Madam Spellman one-shots

I can't do this anymore... (Pt5)

Zelda sits in the kitchen, smoking one of her too many cigarettes a day. Her eyes scan the Russian newspaper but her brain doesn't register the words that she's reading, too focused on something else. Too focused to even realize that she's holding the newspaper upside down.

She feels the water fill to the brim of her eyes, tears almost falling, and knows that she has allowed herself to be carried away to the time where her family was still whole and her life thrived with love and happiness, or at least as close as Zelda ever came to being utterly happy because the ginger wasn't ever completely happy.

Hilda is quietly preparing their lunch, knowing that her sister is no mood to talk. She hasn't been since she came home all those months ago, so she just keeps quiet and watches her sister suffer in solitude; as always.

She sees the tears welling up in her eyes, sees the empty stare with which her sister is staring down her newspaper, sees the ash at the end of the cigarette, which will surely kill her someday, grow bigger and bigger, almost falling off on its own but she doesn't say a word about it.

It's not as if her sister would listen to her.

Zelda's too tired to notice the secret glances her sister is sending her way, so she can't even snap at her; something she used to do every so often. She just sits there, breathing shallow and uneven to the point that she gets out of breath.

It feels wrong. Wrong that her sister just sits there, day in, day out and doesn't do a thing. Hilda can't put her head around the concept of a quiet Zelda, as she spent all her life being teased and snapped at by the ginger witch. Reality looks very different now. What she would give to have her old sister back, the one that is so full of life.

It worries her to say the least. She cares about Zelda, always has and always will but she truly doesn't know what to do. Not even when Zelda got burnt by the consuming flame of abuse and hatred Faustus turned out to be, did she see her sister this empty.

The ash of Zelda's cigarette is finally too much to carry for the poor thing and elegantly glides through the air until it lands on her black dress, making Zelda spring to life. It's as if someone finally pushed the button to a lifeless doll, making its machines heat up.

"For Satan's sake!" she spits and tries to brush the ash off without doing any permanent damage to her second favorite dress but it's too late. The ash has already burnt a small hole into the hem of it and Zelda's burning eyes land on Hilda.

"Don't just stand there! Do something useful for once and help me!" she snaps and Hilda doesn't mind the attitude. At least it's better than the nothingness that possesses her sister on most days. Hilda ushers over to her sister, a wet sponge in her hand, and tries to mend the dress before the damage worsens.

"Doesn't look too bad, Zelds," Hilda tries but her sister just flicks her wrist and throws the newspaper across the room, single sheets flying into every possible direction.

"It's ruined!" Zelda yells and brushes a few of her dull looking curls behind her hair, inhaling deeply.

For once Hilda isn't so sure if her sister is talking about the ruined piece of clothing she loves so dearly. She watches the ginger's chest heave and fall in an even quicker pace and the closed eyes tell her that the sudden outburst probably isn't about the dress and rather about a certain brunette.

"Nothing a bit of magic can't fix..." Hilda says nevertheless. Her sister doesn't need to know that her once so strong façade isn't as strong anymore. She would just be consumed by a fury that would probably mean the Cain pit for the blonde.

"I'm not talking about the damn dress, Hilda!" Zelda yells and throws her arms up into the air before she reaches for another cigarette, not even caring to place it in the cigarette holder. She just straight up smokes it, not caring about how her fingers could end up looking yellow.