Chapter Text
After such an invigorating event, Morticia hurried to check up on us, and therefore, witnessed our embrace.
There was a moment of silence after we separated that my father interrupted with a manic grin, still covered in the viscera of our feathered attackers, seemingly unaware of the growing tension.
“Ah, nothing like a murder attempt to finish the night on a high note, right Tish?”
When he took notice of the thick ambiance in the room, his eyebrows rose and he winked at me. I read his expression as a lifeline offer, to which I gave a small nod. At least he remained an ally of some kind to me.
“Ah, cara mia! I believe I have been wounded and require a medicine only you can provide… Will you cure this poor, wretched soul? I promise to be a terrible patient…”
“Of course, mon cher. Wait for me at the office, I will be there in a moment.” At her answer, Gomez smiled and left a kiss on my mother's hand before leaving the three of us alone.
I noticed my roommate fidgeting with her claws. By the way she looked between me and Mother repeatedly, there was no doubt Morticia’s presence was beginning to fray her nerves.
I couldn't blame my friend; she had that effect on most people.
“Um, hello again, Mrs. Addams…” She mumbled, pitifully. My friend is not accustomed to silence, least one this charged with hostility.
After a long second, my mother finally gave in, showing Enid a sympathetic smile. I let out a deep sigh. It was not the first time they met, but it was probably the longest they had ever interacted.
“Are you girls okay? You look striking in red, Enid. But, are you hurt?” I barely held a huff in. Of course she would try to gain my friend’s favor. Mother was the kind of serpent that could and would turn others against you.
“Oh, yes! These are only scratches for a werewolf,” Enid said almost immediately. Her suddenly inflected voice sounded fearful of my mother’s preoccupation, as if scared of receiving her attention.
As always, and each time I noticed these traits of insecurity—the loud lack of self-worth, her distraught while in the presence of adults—my thoughts diverged to a dark spot.
I sharpened the silver knives inside my mind and envisioned my chase after Esther Sinclair, enjoying every second of it. A hunt without violence would never satisfy my hunger to avenge the permanent damage she had caused to my friend’s self-esteem.
Alas, we stood in the cabin’s living room, with Mother’s attention smoldering Enid. I had to do something about it, but my lupine companion beat me to it and echoed Morticia’s question, only this time it was directed at me.
“Are you hurt, Wednesday?” Her frown showcased her worry about my physical state. “Let me take care of those cuts.”
As a matter of fact, it was debatable whether I received more wounds than her. However, her nature made her recovery way faster than a human’s. By that logic, she admittedly held an advantage over me regarding healing.
While I was certain that Enid and I were not severely hurt, she was right.
As a werewolf, she wouldn’t need much treatment; by the shows of it, her cuts were already closing. Whereas I would need to clean the wounds, apply ointment, and cover them to prevent any possible infections.
Even so, I was completely capable of taking care of them myself.
“Enid, that won’t be necessa—” I couldn’t finish expressing my reluctance as she interrupted me, leaving no room for complains.
She insisted on aiding me.
“Please,” she added in a fragile voice that made my will bent at her very desire to help me out.
I balanced my options, and would have preferred going back to Nevermore just as I was at the moment.
On one severed hand, if I didn’t accept Enid’s offer, I would have to endure my mother inquiring about something I wished not to talk about. It would be torture, and not the fun kind.
On the other, I risked Enid acknowledging my sudden burst of physical affection. Although it wasn’t the best option, there didn’t appear to be another, and I believed I could handle her presence better than Morticia’s. Though opposed to it at first, I had grown almost familiarized to her while sharing a room last year.
Ultimately, I decided not to deny her. If I were to be left alone with Mother, she would question my actions and corner me until I confessed what I had seen during my seizure. Or until we ended up arguing, as always.
I would never willingly let my mother hold the upper hand in our relationship by exposing my hidden thoughts. So I would do the reasonable thing and keep the newfound feelings—the ones the curse had awakened in me—to myself for as long as possible.
My mind was reeling while I dejectedly sat on the edge of couch. A disgustingly warm feeling settling on my chest the moment I thought about having Enid close to me.
I searched for something that would serve as my excuse to escape such predicament, anything that would distract Enid from my irregular heartbeat and Morticia from using this instance as a bonding moment.
Together, they were a force to be reckoned with.
But divide, and you shall conquer.
“Mother, I wish to talk with Enid about what happened back there. In private.” I hoped my stern but vulnerable request would be accepted. She gazed at me, her eyes reflecting her little to no desire to comply.
She then took note of how I (supposedly) let my guard down in front of her, and abandoned the room. Not before adding, “We’ll talk about earlier afterwards, dear.”
I now had a bigger challenge: I had to choose between staying, letting her clean my cuts, and trying to explain something she would not like to hear. Or escaping, which sounded like the wrong option under any morally correct point of view.
“I can assure you I’m completely fine, Enid.” I stated the first thing after Mother exited the room.
“I just want to make sure you’re really okay, Wends. I promise not to touch you if it’s not necessary.” She was frowning at me, tears threatening to spill from her eyes if I were to reject her plea.
Sighing, I complied and took my blazer off along with my sweater and necktie.
I bared my arms in front of her anxious gaze. She gasped once I showed her the cuts the birds had left on my forearms and biceps. There was a deep slit on my shoulder which bled profusely, I had not noticed it until her face become frantic at the sight of crimson soaking my blouse.
I reluctantly took off half of my shirt off so she could work on it with no obstacles.
“Enid, you’re covered in blood too. Don’t think much of it.”
“Right… I should—Let me get cleaned and I’ll patch you up, okay?”
“Okay.”
The opportunity I had awaited for (ever since Mother left) finally showed up. But something wouldn’t let me escape from the cottage and the nightmare of letting myself unguarded in front of Enid.
Once I was alone, I couldn’t help but curse the deep loyalty I had developed towards Enid; it wouldn’t allow me to leave without an explanation, not after seeing her so concerned about my well-being.
This disturbing, profound allegiance towards her was becoming irritating. Try hard as I could, it was impossible to ignore nor suffocate.
I then recalled the golden hue on Enid’s eyes that had completely left her as soon as she realized we were safe. It didn’t go unnoticed by me, but I wondered if she was aware of it.
During my childhood, I had ravenously devoured each and every available book about lycanthropy. I found myself deeply obsessed with their nature, their transformation ability intrigued me the most. Witnessing it in person became a longtime dream of mine besides capturing the Kansas City Scalper.
I had read about certain types of lycans possessing specific features depending on their place in the pack. I didn't want to delve into what a amber-eyed, blood-moon werewolf's role would be in a typical rout, yet I knew a wolf with those traits had no place in it.
From what I had learned, mentions of golden eyes and transformations under lunar eclipses were something hardly if even possible. Together, they pointed towards a rather uncommon kind. If it were to be true, Enid's wish to thrive within her peers would be utterly shattered.
As bad as I wanted for this nightmare to end (unexpected, even for me), I soon realized that Enid wouldn’t budge. I thought that a small deception might help me out, even though I normally loathe lies.
While I saw her coming back with the first-aid kit and diluted antiseptic liquid, I prepared to feign frailty as it would be the only thing that could change Enid’s mind.
Although I was more than used to manipulate others, doing so with my friend—the closest, and only one I had—left a bad taste in my mouth, the bitter flavor of betrayal coated my mouth. All I could do was swallow it.
“Enid, I don’t think this is a good idea-”
“Gosh, why are you so opposed to it? You didn’t mind helping me after Tyl—After the attack.”
“That was different.” The mention of him made me see red, and almost blow my plan away. It took me a second, but I managed to focus on the task at hand and continued. “As much as I despise to admit this… I don’t want to have another vision. There, are you satisfied now?”
“Oh, that’s—Wends, I’m glad you feel safe enough to admit it.” I could see her eyes gleaming with compassion at me after I showed weakness willingly, she even spared me a sympathetic smile.
I felt my jaw clenching and the tip of my ears burning. I made a silent vow to never humiliate myself like this again. But her grin made it easier for me to endure the mix of emotions flooding my rib cage, like centipedes fighting their way out of my guts.
“Earlier it was… pretty intense. I’m sorry, I should’ve realized—Wait, but you h-hugged me!”
With the cadaver out of the coffin, I had to rapidly come up with a distraction that would be enough to divert my friend’s attention. Just so she wouldn’t indulge too much in the hug nor the vision.
Her eyes, those agonizingly deep, caring eyes, would be the bane of my existence. I couldn’t help but stare straight into them, hoping for a glimpse of any doubts or emotions that would allow me to escape the situation.
Enid knew, for once, that she had me backed into a corner.
I stayed still, wordless for a second after realizing she would be the end of my sanity. Ever since I met her, I have found myself making mistakes, having emotions, and being eerily human. Something I am not accustomed at all to be, and that somehow, feels weirdly right.
This change in me was as unexpected as it was hearing I would have to share a room with someone when I had arrived at Nevermore.
If I had the chance to go back in time and warn myself from the past about her infuriatingly endearing roommate and the way she would creep into her life, I wouldn’t take it.
One of the several things I hate is ruining the fun of a surprise, and I would certainly choose not to spoil a younger me about the 5’3” bombshell that was about to be dropped into her life.
She would eventually find a way to deal with it, after all. Or as Grandmama would say, “master the rot.”
I would force myself to bite the bullet this time, or swallow it; it is unwise to keep on avoiding challenges, though this one was something more than personal. So I would (begrudgingly) welcome Enid’s preoccupation and try to ease it by letting her heal my wounds.
“Do not bring that up. Just… Do whatever you need to, and make it quick.” I felt my pulse rushing with every passing moment. My face was most undoubtedly flushing, but she said nothing of it, to which I’m grateful for.
“Okay, let me know if this hurts too much. Will you?”
“Yes,” I simply said.
She started by stopping the bleeding of the deepest cut, the one on my shoulder. This would take some time. In truth, I preferred spending it with Enid rather than Mother. She applied pressure for a moment until the leaking ceased (mostly), and then cleaned the slit thoroughly with diluted antiseptic liquid. It stung but I have suffered worse, thus I didn’t bother to complain about it.
I watched silently as she took care of the slash, her concentration evident on the way her eyes didn’t leave their laser focus on the wound. Then, out of nowhere and as if she noticed my quiet appreciation of her work, she called me out about it while applying ointment.
“Stop staring, you weirdo.” She snickered while continuing to cover the laceration with a piece of gauze. “Did the crows get your tongue too? C’mon entertain me while I patch you up, will you?”
One of the things Enid knows for a fact that I despise, is small talk. Yet I didn’t know what other way to calm all the unease inside of me at having the subject of my deepest desire so close and yet so distant from me.
I tried not to memorize every small detail of her features and forced myself to look elsewhere and come up with anything that could help keep her in good spirits. She was being brave enough to face one of her repulsions for me.
“I saw you eating meat earlier… Did you stop enjoying vegetarian food?” I knew better than to make myself the subject of the conversation so I decided to make my lupine friend the topic of it. She would love the attention, anyway.
“Well… I guess after wolfing out my appetite did change.” Enid made a long pause before continuing. “Quite a lot actually.”
She flashed me with the most blinding grin ever, and I couldn’t help but notice the way her canines shone under the dim light in the room like polished ivory. They seemed to have elongated. I filed this detail to away with my ever-growing list of changes I have noticed in her post-transformation.
Would she still smile at me the same if she knew about the ill omen my vision showed me?
“How so?”
“You know how we spent the last week before the break together? You saw me wolfing those salads down, right? Well, that was me trying to convince myself I wasn’t actually becoming like my brothers,” she admitted with a sheepish expression that I didn’t expect, hence the shameful twitch of my arm.
It was clear she thought of her brothers as animals. And so, it didn’t feel adequate making her think about her family too much, not after she had mentioned her disdain about the way her mother always seemed to favor the ‘actual werewolves’ of the family.
“Stay put, Wends. Wait, did that hurt?”
“I—No, it didn’t, it won’t happen again.” Hesitation. One of the many phenomena I hadn’t experienced l until after meeting Enid.
Everything was structured, certain, controlled. But then this colorful, hyper creature stepped into my life and everything I always thought definite became unpredictable, indeterminate and unknown.
It was an abrupt change that managed to thrill me once I got over the initial contempt and embraced its nature.
“You didn’t finish telling me about your vacations earlier.”
“Oh-em-gee! Right, so I kinda started talking to this boy–Bruno, you met him earlier! He’s so sensitive and he just gets me y’know? I didn’t know other werewolves could act normal instead of like wild animals.” Enid rambled, her ideas stumbling out of her mouth with great enthusiasm. It just made my mood worsen but seeing her content was enough to make me ignore the mention of that rabid mutt.
“I see… I’ll keep an eye on him.” I figured that was something one would say to a best friend. In reality I didn’t know if it was okay, if she would notice my more than palpable disgust at the mere mention of what I knew would be Enid’s next heartbreak.
“Of course you will,” she added with a smirk.
Did she perhaps read the underlying intention underneath my attempt at a friendly interaction? Did she already know the precise shape of the doom I carried?
She was giving me no clues, so I decided to change the subject and try bringing up something, anything we had in common. The only thing that came to mind, however, were our differences. How utterly opposite our personalities were most of the time, and how being near me would inherently put Enid’s well-being—her life even, in danger.
The familiar knife twisting deep inside my chest, refused to bring me that usual sense of relief. No, it only rendered me completely uncertain for the first time in my life, leaving a raw cut in its wake.
Dread crept from the abyss within me, and soon I was unable to speak or to move. Not for the lack of ability to do so, but because of the intense fear of saying or doing something wrong. The silence stretched between us, heavy enough to press the air form my lungs before either us spoke again.
How was I to protect her if I would be the cause of her impending death? Mother had told me before not to take my visions at face value but, could there be any other explanation for what I had seen?
Not only did my premonition imply I would be the culprit behind her doom, but it also meant that even if I tried to avoid it, my actions would allow for it to happen.
The safest option was for me to completely detach myself from her life. Although being her roommate would make it difficult and obvious enough for her to call me out on it.
It didn’t mean, by any case, that it was the choice I preferred. However, my desires mattered so little in comparison to the possibility to save Enid that I was okay with them being crushed under destiny’s cruel, and absolutely unforgiving fist.
“Do not make it an habit of having him visit our room while I’m there.” I silently hoped she didn’t invite him at all.
I tried making peace with it in my mind; I would rather have her stay my roommate and best friend than not have her at all. It did make me wonder about how much would I be able to tolerate before I simply tore my chest open and placed my bleeding heart on Enid’s hands.
“Of course! You won’t even notice when he comes.” She reassured me.
“Well, it looks like we’re done with this arm!” She gestured for me to put the blouse back on. “Was it as bad as you thought it would be?”
Enid's finger lingered on the gauze for half a second, I catalogued the pressure, the exact sensation of her pads on my skin as if it were evidence I might need later.
“It was… adequate.” For someone who so frequently indulges in writing, I have found myself lacking the necessary vocabulary to express how I’m feeling more than often. Especially when Enid is involved.
“Are you being soft on me, Addams?” Enid added.
Pink and blue strand slipped across her cheek like a deliberate defiance to the monochrome I would once had demanded of the room.
“I have limits, even for you, Sinclair.”
“There you go, that’s more like the Wednesday I know. Though I don’t mind it when you’re nice to me.”
For the moment I shall allow the yearning to gnaw at my insides. I would decidedly not become one of the Addams felled by a broken heart. It seemed like an utterly pathetic way of dying, or so would I have thought before meeting who I deem my first and last love.
The premonition tightened its hold on my chest, each passing heartbeat reminding me the possibility of my presence alone provoking her end.
I was certain Enid would not appreciate losing her roommate so soon; she had only just saved my life last spring. Therefore, I would fight fangs and claws to stay alive, and hopefully overcome this gut-wrenching despair.
And so this hellish nightmare began.