Page 54 of There's No Place Like Oz

“It works in a way that the witch’s themselves are always satisfied, but despite their often twisted predilections, it’s also to their advantage that their victims bond to them to some degree. When she took my ability to feel love or empathy, she made sure my brain still retained its reward center and endorphins. Someone like Grunhilda needed an enthusiastic pounding, and never an empty one.” Crowe was unusually forthright. But then, I supposed he never seemed to hide much from me when I thought about it. Most of what I’d learned about Oz thus far had been thanks to him, even if he struggled with understanding human needs.

“Do you ever miss her?” The question had been on my mind for a while. In all the drama, these women who they claimed to despise so much still seemed to be the most central focus of their minds. While Leon and Tobias were sweet as vanilla, I couldn’t help thinking Crowe and Talos needed something more than I could provide as a plain, unspectacular human.

Crowe paused for a few moments more than an extended blink. His body tensed when I asked the question, and it didn’t relax until he spoke again. “No.” Unconvincing. His head dropped to his chest, and I wondered if I’d hit some sort of forgotten emotion deep inside him. Something the Wicked Witch of the East had failed to take. “There was no honest affection between us, but I don’t know who or what I was before her, so in some strange way, she was like my first love.”

I was completely taken aback by that answer. “You never forget your first love, I guess.” I actually felt bad for him. But then, it’s not like I couldn’t relate at all.

“Would be nice to though.” Crowe laughed. “Nothing like the first person to give you lifelong trauma and emotional baggage, you know?”

“Preach.” I shook my head. “Mine was a little less extreme, but the first guy I ever fell for—like,reallyfell for—used to treat me so badly, it was almost comical looking back. He would pay just enough attention to me, feed mejustenough hope that he might be interested in me too, then he would use that to get me to do things for him. Sometimes just little errands or chores, like getting him food or paying for everything, and sometimes it was sexual favors. I still think about all the times I jumped through hoops to make him happy, never even noticing—maybe never even caring—that he wouldn’t lift a finger in the reverse. If he was nice enough to simply take time out of his day to text me back, that was all it took to make me feel special enough to keep trying. Keep believing I mattered and just had to put in alittle morework to deserve to be seen.”

Crowe was quiet as I told my story. I don’t know why I was telling him this at all, honestly. It must seem so trivial and low stakes compared to his experience. But I wanted to relate this to someone. It was a dumb story I’d always been too embarrassed to speak of.

“The worst part was, when he finally got a girlfriend who wasn’t me, that didn’t even snap me out of my trance. I just thought‘I didn’t try hard enough. I didn’t please him well enough. She’s better and prettier than me, so of course he chose her instead.’God it was so stupid.” I almost wanted to laugh at how pathetic this must sound. “I should have learned from that relationship, but even when I opened my eyes and saw it for what it was, I still ended up repeating the same cycle over and over again. I fucked anyone who promised me the slightest acknowledgments. I thought I could turn the tables and usethemfor once, and instead I found myself taking bigger risks with even shittier men. I was ‘beating’ them by being a toy who never argued, so long as they promised to give me what I wanted. Yet still I left with nothing. I don’t know how I ended up so deeply in that mindset of low self-esteem, but I couldn’t get out of it.”

A ping of shame struck me as I spoke. That was stupid too. “Even as I talk about it now, I still don’t know that I’m out of it. If anything, you’re probably a testament that I’m still in that toxic cycle. A guy like you is probably worst of all.” My laugh was ironic.

Bound at our wrists and still silent, Crowe pressed his palm to mine. He slipped his fingers in between each of my digits, and he squeezed softly. He leaned back and the crowns of our heads touched. Quiet affections that sent a jolt through my heart.

“He was an idiot.” An extended pause. “But you’re right. I feel nothing for you.” He said, stoic and measured. A direct contradiction to every little gesture, which only made those words sting more. “That’s reality, Dorothy. If you die, I’ll feel nothing. If you succeed, I’ll feel nothing. I’m with you because I’m using you. It’s not personal, but I don’t have a choice to feel differently. So if you’re confused, don’t be. I am exactly who I said I am, and nothing more. If I’m someone you’re feeling misguided affection for, I suggest squashing that right now.”

And that reminded me that I was the one being unfair in wanting something more from Crowe. The way he lost it when I was in danger sometimes made me think he cared about me, but then I had to remember that he was simply with me tofixthe fact that he couldn’t care about me—or anyone else for that matter. My death would also be the end of his hope, not the end of someone who mattered on a deeper level. Being a Sociopath by choice was one thing. Being unfeeling by magic and lobotomy was another. “I know—”

“I’m not finished.” He interrupted and gave another squeeze of my hand. “But when I said I’d protect you, I meant it. Not holding emotions does not mean I’m not a man of my word.” He turned his head to the side, and I followed suit, meeting his cheek with my own. I felt his muscles shift as his lips dropped into a frown. “But for your sake, reserve that hope in that sweet little heart of yours for men like Tobias or Leon or Talos. You deserve men who will place the world at your feet, not a heartless monster who will light that world on fire. I’m not willing to be another mistake that makes you cry behind closed doors.” The graveness in his tone was uncharacteristically serious for Crowe. Maybe that’s why my heart sunk so deeply from his words. Because Iwasfalling into that same trap again, entirely of my own unfair invention.

I faced forward again, not wanting him to see or feel my own expressions. The strangest part about the battle now raging in my mind was that his words hurt while also making me trust him even more, and maybe that was the most fucked up part about me.

“Gwen had said that you were human once.” I uttered next. “She told me her sister stole you from my world. I know you don’t recall that, but I felt like it wasn’t fair to keep that information from you.”

“Is that right?” Still so measured and still so unreadable. “Maybe I don’t want to go back to what I used to be then.” His chuckle shook us both, and that made me laugh too.

“I’m not sure I would want to go back to being someone like me either if I’d had a taste of the freedom you have.” I spoke much more cheerfully now. He squeezed my hand again.

“There is a freedom to it for sure, but don’t cut yourself short. If feeling nothing was fully satisfying, I wouldn’t be tied up in spider shit with a pretty girl from Kansas in a far off witch’s dungeon waiting to be digested alive right now.”

“Fair point.” I squeezedhishand this time. I relaxed against his back, and he relaxed against mine. Harsh as he was, this softer version of Crowe that he let me see in private was comforting. “So then, how are we getting out of here? I don’t think your heroics of the West are going to work with you being tied up and all.”

“You’re stronger now with Gwen’s blood in your shoes, no? I’m expectingyouto saveme.” He said with a teasing smirk.

“Well in that case, I can be a woman of my word, too.” I hugged my knees to my chest, giving myself a better view of my little pink heels. Did these shoes really have the power of a witch in them? That would be helpful if I had any clue how to utilize it. Assuming a regular human evencouldtap into magic.

We sat in the quiet dungeon for minute after minute, hour after hour—idly chatting like we were actually friends. I couldn’t guess how long had passed, but I savored this calm before the storm for as long as I could. The tornados were rarely forgiving, and I’d learned to cling to the good until it was time to deal with the bad.

“So why is it that you can hear Talos when the rest of us can’t?” I asked idly.

“How indeed.” Crowe seemed more amused by the question than anything. “It’s a ritual that he has to initiate. I’d prefer he show you rather than I try and explain.” I couldn’t help but think he was being a bit tongue in cheek.

“Does it… hurt?”

Crowe snorted. “What fun would it be if it didn’t?”Not very reassuring. “I tried to talk him into it, but he’s soft on you. I don’t know why though. As human as your flesh and morality may be, you strike me as pretty hearty.”

“Is that a compliment?” I smiled quietly to myself.

“Depends on what face you want the world to see. A person who wants to appear delicate might be bothered by that statement, but a woman who wants to feel equal might be proud. Which one are you, Dorothy?” His tone was casual, but his words bordered on philosophical.

“As an actress, I’ve pretended to be so many different people, I honestly don’t know what I want anymore. Sometimes I’m not sure who ‘Dorothy’ is myself.” My answer came from deep in my gut, and I was surprised by my own words. Equally obtuse but… honest. “Do you ever feel that way? Like you’re putting on an act to be accepted, to the point you can barely discern what’s you and what’s a persona for everyone else?”

“I wonder…” was the only words Crowe managed when the door to our cell opened noiselessly on well-maintained hinges. In the new light that filled the room, the silhouette of a petite woman blocked the orange glow, offering only darkness in a pathway of hope.

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