heart of glass

Vivian peered out of the window into the darkness below, but even in the dead of night they could view crimson pooling around the girl’s body. Someone else’s problem to discover come daylight. Someone. They lingered for a moment longer, hand creeping to their chest. The beating felt steady, strong. The same could not be said for Leigh Flint. 

There was a heart there once. Vivian gasped as she heard her own voice in the confines of her mind once more. Had Marceaux vanished once more, leaving but only his body? She clutched at her chest, feeling flickers of her own identity once more despite remaining in this tall, towering body. I had a heart here once, she thought. Her eyes flickered as they looked down upon the mangled body, and for a fleeting moment, Vivian thought she would feel remorse—a deep, irrevocable sadness for plucking a life from this Earth as if she were a god. She couldn’t let Adrian die, all those months before, because she thought herself incapable of murder. That she would feel an unbearable remorse. But she didn’t; no guilt nor overwhelming grief. 

No, there was never a heart there, beating lovingly in her chest. Only a vast emptiness, a lack where tenderness should have lived. She was brought into the world a monster, and this was her true nature, her destiny. It was then that Vivian Travers realized, as she peered down at the wreckage of the ill fated girl, that she felt nothing at all. And she never would. 

With a smirk curled onto Marceaux’s lips, Vivian left. 

Their heart rate calmed as their focus heightened, every inch of their body alert. Vivian scoffed at the witch’s pathetic pleads for safety, which fell on deaf ears. Another few moments passed as Leigh’s tears grew, spilling from her eyes in desperation. A weak, menial attempt at mercy which they would never grant. Marceaux liked to play with his food before he devoured, and so would they, too, because they were one. A whole, maddening, lethal essence stitched together like a snake with two heads.

“I know you won’t tell a soul,” Vivian added with a tinge of artificial sympathy, a false sense of security. “I know this, dove, because you’ll take it to the grave.” 

Without preamble, Vivian launched at the witch, grabbing her by the shirt and dragging her toward the stone-trimmed windows. The evening air met their nostrils, sharp and biting. They breathed in the air, letting it fill their lungs as the girl writhed in their grasp. Now, commanded Marceaux’s voice. 

“Goodnight, Leigh.” 

And then, Vivian pushed the witch through the window. 

.

Leigh barely had time to scream, she barely had time to think, she barely had time to beg for her life before her body was hitting the pavement below. They say you see a light when you die, that sometimes the entirety of your life flashes before your eyes. But for Leigh, a deep abyss of pure darkness is what she met.

The thing about time is, you never have enough of it. Leigh may have gone onto write editorials about modern fashion in Witch Weekly. Maybe she would have gone onto design her best friend’s wedding dress. Maybe she would have created her very own, for herself. Maybe she’d have been a well known figure in Junior Witches’ League, leading a pack of newcomers welcoming a change of tradition. Leigh had wanted to be one of them all along. At the very least, she’d succeeded in that.

Now that Leigh was gone, people could be the things they admired most about her. She preached loving big and loud. She taught kindness. Above all, she exemplified acceptance. If one person she had met along the way took this in stride, inspired by her, then it would have all been worth it.

Dolly Parton had said find out who you are and do it on purpose. Her last days on Earth had been lived as such. Dolly would be so proud. So would Aunt Jessie. 

For now, it was time to embark on her next epic adventure.

Vivian’s heart nearly plunged from her chest at the sound of a voice calling her name, not Marceaux. Her name. She looked up, frantically regarding the face of a witch who showed Vivian kindness days before despite not deserving even a fraction of it. Not you, she thought, pleading with reality as if the universe could undo this atrocious mistake. No, not you. 

“Get away from me,” barked a voice, deep and husky. 

Vivian blinked, frightened by her own outburst because it came not from the corners of her mind. It was as if Marceaux’s soul somehow bounded into hers, pushing Vivian through this moment, leading her down an inevitable path she knew she had to face. How could she be so careless, so thoughtless? Vivian cursed herself for these actions dripped in folly. 

She knows, said that gravely voice. This time, however, Vivian heard it only inside the confines of her own mind. She knows, it said again. Marceaux’s voice, as clear as her own conscious. Take care of it., he demanded. For months of molding into him physically, she finally, at long last, truly sensed him. Vivian no longer pretended to be him; she was Marceaux Travers—and as her first act, she had to deal with the problem at hand. 

Vivian arose from the ground, dark eyes boring into the witch with an unsettling ferocity. They darted no where else, fixed only on the girl with the power to unravel her. 

To unravel them.

.

Leigh had been faced with many days that left her confused and searching for answers, so often in primary, but Leigh had never faced a day where she was frozen still. Nothing could have braced Leigh for cold, bitter, reality. A reality her Aunt Jessie had kept her away from, tucked in a small Scottish cottage. Far away from the family that threatened to steal Leigh’s light away. She’d been saved many times by her Aunt and only wished her insightful words were here now to guide her through.

She did what she thought Jessie would say. Fight. Leigh could do that, by making a singular promise that would hopefully make all of this go away in a blink of an eye. “I won’t tell a single soul. Your secret is safe with me.” She hardly heard her own voice, choking out the words. As the towering man stalked forward and Leigh blinked once, twice, three times, tears welling up -- she realized this was not a nightmare she would so suddenly wake from. 

Leigh was going to live it. 

“Vivian,” Maybe if she called, her sister would listen.

Vivian practically tore Professor Slughorn to pieces. His incessant chatter, his unfortunate ability to prattle on endlessly, to waste her time. Time that she could not spare. The clock ticked mercilessly, each second threatening to expose this charade. The vial hung on a silver chain on her neck, her salvation only a swift movement away, but Vivian couldn’t simply drink Polyjuice in the presence of the potions master himself. No, he would surely snuff out her charade. And so she waited, letting the imbecile spew drivel unless she finally managed to unsuspiciously escape with only minutes to spare, if she were lucky. 

No sooner had she turned the corner did Vivian feel Marceaux’s body begin to betray her. Bones breaking, muscles tearing, her form shrinking into her own small frame. She crouched into a corner blanketed by darkness, fumbling for the vial as her fingers shifted, too. She looked half of both Travers siblings—a monster, writhing in pain. She whimpered, the voice sounding like her own, as she finally brought the vial to her lips and swallowed hard. Dark, bitter cherries met her lips. 

Soon enough, her body calmed, accepting Marceaux’s form. Vivian stayed huddled on the ground, catching her breath as her heart beat erratically.  

.

An intention was set at the beginning each day, or whenever Leigh chose to do her ritualistic yoga. Today’s intention: joyous, have a joyous day. It was how she’d approached everybody that Monday. Giving Professor Egg an apple and leaving Ella a note of affirmation that said ‘you rock my socks!’. It was how she was going to approach Vivian, until she came across a desperate display.

The steady drum of a racing heart rang in her ears, staying glued to a shadow of darkness, hidden away from the exposed moonlight that showcased the sight before Leigh’s dark eyes. She gulped, but even that hurt to do. She could only stay silent for so long. Her body betrayed her, a quaint whimper leaving her frame. Leigh had but one choice now. To step forward. Do it with purpose.

Leigh moved into the moon, blinking at the man on ground, voice cracking as she spoke the obvious into existence once and for all, “Vivian? Is that you?”

Dolly Parton once said find out who you are and do it on purpose. Life wasn’t turned to auto pilot anymore. Leigh felt in control, she felt fulfilled, she felt happy. Today she was off to make another grand thing happen for herself -- finally get herself a big sister. Vivian’s offer had hung in her mind for.. like, ever. And here she was, ready to accept it into her life. 

Another person who reminded her of a big sister was Mary. Leigh noted to owl her about the dancing lessons before bed tonight. Maybe see if she and Doc and Mary could finally all hang out together, too. Just another dream to chase and catch. She was now in the habit of making that happen.

.

Rosalind nodded, and whilst her smile was fake, she was glad for the distraction as she started towards Winbourne House. “I know just the place.”

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“We can start brainstorming a theme, then. There’s lots to do.” Rosalind could tell there was a second meaning behind Leigh’s words, but she didn’t dwell on them, offering a simple, “Thank you,” in return.

“Let’s see if we can find us a cuppa tea and then we can start brainstorming,” Leigh offered, hopeful and warm smile. There wasn’t much that could be said between them. At least Leigh couldn’t formulate the words, and felt the kind gestures were enough to make amends between the two JWL girls.

.

“All of the lates notices for volunteering opportunities will be posted soon. Welcome to the JWL, Leigh.”

Leigh was the happiest she could’ve been, which had her wondering, why in the world she couldn’t just changed her name to Happy? One day, maybe. It seemed as if patience had brought her everything she’d ever wanted. Everything was falling into place. Life was good. Leigh loved life entirely.

.

“I am. And I could use help. I have a lot of – unexpected things to take care of these days.” Of course, the JWL was her priority, but outwardly she had to make a show of caring about getting Gilbert’s affairs in order. “How are you with decorations?”

“Sounds right up my alley,” Leigh nodded confidently, have decorated the Three Broomsticks the best that she could all those months ago for her birthday party with Ella. “I’m here for you,” She didn’t mention Gilbert, or the absence of him. She knew nobody deserved to lose somebody and nobody deserved to die so young.

“I did.” Rosalind, obviously, still didn’t think Leigh Flint was Witches League potential. But there were bigger things for her to spend her time worrying about these days. She could play nice. “You’re pleased, I assume?”

“I’m super eager to help with anything, most of all. I heard you’re putting together the Winter Formal. If you need assistance, you can count on me. I’m especially good with sewing and a hot glue gun.”

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When Colleen recovered from a startle, her face went mellow at the girl’s comment. “Aw! What part caught your heart, babe? Wait – was it the ‘Superfoods to reduce anxiety’? Oh, or the ‘DIY winter coconut oil bath soak and Hogwarts bathrooms where you should try it’?”

“The bath soak!” Leigh almost squealed just at the mention of it. “I didn’t know such ingredients could make a bath so much better. I’m going to try it out soon. I just made it into JWL. It can be a celebratory thing.”

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“The Winter Formal is happening soon. Rosalind is in charge of events, but I want to make sure that everyone has the opportunity to make their mark on areas that interest them.”

“Hopefully I find my calling through volunteering. Anything I can do to help. I’ll see if Rosalind needs anything at all. I kinda know her. Wow, just, thank you again.”

.

“All members are eligible, no matter when they formally became members.” Leigh was a bit of an odd duck, but Emma knew for certain that she would never put a pig’s head on her bed.

“Great,” Leigh bit her bottom lip now, as to hide a smile. It was near impossible to, though. “Are there any events coming up soon? I’d love to help.”

“I’m sure it has.” After flicking the cigarette on the ground, Vivian left. 

When she ran into Rosalind, walking through the doorway, there was no way to avoid her. Leigh figured she shouldn’t avoid her, anyway, now a part of JWL herself. “Did you hear the news?” Is what she asked.