Chapter Text
Wednesday slowly blinked as Weems knelt down in front of her.
“You don’t want to let go?”
She shook her head. She needed it.
“Okay. I’m going to come closer, okay?”
A growl bubbled in her chest. Weems was going to take it away from her.
“I won’t take it from you. I promise, Wednesday, I won’t take the knife from you. I just want to be a little closer in case you feel tired. You don’t have to give it to me. All I want to do is sit in front of you, that’s it. I promise”
Weems's tone was earnest and steady. She nodded in acceptance. As long as she didn’t have to stop. She wasn’t done yet. She needed to keep going
Weems slowly scooted closer. Once the principal deemed herself close enough, she moved her legs to be spread on either side of Wednesday. The usual elegant dresses that the headmistress wore had been switched out for a pair of pants and shirt that looked just as expensive. Though her legs were next to and past Wednesday, they kept a distance and didn’t touch her
Wednesday stayed still, watching Weems, to make sure that she wasn’t going to take it from her. Once she was sure that the shapeshifter wouldn’t restrain her and take it away, she resumed. She slid her hand across, creating little red rivers with her trusty silver blade. She closed her eyes when the stinging came. Her breath was calm as ever but her heart was thumping away in her thigh and chest. The liquid slid off and dropped onto the tile floor with a single bloop. She moved her hand down a few centimeters and slid across again. Another river was created, bringing the same ecstasy that the previous ones brought. She took a deep breathe and reveled in the feeling. She made five more by the time the feeling became too overwhelming. If she tried to push through, she’d create an ocean
She was done for tonight. Her fingers eased from the white-knuckle grip to a lack grip, making the scalpel clatter to the tile with sharp dings. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp at the noise. It was so quiet before it fell. The sharp dings echoed throughout the communal restroom, breaking the hushed atmosphere
Wednesday’s eyes fluttered open. Weems stared at her with a mournful look. She should say something. Convince her that she’s okay, that this isn’t anything serious, but she’s too out of breath to even begin to form words.
Weems raised her arms “Come here. Come here, my sweet girl”
Her autopilot brain doesn’t even think not to disobey. Wednesday turns a little and moves her legs out of the position they’ve been in for twenty minutes. At least that’s how long she thinks she’s been in the bathroom this time. Honestly she can’t say how long these sessions ever are but they feel like a long time and this one got interrupted. She crawled the few feet that separated the two of them. Her thighs crying the whole time, giving her another boost and she heaves a heavy sigh from it.
She all but collapses onto the woman. Arms snake around her and bring her impossibly close. Under her right ear, she could hear a steady beating. Right behind her left ear, a big hand grasps her head, holding it securely. Around her waist is an arm, still pressing her into the body underneath. Weems’s hold feels as if it is suppose to anchor her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the streaks of red that follow her to where she in now. It’s all over the floor, though in a contained kind of way at first. Little drops that rest next to each other. There’s no splatters, no pools, nothing to suggest that she had been out of control. But when it follows her, it looks sloppy. Smudges of red mixed with white tile making it look messy. As if she’s slowly loosing control and refusing to admit it. Some of it has gotten onto Weems’s nice pants. The red seeped into the material, creating long pools underneath her.
She doesn’t pay attention to how much time passes as she lays on top of Weems, instead focusing on herself and the other woman. She can feel her heart ever so slowly calming down, the stinging leaving her thighs, and the warmth that surrounded her earlier creeping away. She listens to the steady thumping and the inhale and exhale of Weems’s heart and lungs. Eventually the principal gives her a squeeze and begins talking
“Shall we get those legs cleaned up?”
“Hmm” She moans, not quite ready to move or talk yet
The hand on her head pets her
“Yes, it’s… It’s time to get cleaned up”
Weems pushes her away slightly, enough to come out from under her. She wants to say no, to stay in that position a little longer but she’s still a little out of it and is gently laid onto the ground without her permission. In her peripheral vision, Weems leaves and then she hears rustling. A few seconds later, Weems comes back into her line of vision. Her expression is still grim but it now has a determined hint to it
A cold wipe comes into contact with her open wounds. This sting is nothing compared to what it was earlier but she still blinks at the sensation. The cold wipes continue to swipe at her for another two minutes. Or was it just one minute? The next thing to assault her is a lotion of some kind. It’s applied so gently that if it wasn’t sticky, she was sure that she wouldn’t even feel it. Something big came over her thighs, over all of her streams. Her leg was then lifted up and something else was wrapped around. Weems wrapped both of her legs and disappeared again.
When Principal Weems came back, she put her arms underneath Wednesday’s legs and back. Wednesday was lifted up and carried out of the bathroom. They walked past her room and the other dorm rooms in Ophelia Hall. The hallway was dark with every door closed. She remembered that she had specifically chosen these hours because everyone was sleeping and not as likely to come to the restroom as they would during the day.
As they walked through the halls, her high was finally coming down. She hated this part, the freezing nausea with drenching sweat and violent shakes. Tremors were settling in as the magnitude of what happened this session settled in. Someone had walked in on her. That someone ran out and brought Principal Weems to her. She couldn’t even say who that someone was, too focused on the sensation during the annual session
“We’re almost there, Wednesday. We’re almost there.”
No, this was just the beginning. She knew where Weems was taking her. To the infirmary, where a nurse will cuff her to bed and look over the makeshift job that Weems did, correcting it as needed and looking over all her other marks, then her parents and therapist will be called and they’ll make the drive up. There’s going to be checks, more therapy, more watchful but concerned eyes. Hot tears burned her cheeks. Things were going to be taken away. She hopes they wouldn’t take all of her daggers. She needed them.