Chapter Text
To The One Who Listens
"Wednesday?"
She awoke from her trance, reality hitting her after leaving her deep pool of thoughts.
She was in her family's car, her parents' black limousine resembling a funeral coach, the forest flying past. She was on her way to Nevermore again, set to return to another semester of school with her trunk secured on the roof, and wearing her black uniform that matched her hair.
Her mother, Morticia, sat on the blood red seat across from her, talking to her.
"Wednesday?" she asked, her low mellifluous voice gently settling over the limousuine. "How long are you going to give us the cold shoulder?"
Gomez spoke, in his voice that could charm a wild alligator. "Are you excited for Nevermore again, my little storm cloud?"
Wednesday stopped to consider it. This time last semester, she would have detested the question or thought of the school. She'd planned to escape as soon as possible via any means possible. Now, returning didn't seem as daunting. She felt almost content with it. She'd liked the school, the mysteries to unravel, fighting, cases to solve, and... Enid.
The thought of of her roommate blocked out all else in her dark, twisted, ever functioning brain. How they had started off rocky, opened up to each other, had their relationship tested, and eventually, after the battle, she'd hugged Enid...
She never hugged anyone. Ever.
What were they even now? Friends? Their relationship was complex, but they had to be closer than friends. Roommates? No, not quite. The word didn't capture how Enid made her feel. In fact, she couldn't even think of a word herself to describe how she felt about her roommate. Ineffable, maybe. Wednesday quickly tried to change her train of thought, crossing her legs subconsciously. Enid was just her roommate she was looking forwards to seeing.
Wednesday's mind turned to slight caution. For all the good the semester could hold, it certainly could be unenjoyable. The new principal could be a strict killjoy who quelled her investigations and cases. Being forced to socialise with other outcasts her age could lead to some uncomfortable scenarios. She wouldn't have Thing anymore. He'd finished his time as her loyal servant, and after professing his undying loyalty for a semester, now her parents had asked for him to stay with them at the Addams estate again. She would never admit it, but she would really feel his absence. He was handy to have around, and the perfect partner in crime. And lastly, she'd been stuck in writer's block for the end of the holidays, spending the hour at her typewriter doing little, struggling to put her thoughts to the paper. Maybe inspiration would help her.
"I've been anticipating it", she replied to her parents, her face devoid of all emotion, revealing no secrets.
Her mother tilted her head, pressing her lips together. "Well, i'm certainly happy you're going back", she whispered kindly, smiling at her daughter. Gomez leaned in, looking like his heart might burst. "Your mama and papa are so proud you're continuing our legacy there. We'll miss you every day". He blew a melancholy kiss to his daughter, slight tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. Wednesday did not return the sentiment. Her face was as unyielding as a funerary monument. Gomez sighed, then gazed at Morticia, admiring her as if she were Aphrodite herself.
Upon arrival, a tall, Italian man in his sixties, in a fitted navy Armani suit with a white beard like the snow from the Alps, strode across the gravel driveway to their car, slow and purposeful. He introduced himself to Gomez and Morticia politely as Principal Romano Bianchi, but Wednesday didn't care for formalities, retrieving her trunk and heading through the corridor's grand arches to Ophelia hall, the clicking of wheels on the stone following her.
As she reached the gothic arched panel wooden door, a minuscule grin and the lightest hint of a rose coloured blush that only her closest companion would have been able to notice graced her expression. She stopped herself at once, and reset her pale deadpan face. What am I doing? she berated herself. She shouldn't be feeling this way. Enid was a roommate, and nice to have around. Nothing more.
She walked in to an unusual sight. The large window was split down the middle between the vibrant, bright colours and the transparent, practical and Gothic side. Her bed and desk were still on her side of the room, untouched. Her roommate's stuff was there: the fluffy toys, colourful drapes, the soft fabric in pink, yellow and green, and the fairy lights, giving her side of the room a feeling of energy and life, the antithesis to Wednesday. Everything seemed in place. What was off?
Enid.
She sat on her bed, a quilt of warm colours beneath her. Her body was slightly droopy, her arms around herself. Her head was slightly bowed, and her lip was quivering. She saw Wednesday enter, and stood up slowly, trying to stand upright, but her body slightly shook.
No "Howdy Roomie?" this time? Wednesday took a step closer, leaning forwards slightly.
"Enid?" she asked, her voice slightly wavering. "What's wrong?", her voice returing to its usual monotone.
Enid sniffed slightly, clearing her throat. "I'm fine Wednesday" she replied, her voice finally settling. She flicked her hair, fidgeting slightly.
Wednesday remained anchored to the floor, an obsidian monolith amidst Enid's riot of colour. Silence had never embarrassed her. To her, it was just as, if not more important that speaking. Enid, however, felt the tension, and decided to try initiate conversation, changing the topic.
"So, how were your holidays? Anything exciting?" Her smile formed, but it lacked the energy it always had. "I enjoyed my freedom from this endless prison. I practised fencing, poisoned myself with scorpion venom to build tolerance and worked on my novel". Wednesday knew the last part was only half true. The second half of the holiday, she hadn't even written five pages, despite hours at her typewriter. The writer's block is nothing. It will cease soon.
"Oh, and Thing won't be with us. He finished his tenure of servitude to me and will stay with my parents in the estate".
Enid twisted her lips to the side, her face downcast. "Really? I'll miss his massages and gossip", she added, sighing.
Wednesday didn't respond. She knew deep down, she'd miss Thing too. He was a great assistant.
"Anyways. I'm going to finish unpacking. You probably should too". Enid stepped back to her side of the room, shoulders hunched and head slightly down. Wednesday raised an eyebrow, then rolled her trunk to her closet, and began unpacking her clothes that wouldn't look out of place in a black and white movie from the 40's, assorted items related to psychic powers, a multitude of concealed blades, a number of bear traps, poisons, and hand grenades. Those should lift her spirits.
"Enid?"
She awoke with a start. She saw her mother Esther's face looming above her. "Come on, don't be late for the first day back at school!" she added, a slight hint of aggression in her tone.
Enid slid out of bed, rubbing her eyes. She pulled on a colourful, striped knit sweater and leggings, and walked downstairs. Her family were arguing, chaotic and messy. Enid put her palm to her forehead, soothing her temple, and pressed on, making herself breakfast, a stack of flapjacks with maple syrup. She sat at the counter on a stool and ate her food, going slowly, not wolfing it down like her siblings at the table in the dining room. Like the rest of the holiday, her household seemed to vanish, passing by in blurs, leaving her isolated at the counter, a million things she wanted to do or say, that stayed within the island of her mind.
Eventually, she grabbed her bags, and left, only stopping to let her father know she was off. He gave her a warm smile, and wished her luck, giving her a hug. Enid leaned in, eyes closed. She'd needed that. She dashed off, and got in a taxi to the airport.
On the flight, she spent the hours between San Francisco International Airport and Burlington International Airport pondering. Her feelings had never felt so smudged, like a tie dye shirt she would have made when she was younger, except this one wasn't pretty and vibrant.
Her holidays had been terrible. The constant pressure from her mother to wolf out again and conform to her tradition. Feeling neglected yet pressured when her parents were busy with her siblings, and the only moments her mother spent with her, she was frowning, trying to convince her to sign up for a summer camp, go see her wild relatives, or just ranting at her to stop being such a problem.
Upon arrival, Enid took another taxi to Nevermore, and stopped by the entrance. She saw the buildings repaired from the events of last term, but the mental scars remained. She still remembered how the burning smelt. The feeling of wolfing out. Fighting the Hyde. The terror of wondering if Wednesday had survived, and then...
The hug. Wednesday never hugged her.
She wondered how Wednesday felt about the hug. Maybe embarrassed for showing emotion, maybe indifferent with her cold black heart.
But maybe she felt how Enid felt. Completely consumed, relieved, understood, overjoyed, in love, and everything in between
She tried to convince herself it wasn't love. She couldn't love Wednesday. Her parents would abandon her, and the feeling wasn't mutual. Wednesday only loved her novel, Thing, and funerals. She'd be kicked out of her family, and all for nothing.
She watched the new Principal introduce himself to parents. He smelled of citrus, herbs and earthy wood, scents that made her tilt her head back, part her lips slightly, and inhale it, enjoying every second. He smelled reassuring, even from fifty feet away. She hid a small smile to herself, glad Weems had a good successor and the school would be in good hands.
Speaking of the school...
Enid carried her bags to Ophelia Hall. Her other friends were always nice to be around, and she valued her connections, but Wednesday felt different, and she was, in every way. She was beyond unique, a person you met once a millenium if you were lucky, and made your life exciting, scary, risky, unpredictable, and fun in every way.
Enid saw the empty right side of the room. Wednesday wasn't here yet. She had time to herself. She began by unpacking her large, saturated, fashionable and vibrant wardrobe, then setting up her side of the room, not crossing the now imaginary line in the middle. She coloured her side of the large window, using pink, purple, yellow and blue. She put up her drapes and fairy lights, twinkling above her like stars. The familiarity calmed her for a moment.
She sat on her bed, unpacking soft fluffy toys, but felt a weight on her chest. The world felt smaller, duller, and walls felt closer. Thoughts slipped into her mind, the unresolved questions which had haunted her all holiday.
"Who am I, if I'm not a werewolf? If my pack abandons me, I'm hopeless, lonely and dead. My mom is starting to despise me, like my siblings. My wild relatives are no better. I never feel like I can be myself in any way. What if I never can? I'm gonna have to choose between being civilised, and giving up a part of myself, or being what i'm not, and losing myself in the process".
She fought it, but ended up at her mind's mercy, battling fake scenarios and defending her eyes from tears escaping. She slowly slumped onto her bed, her head in her hands. Her light blonde bob of hair fell around her face, like a veil attached to a crown too heavy. She sobbed quietly, pain refusing to disengage, thoughts piercing her mind.
She heard the door open, and sat up quickly, drying her eyes on her sweater. She drooped slightly, but it was better than someone seeing her cry.
"Enid?"
The next morning, Enid had woke, dressed, and done her makeup, but couldn't help but feel like no matter how many masks she wore, she'd never change how she felt inside. She chatted to her friends, all happy and excited to be back, but as the conversation wore on, she realized she had no one to talk to about her problems, no one she trusted. Wednesday was off, likely already working on some mystery, getting herself in trouble, or in a fight. Thing wasn't there anymore. Who did she have?
You can choose what to do in this situation, Enid.
Her mind wandered. She remembered she had the whole day off. No school yet, thanks to the new principal. What did she want to do? Not her mother, her family, tradition, or any prophecy. What felt right to her?
Enid excused herself from her friends, and wandered the halls, almost lead by a mythical curiousity, and otherworldly drive. She slowly felt herself being pulled, in the direction of the library, and walked east. Then, she saw it.
A small storage closet, unnamed, unmarked, on the right of the library entrance. The door was open. Inside was a room of stone arch and brick, in some places slightly crumbled, but still solid. It was small, like a family crypt, but had shelves all around the door and small standing space in the middle, some holding books, clearly old or past their time. Then it called to her.
A small, bronze socket, made of a frame the size of an envelope for a letter, screwed to the wall behind the door. The top was open, letting anything easily be slid in or out. It called to her, enticing, asking to be noticed.
Asking for a letter.
This is stupid. No one will ever else be here, or see a letter you leave here. And would they reply?, she thought, her mind racing.
But what if someone sees it and replies?
Write a letter. You have the day off, and if no one replies, you lose nothing. Write it like you're writing to a friend.
Enid settled on her course of action. This was not what she was expected to do today. Not by her mother, tradition, people, or the world. She was master of her own destiny. And step by step, she would escape her mental lupin cage, because if she didn't, sunrise might never come.
To The One Who Listens
Hi. I have no clue if anyone will ever read this.
I feel like an actor in my own skin. A masquerade, faking being my old persona just to feel myself, and so people accept me. I'm plagued by expectations, feelings and loneliness. I'm losing myself, the people I care for, and hope. All I ask, is a friend who will write to me. Please, if you find this, reply, so that we can talk through this mask, a visor for our visors.
Every light needs a shadow
End of Chapter 1