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    Wednesday cries in her sleep.

    Enid knows what it is to feel raw and exposed. Knows what it is to have bones and flesh and raw abrasions that snap apart and split. She feels the shame of the experience mirrored somewhere in Wednesday's gaze. Always guarded. Always a study in subtlety and napalm. But there's something about the fog and how it makes the room the darkest it's ever been that helps Enid feel brave.

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    16/?
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    24 Sep 2025