this would’ve never happened.
She sucks in a breath that never goes through. Her diaphragm contracts, her ribs collapse in empty space. A loud ringing in her ears accompanies the continuous spasming of her heart.
Her feet touch on something wet. Why is the floor wet?
Distantly, she realises she’s on the floor. She feels her fingernails digging into her palm, it’s grounding, she latches onto that and pushes harder.
You’re okay, you’re in your room, you’re 24, you’re safe.
That should work, that was what she taught her. Instead, a sentence floats in her mind, she died alone because of you.
Her heart stops for a second, caught mid exhale. Something claws at her chest. Her stomach flips. She throws her arms around herself.
You only found the courage after she died, after you killed her. You stood aside as she died.
How did Elphie do this? She can’t even handle a few people wearing worn and disappointed sighs. Elphie should have been here instead of her. She would know what to do. She would be happy. She’s dead.
She tastes something slimy on her lips. Reaching out, her hand pulls away from her face, wet and heavy. Why is she here? In this palace, in this position. What is she doing?
Elphie should’ve known better than to befriend her. She robs dreams from others and doesn’t even enjoy the happiness that brings. She ruins people to get a gift she doesn’t want. How can she stay here when Elphie deserved this so much more.
She swallows. The rot in her mouth follows down into her stomach. It scratches and wails. It must be alive, how it scars her body. How it leaves traces she can never wash away. It’s disgusting, she feels bile rise up.
Shutting her eyes hard and opening it, she steals oxygen from the air. She gags but nothing comes out.
A thought sinks in, she’s alone and she’s filthy. Do not taint anyone else. Focus.
That clears her mind, sets it in stone. The room becomes unclouded.
She felt weird once, sitting on the wizard’s seat. The assistants have helped her pinkify the room while she was gone. Any record of the wizard was wiped clean from the room, but she can sometimes still feel his presence looming over her as she sits at the desk.
Now, she understands her place. She knows what has to be done. If not for her, then for Elphie. The least she can do is achieve the dream for her. She should rip herself apart, bleed on stage to right her wrongs. Her insides are hollowed out, nothing but decay and mold.
She knows she doesn’t deserve forgiveness, but this feels like the start of penance.
Love, Glinda.