Chapter Text
I expected my first true brush with death, one neither at my or my brother’s hand, to be thrilling. Many an Addams has encountered Death early, and more so have met It and lived to tell turn the tale into a tradition.
It is something sacred, to meet Death like this. For Its hands to wrap around one’s soul and tug. It must be said that having all the warmth pool out of my body was a riveting experience. I was ready to embrace the end until the very last drop of blood held on, tearing my veins raw.
I had not tasted fear so sour in a decade. Even for one as at peace with their own mortality as I am, a last breath is no small thing, but that wasn’t the source of my fear. In the half-clarity of my psyche, it took me a moment to find its root… the answer spread cold through my limbs. I was leaving the school unprotected. This case forever unsolved. Every student exposed to the horrors unleashed through my own blood.
My heartbeat, far from its usual slow pulse, pounded through my bones. What was I missing? There was nothing else I could do. I had failed already, what was the point in rehashing my failure? Holding onto fears in our last moments is futile. They bring nothing but torment we can never resolve. Death doesn’t care for them, so neither should we.
But in spite of my efforts, I was unable to chase the thoughts away. Not only had I failed myself and everyone, I had failed Enid.
Her name latched where blood clung. In the burning walls of my veins, as life poured out of me. Despite our spats and disagreements, she had believed in me more than anyone. Supported me even though I hurt her, even though I never did anything to deserve it. The glint of her fangs in the moonlight, the absence of hesitation in the dark eyes of the wolf, the protective growl against Tyler’s throat as she kept him away from me…
Now I was leaving her behind with all my problems to solve. Alone against a monster meant to kill me.
She could already be dead. On the other side, perhaps I would get to say thank you.
But the idea of her body laying cold in the damp grass, mauled open by uncaring hands, gripped me far tighter than Death.
From that fear, from the echo of her name, burgeoned the unthinkable.
I, Wednesday Addams, found myself yearning for another chance. One more go to save Enid, to prove my worth; to gain my own place in the world.
My back ached against the stone. From numbness, pain seeped back into my nerves as I forced my eyes open. I couldn’t remember closing them. Goody’s presence at my side grew steady, and for a breath her hands were warm atop mine.
It is hard to believe how eagerly I jumped at the occasion to try a little longer. It remains to be seen if Death will ever forgive me… I do hope this rejection hasn’t burned any bridges for the future. I would hate to find myself living longer than what I had decided, simply because I wanted to protect… friends.
***
“Where’s Wednesday?”
I heard it across the crowd of students between us, her voice a brittle thing, shaking in the night. When my feet crossed the gates, and light exposed me to everyone there, she was the first I sought out. Eyes looking for blond hair found only blood and torn clothes.
Enid’s arms were fragile. They could be snapped with the right amount of tension, or ripped apart with a simple knot tied to a weight, thrown out a window. Her body could be shredded with blades, trampled by horses, or cracked like an egg dropped on pavement… but when she rammed into me, remnants of the wolf still clung to her musculature. Something feral curled around me, dug deep into my flesh. She fit around me like the iron-maiden I had received for my birthday last year.
The stench of wet earth mixed with the salt of fresh blood filled my lungs as I allowed her to hold me. It was the least I could offer, after she’d fought the Hyde. After she’d won.
I found myself seeking more. Proof it was Enid and not another ghost sent to keep me away from Death. Right along the curve of her shoulder, I searched for this proof like a starved animal sensing food. Chased the human smell of Enid under the dead leaves and gore tangled in her hair. Only then did I let my body relax.
My face fit against her neck, my arms snaked around her like a vice, I breathed in proof of life until it made me heavy.
***
Ever since that night, I would wake with the scent of rain on my mind. Musky petrichor clinging to my senses as I was wrenched from my nightmares.
“I would rather start the day impaled,” I told Thing, as his fingers inquisitively tapped on my bedside table. Had he still been in possession of his body, he would have cocked his head to the side; instead, the knob of wrist left on him twitched with intrigue.
I didn’t feel like elaborating on my most recent woes, so I simply uncrossed my arms and stepped out of bed.
No doubt my parents would soon appear to remind me we were to depart for Nevermore promptly, and I had no interest in enduring their doting longer than necessary. I had been packed for days — not for any particular anticipation of my return to campus, or enthusiasm at the idea of seeing everyone again. It was simply a practicality. To accelerate the process of leaving the manor and spending as little time in a confined space with father and mother.
Watching them be at each other’s beck and call, filled with overt affection and never ending hormones… had been especially grating to my sanity as of late.
I could wait to return to school, but I would rather not. The faster I was out of the house, the better. Mother had insisted on holding regular sessions to refine my gift as best as possible, but the visions had never been a pleasant process for my psyche. They left me exposed in a torturous way, and not the fun kind that would inevitably drive me to psychosis. Even Enid’s incessant nagging felt like better torture to subject myself to.
As had become common, the name etched the inside of my skull as it pressed into my thoughts. At once, the warmth of that night returned to my body like I was there, in her arms. My skin prickled with the sensation, and I braced against it.
Later, I got in the car with a beat to my step worthy of a funeral procession.
“My, Wednesday, you seem in a less sour mood than usual today,” Mother told me, no doubt referring to the way I had sat down without first adjusting my skirt to avoid creasing it.
“Perish the thought.” As hard as I fought it, something entirely lacking in bit carved out the words. It only drew a wider, more twisted smile across my mother’s face. She knew too much, and I had barely said a thing. Worse: she knew more than I did, and was waiting for me to ask her opinion. To depend on it. I was determined to never rely on her advice, but whatever teenage drivel my brain was attempting to curse me with was far into her comfort zone, and so out of mine…
As I closed my eyes to ignore my parents overt displays of affection, my skin tightened at the memory of Enid’s spine-breaking hold. She had run to me with such relief I hadn’t the strength to move out of the way. The matted strands of her hair still tickled my nose, a lingering feeling I found myself lost in more often than not as I stared at my own eyelids.
The drive to Nevermore remained a dragging ordeal, the road a boring line between the states not even enhanced by roadkill. Avoiding conversation with my parents and committing potential burial sites to memory could only occupy so much time.
***
My chest shrunk over my lungs as the car came to a stop by the metal gates of the school. Merely the result of my senseless daydreaming.
I had missed these grounds. After all, never had I encountered such diverse dangers until I stepped foot on them. What could this semester have in store for me? I was dying to know.
Perhaps this time, I would witness death in a whole new fashion. I had already dated a psychopathic serial killer, so I could check that off the bucket list, but there were still so many entries left.
I still had to discover a new disease, outsmart a tortured evil genius, and be burned at the stake for sorcery before I turned 20. I could not afford—
“Wednesday!” Enid’s form appeared in my peripheral vision as I disembarked from the family vehicle.
Petrichor, blood, and the underlying notes of Enid swirled under my ribs, caged yet no less dangerous. She had been perfect, in that moment. Arms used to softness wrapped like vices around my tired bones, cracking my shell of apathy with a single press. Those same arms, once more within reach…
“Wednesday?” Worry gave her voice new warmth.
I hadn’t acknowledged her presence. She’d stopped on her own before touching me, concerned by my lethargy. Still so careful. I was both thankful and filled with resentment at her everlasting respect of my boundaries. Perhaps I should have been concerned by the itch left where her arms should have touched me.
“Enid,” I droned, planting both my feet onto the ground and letting go of the door. “It seems there are still shades of pink you hadn’t assaulted my eyes with.”
A righteous smile illuminated her features, curving the pale lines across her left cheek. Scars cleaved through tender flesh by unworthy claws. Mementos of my own weakness, adorning her face like medals. Faded from careful tending…
“I see you’ve taken good care of your wounds. They’ve barely left a mark. How disappointing.”
Her hand rose to the scars, as if they’d started hurting again. “Oh these? Yeah…” The smile was gone.
Uneasiness settled in my stomach at the feeble twitch of her lips as she tried to recover. “Scars are tales carved into flesh,” I assured her, “you should be proud of them.”
“That’s what my mom said, too—”
“And you got them protecting…” Me. Fighting Tyler off me, putting herself in harm’s way to save me even though I hadn’t shown any similar inclination, instead putting her and the others in danger myself. “… your friends. They are proof of your courage. And your loyalty.”
My hand twitched with an instinct to reach over. Remove hers from her face to see the scars again. It was imperceptible to the untrained eye, but I had learned. In the eventual case one of my appendages decided to rebel and I had to cut it off before the insubordinate member spread its sentience to others.
I knew.
Enid smiled again. Smaller, almost coy. It didn’t suit her quite as well, as if holding herself back, but she wore it with a gentle flush that balanced it out. I was too stunned to notice her moving, and too focused on her face to care. She enveloped me in a tight embrace from which I had no hope of escaping. I don’t know that I would have tried, either way.
Something was different. An unexpected change shoving itself in the cracks of the memory. When my head turned to find that smell again, the very Enid thing hiding beneath the world, I found a stranger. A stranger smelling of autumn leaves and cemetery grass.
Had she buried someone recently?
I decided not to unearth that body, just yet. It would be a topic for another time.
Lurch was already unloading the car of my belongings. I refused to let my parents use that time to imagine for even a second I was anything but neutral about returning to Nevermore.
My eyes found Enid’s prim face following me like a lighthouse every time I looked over. When it was time to walk to our room, she turned to my family before I could.
“I got it from here. They’re being very strict about who we let into the buildings after well — oh, I’m sure you’re not up to anything, but the school, uh…”
“We can never be too cautious after what happened, yes.” Mother looked at father with playful eyes. What was she imagining? “Well then, Wednesday, we’ll see you on the crystal ball next weekend.”
“Goodbye, my Wilting Flower. Do your worst.” My father kissed my head, and they were off. Thing climbed up Enid’s shoulder to wave at them.
She erupted with glee at his presence. “Thing! Oh, I can’t wait to show you my new nail kit, I got it for my birthday, and…”
Enid picked up one of my bags as she talked, unprompted, and made her way into Ophelia Hall, expecting me to follow. Whatever she carried became featherlight, bending to a new gravity only Enid could pull. I found myself… affected.
She seemed to have grown over the break. Her shoulders were broader, her hair a little wilder. Longer. Shinier. How many full moons had it been? How many new scars could she hide under makeup and clothing? The image of fresh blood, fresh wounds, mixing once more with tears and dirt across her face as her body broke itself back together poured concrete through my legs.
I followed inside only after she turned to check I was behind her, grabbing the rest of my luggage stiffly.
Perhaps the first mystery to solve was of my newfound obsession with Enid Sinclair. How quickly could her claws empty a human of its blood? What a thrilling inquiry.
My stalker could wait. If they tried anything I had a werewolf to protect me, after all.