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It started, as most things did, with a comment.
“Bitch.”
“Hmm?” Tyler hummed from the other side of the sofa, preoccupied with playing Mario Kart on his console that he bought the previous week.
It was a quiet afternoon, a lovely respite from the downpour that had been terrorising the town since autumn moved back into Jericho. Wednesday remembered enjoying rainy days better as a child, but she supposed that was because the adult body wasn’t meant to endure the same things as a child’s.
She was no longer the indefatigable person who could chase a thin trail all the way to the killer for days on end. She no longer possessed the same flexibility that allowed her to par with Bianca in fencing. She could no longer lie in bed and fall right asleep, and wake up feeling rested and recharged for the busy day ahead.
But in spite of all the changes in her physical body, there was one thing that she kept from her youth, and that was her boundless imagination. It was the place that gave her new avenues to explore for her next novels, something that kept her mind sharp and active, always racing to the exhilarating conclusion before others could catch a whiff of what was happening.
So when Wednesday opened the newspaper that afternoon, the last thing she expected to see was criticism of her book. Wednesday stared at the page, her jaw ticking in anger.
“Some illiterate columnist gave my new novel a bad review,” Wednesday said, “She calls it a bad influence on children. She’s worried that they may think that violence is the answer to everything.”
“Huh,” Tyler said after a beat, still busy trying to drive Mario off the Rainbow Road. “That’s too bad, it’s her loss.”
“Normally, you’d be right. But this time, it’s my loss.” Wednesday paused, looking up from the paper. “My book sales are already down thirty-five percent.”
That finally got Tyler’s attention. He paused his game, and from the corner of her eye Wednesday could see that he was trailing behind the pack at a miserable eleventh out of twelve. He set aside his console to scoot over and envelope her in a hug, burying his face into her hair.
“I’m sorry to hear that, baby.” Tyler crooned.
Wednesday gripped his hand in warning, turning her head to dislodge his face so their eyes could meet. “What did I say about calling me baby?”
“Not to do it.”
“What did you just do?”
“Call you baby.” Tyler grinned. “I didn’t forget, I just wanted to cheer you up by getting you annoyed at me.”
“Why?”
“Because you never stay annoyed at me for long.”
Wednesday considered this for a moment. “You’re right. It’s a mistake I will be correcting immediately.”
Tyler’s grin widened and Wednesday was made vaguely aware of the urge she had to wipe it off his face. With a kiss, probably, but striking fear in his heart was a tempting option as well.
“So who is it? This dumb columnist.” Tyler asked, leaning against Wednesday to get a better view of the paper.
“Doctor Kinbott. She’s the new therapist that Xavier’s been seeing since he got thrown in jail.”
“Wednesday,” Tyler deadpanned, “you put him in jail.”
“It was an accident.”
“An intentional accident.”
“An accident all the same.”
Tyler flopped onto Wednesday’s lap, looking up at her from under the newspaper. “So what’re we gonna do? Surely there has to be something we can do to change her mind.” Tyler paused, “I’m thinking about blackmail.”
“No.”
“Arson?”
“No.” Wednesday folded the paper, placing it on Tyler’s stomach. “No blackmail, no arson. They can be traced back to us easily. I’m already on thin ice with your father.”
“But.. you’re always on thin ice with him.”
“It’s at a breaking point after the incident with Xavier. Our family lawyer has also advised me to lay low for the time being, or to let Uncle Fester handle anything in the foreseeable future instead.”
“Are you going to?”
“Of course not.” Wednesday said, running her hand through Tyler’s hair. “I’ll get revenge on her one day, it’s just a matter of time.”
Kinbott’s criticism got filtered out of Wednesday’s mind, along with the revenge plan that was filled away in the log book to be revisited years later. So when Wednesday unfolded the newspaper two mornings later to the headline, ‘LOCAL THERAPIST KILLED IN OWN GARAGE: Brutal Disembowelment Shocks Town’, she was so disappointed that the only thing she could say was, “Oh.”
“Hmm?” Tyler was sprawled on their sofa, still losing at Mario Kart.
“She’s dead,” Wednesday said.
Instead of asking who died, Tyler simply nodded. “Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p’, which was how Wednesday knew that Tyler had done it.
Wednesday folded back the newspaper and laid it on the armrest as she got off the sofa, walking towards the open kitchen at the back.
The quad on ice that Tyler made for her stood with beads of moisture sticking stubbornly to its glass, glimmering in the sunlight pouring in from the windows. Wednesday took a moment to sip on the coffee appreciatively, setting it down as she reached across the island to the wooden knife block.
Wednesday pulled out a sleek knife, one that she had sharpened not a week ago. Oh, this was the knife that Tyler had bought for her two years ago. It had her name engraved on it, too, something that pleased Wednesday. She ran her finger parallel along the body of the blade, admiring the glint on the edge of the knife. She always did love her knives sharp.
Wednesday aimed it at Tyler’s head.
The knife whizzed by Tyler’s head, narrowly missing his temple, and embedded itself in the wall in front of him right next to their TV. All intentional, of course. Wednesday would’ve never thrown such a bad shot if she really wanted to redecorate the white rug with smatterings of Tyler’s brains.
Tyler startled, dropping his game console in his scramble off the sofa. He turned around with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open, staring at her like she had renewed the fear of God in him.
Good. He deserved to be afraid.
“Holy crap!” Tyler gasped, “Wednesday! What the hell–?”
“You stupid dog.” Wednesday snapped. “You killed Kinbott.”
Tyler froze. His gaze bounced around the room for a moment before it stopped as realisation dawned on him. “Wednesday,” Tyler raised his hands placatingly, taking cautious steps towards her like he was approaching a feral animal. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“What? It doesn’t look like you killed Kinbott in revenge for her poor review of my novel?”
Tyler froze again, averting his gaze as he thought. “Okay, so maybe it is what it looks like,” Tyler said casually before turning serious again, “but, I swear Wednesday, I did it for you.”
Wednesday flung another knife at Tyler. Tyler ducked instantly, a skill learnt with years of experience, and the spinning knife dug itself into the wall above the TV.
“Do you really expect me to believe that? That you did it for me?” Wednesday spat, gripping onto the edge of the island counter. “Is that why you acted on your own without consulting me? Without involving me?”
Tyler blinked, lowering his hands. “Wait.. that’s what you’re upset about?”
“You also killed her in the same way that you killed those people eleven years ago. Thanks to your stupidity, the town will think that their favourite disembowelment monster is back. It took us eleven years to bury that case, and one night of your impulsiveness to revive that memory again.”
“.. Oh.” Tyler dropped his gaze. “I.. didn’t think about that.”
“Of course you didn’t, because if you did, you’d have spoken to me about it before you did anything.”
Tyler’s eyes started drooping, brows slanting in remorse as his shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry, Wednesday. I..” a pained sigh, “I wanted to do something nice for you, but.. I’m sorry.”
Tyler looked so guilt-ridden that it was making Wednesday feel guilty for being so harsh with him.
She could see Tyler excitedly sneaking out of their house in the middle of the night, diligently undressing and hiding his clothes in the forest before he transformed and hunted down Kinbott, turning her into the human equivalent of shredded cheese at her garage. She could see the way he changed back before making his way home, careful to take a quick and quiet shower to wash off the stench of blood and dirt from his body. She could see the way that he slipped back into their bed, sliding his arms under hers to press their bodies closer together.
Tyler killed Kinbott because he wanted to do something nice for her. It was a begrudgingly heartwarming thought, but good intentions mattered little when the mess could send him back to Jericho in cuffs. The town only knew of one Hyde, and they had locked her away in a mental institute for years, decades. It didn’t matter if Tyler no longer had a master, or if Tyler’s Hyde had been tamed for years. Hydes were mysterious and dangerous, and the town wouldn’t hesitate to put another one away.
They could take Tyler away from her if he was found out.
Her fingers unclenched and her arms fell by her side. She took rigid steps that led her to Tyler, standing in front of him without touching him.
“I’m not angry with you.”
“You’re not?” Tyler asked, hopeful.
“No. I’m furious with you,” Wednesday said. Tyler’s face fell. “But we’ll fix this.”
A glimmer of hope slipped back into Tyler’s eyes. The corners of his lips began to turn upward. “So what do we do now?”
“We don’t,” Wednesday said, “We wait for them to come to us.”
It might have been a prescient thing to say, if Wednesday didn’t know this from getting into trouble with the local law enforcement everywhere she went.
But she was right, because Sheriff Galpin came knocking on their door two days later looking worse for wear. His uniform was soaked at the sleeves, and as he stood with sheets of rain spraying against his back, Wednesday thought he had never looked more miserable than he did now.
Wednesday’s relationship with the sheriff was simple at best, and complicated at worst. It was simple because it was a mutual dislike. Sheriff Galpin never liked Wednesday from the get go, even when she was on her best behaviour, and Wednesday never liked the sheriff after she had seen the way that he treated Tyler.
And it was for the same reason their relationship was simple, that it was complicated: because of their mutual dislike.
Wednesday was there for every time that Tyler talked about his mother. She listened to Tyler’s recounting of his mother’s better days, she listened to Tyler’s shorter stories of his mother’s last days before she disappeared, she watched as Tyler tried not to cry in front of her, choosing to blink away the wetness in his eyes and look away in shame.
So Wednesday was there for every time that Tyler talked about his mother. But if there was one thing that Wednesday had learnt from all the time she spent with Tyler, it was that her presence and comfort could not replace what his father could have given him. She did not know his mother, and there were silences that should have been filled with someone else’s thoughts and memories of her, something that Wednesday could not provide. She never fully appreciated the way that her family cemented their places in her life, sometimes to the extent of invading her privacy, but Wednesday never had to beg for their love the way that Tyler did. Tyler’s father should have been there, but he was not, and that Wednesday could never forgive.
And this was what led Wednesday to choose the greeting that would grate on the sheriff’s patience most.
“Father-in-law,” Wednesday said, laying her hands on each other. “What an unpleasant surprise.”
Sheriff Galpin sighed. “Addams.”
“‘Wednesday’ is fine. We are family now, afterall.”
Sheriff Galpin sighed again, deeply this time. He took off his hat and looked down at the faded colour, where sunlight exposure had worn it down over the years. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that you were trying to upset me.”
“Then I’d say that you don’t know better.”
They stared at each other for a long moment before Sheriff Galpin looked over her shoulder, gesturing inside with the hand holding the hat. “May I come in?”
Wednesday pretended to ponder on the question before stepping back. Sheriff Galpin lowered his head in thanks, walking in quickly before Wednesday could change her mind. He waited around awkwardly until Wednesday had finished closing the door so that she could lead him in. They walked past the living room in silence, the sheriff trailing behind her a few steps as he surveyed the place.
“Is Tyler here?”
“He’s making coffee in the kitchen. Would you like a cup?”
“If it isn’t too much trouble.”
Wednesday stepped into the kitchen, where Tyler was setting her coffee on the table with a proud smile on his face. When he noticed her from the corner of his eye, he looked up and beamed at her, and Wednesday was momentarily transported to the Weathervane where they had spent so many days exchanging looks over the coffee machine.
But when the sheriff’s footsteps grew louder, Wednesday cleared her throat. “Tyler, your father is here to visit.”
Tyler dropped his smile the moment that his father came into view. “Dad,” Tyler said stiffly. He looked at Wednesday, nonplussed. “I.. didn’t know you were dropping by. It’s a pretty far drive.”
“Me neither,” the sheriff said, walking into the kitchen and pulling out the chair at the table. He sat down heavily, planting his hands on his knees as he did. “Especially since I’m working on a new case– I’m pretty sure you know which one,” Sheriff Galpin looked pointedly at Wednesday before continuing, “But I have a few questions to ask, and I thought that the both of you might know a thing or two.”
“Oh,” Tyler said in such a poor attempt at feigning surprise that Wednesday would have preferred he didn’t try at all. It was a dead giveaway that he was nervous, and the sheriff would have known it if he hadn’t been such an absent father.
Wednesday knew exactly what Tyler was thinking about, because the same thought had occurred to her minutes ago when the sheriff turned up at their door. And despite being a serial-killing monster, Tyler still got anxious and jumpy when it came to telling the truth. It was an endearing trait when it didn’t involve crimes they were actively trying to hide, but since it couldn’t be helped, Wednesday knew that she had to take control of the situation before Tyler said something that couldn’t be salvaged.
“Tyler, please make your father a cup of coffee,” Wednesday said. It was the right thing to say, because Tyler fell right back into his comfort zone.
“Right. Is that one shot or two?”
“Two.” the sheriff looked at the hat in his hands. He dusted the top before placing it in the middle of the table.
Tyler nodded and went back to the coffee machine, busying himself with the portafilter while Wednesday sat herself across the sheriff. She drew her coffee closer to her, picking it up with a nonchalant, dainty grip.
“How can we help?”
The coffee grinder whirred in the background. Wednesday took a small sip.
“It’s not going to be an easy question to ask.” the sheriff closed his hands together, frowning at the table as he paused. Tyler looked over his shoulder at Wednesday uneasily. “While investigating, I came across some information that I think you might be able to corroborate for me.”
This time, Tyler looked back at Wednesday in panic. Spit it out already, Wednesday thought.
“I understand that you’re good friends with Xavier Thorpe.”
That was the question he wanted to ask?
“I’m not,” Wednesday said flatly. Sheriff Galpin blinked in surprise before furrowing his brows.
“Okay, I understand that you’re friends with him.”
“I’m not.” Wednesday repeated.
Sheriff Galpin wiped a hand down his face exasperatedly. “I understand that you know each other. Does that sound right to you?”
Wednesday leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Barely.”
Sheriff Galpin levelled Wednesday a dry look before continuing, “I understand that you and Xavier Thorpe know each other. Have you seen him recently?”
“No.”
“Have you been in contact with him?”
“Thankfully, I haven’t.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“He hasn’t been too happy with me ever since the last time that he was sent to jail.”
The sheriff’s pen halted abruptly. He looked up at her over his notepad, raising a brow. “You mean the time you called the entire police department on him?”
Wednesday picked up her cup. “I hope you don’t blame every citizen for a wrong tipoff. After all, you were the one who made the final call.”
Sheriff Galpin opened his mouth to reply, but Tyler walked over with his cup of coffee, placing it in front of him.
“Two shots, as requested,” Tyler said, sitting on the chair next to Wednesday and swinging an arm over the back of Wednesday’s chair. Sheriff Galpin nodded in thanks before turning his attention back to Wednesday.
“Have you heard anything about him from your friends?”
“No.”
“Nothing about any strange behaviour?”
“No.”
“Nobody mentioned any odd plans he had?”
“No.” Wednesday paused, putting down her cup. “Why are you asking me about Xavier when you can bring him in for questioning yourself? It certainly sounds like you have the evidence you need.”
“It’s not that simple,” Sheriff Galpin said dryly. “Nothing has been confirmed just yet.”
“But Xavier is a suspect.”
“He’s a person of interest.”
Wednesday hummed. She put a hand on the table, drumming her fingers against the top in thought.
Interesting. Tyler’s father must have gotten hold of her patient records and come across the files on Xavier’s sessions. He must have found something that Xavier said alarming enough to make the two hour drive to their house and ask them about him.
Under other circumstances, this was where her interest in the case ended. She knew who the culprit was– he was sitting next to her with a worried look that could be mistaken as being disturbed about the case in general. But that was just normal Tyler. For all his bad lying and acting, there were moments when his genuine expressions were better than anything Wednesday could have prepared him for, and this was one of them.
But Wednesday also knew that her history of being over-zealous in solving cases would come back and bite her if she didn’t show the same level of interest in this case. Or at least, if she didn’t have some unsolicited theories to share with the sheriff. She needed to act like she would in any other case. She needed to offer the sheriff ideas that he would shoot down instantly.
“Peculiar, isn’t it? This disembowelment case,” she said at last. The sheriff stopped drinking his coffee, looking at Wednesday in surprise. “It’s almost like the one eleven years ago, except that it didn’t happen in the woods this time. Could it be the same person from eleven years ago?” Wednesday mused. “Then again, there was no mention of any missing body parts. Maybe it was a copycat instead?”
Sheriff Galpin put down his cup firmly. “Leave it, Addams. Stay out of it.” the sheriff wagged a finger at them. “Both of you. I don’t want to see either of you at the crime scene.”
Bait taken.
A shrill ring pierced through the air. Sheriff Galpin fumbled with his pants pockets before retrieving his phone. He cut them a stern look before turning away to answer the phone. “Yeah? Now? Alright, I’ll be there.”
The sheriff stood up, quickly throwing back the rest of his coffee before pocketing his phone.
“Leaving already?” Wednesday asked. The sheriff nodded.
“Something urgent came up.”
Tyler stood up as well, looking anxiously at Wednesday. “We’ll see you off.”
Wednesday couldn’t care less about sending off the sheriff, but she didn’t want him loitering around their house. Besides, she wasn’t going to give the sheriff a chance to upset Tyler with yet another one of his careless and blunt remarks. Better to chase him away with her presence as soon as possible.
“Yes,” Wednesday agreed belatedly, getting up slowly. “We’ll see you off.”
Sheriff Galpin looked between them sceptically for a few seconds before shaking his head, declining to ask. He picked up his hat and turned around, ushered to the door by Wednesday and Tyler with a heavy cloud of silence hanging over them. Sheriff Galpin opened his car door but stopped short of getting in.
“I mean it,” he barked, narrowing his eyes at them, “I don’t want to see either of you snooping around.”
They watched Sheriff Galpin’s car pull out of the sheltered driveway before Wednesday spoke. “We’re visiting Xavier.”
Tyler turned to her sharply, brows slanting quizzically. “What? Now?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Why? Wednesday wished she knew the answer, too. But the truth was that she didn’t. Her visions were unreliable and dangerous, but no one told her about the feeling that seized her every now and then, the unshakable feeling of knowing something without fully grasping at it. Some people called it a gut feeling, others an instinct, but Wednesday doubted that there was a name for the feeling that gripped her.
It was how she had known that Eugene would be alright after that near-fatal attack eleven years ago. It was how she had known that Principal Weems wasn’t the perpetrator of the attacks, in spite of her suspicious behaviour and cryptic words. It was how she had known to let fly her arrow that night in the woods, knowing without a doubt that it would find a home in the heart of Laurel Gates and save the battered and bruised boy in the cave.
“I don’t know,” Wednesday said honestly. “I have a feeling about visiting him now.”
Tyler’s face softened. “Is it the same feeling as..?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Tyler said, “Let’s go.”
The drive to Xavier’s house took them an hour. Rain came down like curtains fluttering in the wind, with each layer sweeping across the windscreen one after the other. Despite the visit from his father earlier, Tyler was in relatively high spirits. If it wasn’t evident in the smile etched onto his face, it was clear from his soft humming over a tune on the radio. Wednesday allowed herself to soak in the good mood, pretending to look at the road ahead when she was secretly observing Tyler nod along to the music.
Xavier’s house was bigger than theirs, something that Wednesday thought ridiculous considering Xavier’s relationship status hadn’t changed since his breakup with Bianca. But despite the size of the house, Wednesday thought that Xavier must not have had many visitors, because Tyler had to press the buzzer four times before he opened the door aggressively, eyes narrowing at Tyler instantly.
“You.” Xavier hissed. Tyler blinked, pointing to himself.
“Me?”
“Xavier,” Wednesday said.
Confusion dispersed his frustration, and Xavier suddenly seemed mellow, docile. He looked between them warily, the crease between his brows deepening the longer he did.
“Wednesday,” Xavier said with a nervous chuckle. He ran a hand through his hair before folding his arms across his chest. “What brings you here?”
“We read about what happened to Kinbott in the papers.” Wednesday explained. “We’re here to offer Tyler’s condolences.”
Tyler did a double-take. “Our condolences.”
“No. Just his.”
Xavier’s confusion snowballed into incredulous disbelief. His eyes went back and forth between them, and Wednesday could see the cogs in his head turning. He looked ridiculous, lost, flabbergasted. It was a joy to watch Xavier and not throw him a bone, but Wednesday had lost her patience for stupidity before she graduated from Nevermore.
“Are you going to invite us in?” she said expectantly.
Xavier jolted into action. He shook away the haze in his mind and opened the door wider, swinging his arms to welcome them in. “Yeah, I mean, come in.”
Xavier’s house was everything that Wednesday imagined a bachelor’s house to be: barren, messy and unpresentable. It was a big and spacious house, but there was nothing about it that felt lived in except for the accumulated trash and art canvases around. It reminded Wednesday of the time she had snuck into Xavier’s room and art shack. It was also unorganised then, but it was never disorganised.
Although Wednesday assumed that was partly because Xavier was going through a difficult time, what with the going to jail and the sudden, brutal murder of his new therapist.
The door closed with a loud bang that rivalled the clap of thunder outside. Xavier combed his fingers through his hair again, his long sweater fanning out behind him as he strolled towards them.
“Can I get you anything?” Xavier asked.
“A cup of coffee would be nice,” Tyler said.
“I wasn’t asking you.”
“Oh.” Tyler mumbled. He scrunched up his face dejectedly and slotted his hands in his pockets, sulking at the floor, and something in Wednesday snapped.
This was the man who would transform into the monster he hated to permanently get rid of someone she detested, and yet here he was letting someone else walk over him. He didn’t get offended or insulted, didn’t even try to stand up for himself. He just took it lying down, but Wednesday would not have that. Not in a million years.
Wednesday whipped around to face Xavier, a white hot ball of fury burning in her chest.
“Don’t you think it’s rude to deny a simple cup of coffee to someone who drove an hour in this rain, just to offer you his condolences? I have had to host some rather repugnant people myself recently, and not once did I ever decline to offer them a drink.” She raised her head to meet Xavier’s gaze, staring him down. “And here I thought hospitality ran in the Thorpe family.”
Xavier closed his mouth, cheeks flushing red. He averted his gaze for a few seconds. “Do you want a cup as well?”
“No. Just one for Tyler.”
Xavier’s eyes darted to Tyler before he walked away, presumably in the direction of the kitchen. Wednesday and Tyler watched Xavier disappear behind the walls before Tyler turned to Wednesday, pink dusting his cheeks.
“You didn’t need to do that,” Tyler said, flustered, “I didn’t really want that cup of coffee. It’s fine.”
“No. It’s not fine,” Wednesday said firmly, “It’s me he’s angry with, but you he’s taking it out on. I won’t have it.”
Tyler smiled uneasily at her, cupping a cheek with a gentle hand that slid down the length of her neck to rest at the junction between her neck and shoulder. “Guess I should thank you for defending my honour.”
Tyler’s smile was strange. It reminded Wednesday of the expression on his face earlier, when Tyler stood up and told his father that he would see him off. He looked hesitant, unsure of himself. He looked uncomfortable in his own skin, a sight that Wednesday hadn’t seen since that night in the woods when she had broken the bond between him and Laurel Gates forever.
She filed the thought away for the moment. There were more important things at hand. “Thank me by stalling him.”
Tyler blinked. “Um.. what?”
“Tell Xavier I went to the restroom. Keep him distracted for as long as you can.”
“You’re not going to wait with me? Where’re you– where’re you going?”
“I don’t know yet,” Wednesday said, her gaze drifting behind Tyler where a long corridor led deep into the house. “But something in there is calling me.”
Tyler followed the trail of Wednesday’s gaze, staring into the darkness of the corridor before he looked back at her with lines bracketing his mouth. “I’ll try my best.”
They split up quickly, partly because Wednesday knew that to linger any longer would be dangerous. Tyler was never good at keeping to the plot, something he admitted to privately when she cleaned his wounds that night eleven years ago after destroying the chains that tied him to Laurel Gates.
Wednesday crept along the corridor, wandering deeper and deeper. There was something in there pulling on the invisible thread on her heart, a call that she could not refuse, and it brought her to the nondescript room near the end of the corridor. Nothing about it stood out, and that heightened her interest. What was it about this room that drew her all the way from the other end of the town?
She put her hand on the doorknob and turned. The knob caught halfway, making an obnoxious click sound that reverberated through the empty corridor. It was locked, but there was a reason why Wednesday still wore bobby pins in her hair. You never know when you’d need to trespass.
Wednesday removed two bobby pins and straightened them out, kneeling on the floor as she made quick work of picking the lock. Admittedly, it had been awhile since the last time she’d done this, but muscle memory stayed even if everything else had faded.
It took a few seconds longer than usual to get the job done, but Wednesday wasn’t complaining. She tried the doorknob again, and it rotated all the way before the door swung open. Bingo. She was in, and all this in good time. She could hear Xavier’s ancient coffee machine still coughing out coffee in spurts. This was almost too easy.
Distracted, Wednesday pulled out a bobby pin the wrong way, and the soft snap couldn’t have been louder than the thunder that roared an hour ago. Wednesday stumbled, catching herself with one hand as she stared in horror at the broken bobby pin in her grip. Her eyes drifted up to the doorknob where the little tail end of the bobby pin was hidden inside. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
This was bad. This was really bad. There was no way that the door could lock the door again, not with the stupid pin lodged inside at an odd angle. Fuck. Fucking hell.
“Where’s Wednesday?” Xavier’s voice floated from the living room.
“Umm, she needed to use the restroom.” Tyler replied unconvincingly. Well, Tyler did say he’d try his best.
Wednesday slipped inside the room and pushed the door shut. The room was stale, each breath that Wednesday took smelt of dust and paint. The room was cloaked in darkness, but the sliver of light that pried through the gap in the door was enough for Wednesday to make out the outline of the light switch. She flicked the switch and closed her eyes as light poured across the room.
Pictures of the Hyde, portraits of the crime. Gripping Kinbott by the neck, sinking its claws into her, howling at her. These were paintings of Kinbott’s death, of Tyler’s culpability. Evidence that another Hyde existed in Jericho.
Fuck. Wednesday had forgotten about Xavier’s psychic abilities. Xavier must have seen Tyler’s Hyde at the scene of the crime, and all this was evidence of what had transpired that night. But how much did Xavier see? Did he see Tyler transform into the Hyde? How much did he know?
The door slammed open with a loud bang, spilling light across the room and interrupting Wednesday’s train of thought.
“You’re not supposed to be in here!” Xavier shouted. Wednesday spun around as Xavier stormed towards her, his hair flying into his face. “Did you visit me just to sneak around? Is that all you came here to do?”
Tyler trailed behind Xavier helplessly. “I’m sorry, I tried to–” Tyler stopped, taking stock of the paintings in the room. He squinted, baffled. “Woah. Wait, that’s–”
“Suspicious.” Wednesday interrupted, knowing fully well that Tyler was about to announce it was him. “It’s suspicious.”
Xavier wrinkled his nose, puzzled. “What? What’re you talking about?”
“I didn’t visit you to sneak around, not initially anyway. I came here to tell you that Tyler’s father dropped by our house earlier.” Wednesday explained coolly. “He asked about you, actually.”
“Wait– Tyler’s father– the sheriff?” Xavier asked, pushing back his hair. He folded his arms across his chest, pacing back and forth. “What did he– what did he ask about?”
“He wanted to know if you had been displaying any kind of strange behaviour lately, if you had any odd plans.” Wednesday looked meaningfully at the easel nearest to her, where a painting of Tyler ripping into Kinbott stood proudly, before turning her gaze back on Xavier. “I wonder what he counts as suspicious.”
Xavier rubbed a hand over his mouth, breathing in deeply. Wednesday could see that he was on the verge of breaking, all he needed was a little push. Thankfully, she was feeling generous today.
“You’re a suspect, Xavier,” Wednesday said.
“Actually, he’s a person of interest.” Tyler corrected.
“I can explain,” Xavier began. He sucked in another breath, looking to the ceiling as if the answers to his unspoken questions would all be there. “These are just paintings of the same dream that’s been haunting me recently. When I close my eyes I see the same scene over and over again. I can’t block it out, so I just.. come in here and paint it. To get it out of my head. But I didn’t kill her, okay? I’m not some monster who just goes around killing people.”
A part of Wednesday bristled. The word sounded vulgar coming out of Xavier’s mouth. She was suddenly aware that she only liked it when she called Tyler a monster. No one else was allowed to make fun of Tyler, and the small, indignant part of Wednesday wanted to lash out at Xavier again, to make him take back his words and apologise to Tyler properly this time.
But that would derail the conversation. It was more important to extract the pertinent information while she still had the upper hand, before the conversation went sideways with all kinds of other topics.
Biting her tongue, Wednesday asked, “What else did you see in your dreams? Did you see where it went?”
“Nothing else.” Xavier shook his head regretfully. Good. “Everything I painted is pretty much it. Just the same scene of the monster tearing her apart.”
“Hmm.”
“You’re not..” Xavier’s eyes flickered to Tyler and then to Wednesday. “You’re not going to tell him about this, are you?”
“I don’t know,” Wednesday said, noncommittal. “Why did he ask about you in the first place? What did you discuss with Kinbott that would make you a suspect?”
“Person of interest.” Tyler corrected again.
Xavier swallowed thickly, looking up at the ceiling again. “We talked about lots of things. Just.. we talked about you.” Xavier said tightly. “About how you got me thrown in jail.”
“It was an accident.” Tyler clarified.
“An intentional accident.”
“An accident all the same.”
Xavier looked at them incredulously. “Are you guys even hearing yourselves right now?”
“Yes, and please continue. What else did you talk about with her?”
Xavier sighed in frustration, shrugging aggressively. “We worked through some stuff, okay? She was helping me manage my anger. I guess I said some stuff, I don’t know.”
“Like what?”
“Just.. stuff. I just– maybe I said that I wished I could hurt some people the way that they hurt me, okay? But I didn’t mean it. I was just angry. I just said a bunch of stuff that helped me feel better, but I didn’t mean any of it.”
Now Wednesday understood. Xavier must have said something even more serious during his sessions with Kinbott, something that would have put him on Sheriff Galpin’s radar. What, did he mention murdering someone? Perhaps he talked about how he wanted to hurt them?
Whatever it was, Wednesday had no interest in investigating further. Things were playing out well for them. The sheriff’s attention was on Xavier, and Xavier hadn’t even the slightest idea that the monster he kept dreaming of was Tyler.
“So you’re not going to tell him, are you?” Xavier asked, eyeing Wednesday warily.
It was the best case scenario. There was no need for her to intervene, even if the idea of sending him back into jail tickled her.
“No,” Wednesday said. Never let it be said that Wednesday didn’t do some charity every now and then. “We’re not going to tell the sheriff anything.”
That should have been the end of it. None of this was Wednesday’s problem anymore– not until they came knocking on their door, looking for Tyler, anyway. But as the universe would have it, it did turn out to be Wednesday’s problem.
Or rather, it turned out to be a problem that she created.
Wednesday and Tyler were sitting on their sofa again. Tyler was next to her, leaning dangerously to the right as if he could prevent his car from swerving off the desert track. He was still losing badly at Mario Kart, but he was currently fighting for eleventh place, and that little bit of improvement, however pathetic, made Wednesday proud of him.
She opened the newspaper, scanning across the usual headlines when something caught her eye.
‘SUSPECT IN CUSTODY: Therapist’s Client Arrested In Connection To Brutal Murder’
That was good, Wednesday thought. The case would close soon and everything would die down.
Then her eyes dipped a little farther south, where a picture of Xavier was attached. Xavier, with his hands behind his back in cuffs, held by the shoulders by a burly-looking policeman. Xavier, led out of his house in the same attire that Wednesday saw him wearing just the other day. Xavier, looking at the camera with mortification, as if the world had wronged him, as if he was just realising that he was set up, again. And it was the same face he wore when he spotted Wednesday the previous time, as he was led into the back of a police car with the sirens screeching.
Suddenly, Wednesday’s body turned to stone as an invisible force gripped her in its fist. She felt it pull her down, dragging her into the unseeable abyss as she fell and fell and fell and–
Wednesday was standing outside Xavier’s art studio, her hand on the door knob. The door was open, thanks to the lock she broke, and the lights in the corridor were on. The place was empty, but Wednesday could hear faint voices drifting from the front of the house. An anxious voice, and the familiar gait of heavy footsteps she had heard not a week ago.
“May we come in to ask a few questions?”
Ah, Tyler’s father was here. Since Xavier had been arrested already, this had to be a vision of the past. Wednesday walked forward, watching Xavier usher the sheriff and his deputy towards his kitchen. But the moment that Xavier turned his back on them, the sheriff motioned to his deputy, pointing towards the corridor where Wednesday was hiding.
Wednesday took a step towards the wall as Sheriff Galpin strolled by her, inspected the area with thinly veiled curiosity and suspicion. Sheriff Galpin tried each door, rattling the doorknobs only to find that every one of them was locked– all except for one.
The door to the art studio gave way without protest, beckoning the sheriff inside with its stale air. Frowning to himself, the sheriff took out his gun and flicked off the safety, carefully pushing the door open further.
And as light from the corridor flooded into the room, Sheriff Galpin’s expression turned from one of astonishment to horror.
Just as swiftly as Wednesday had been thrust into the vision, she was ripped out of it. It always felt like she was being punched back into her body, the overwhelming sensation of everything coming back to her at once. She inhaled sharply, eyes flying open to the sight of Tyler’s worried face swimming into focus.
“Are you okay?” Tyler asked, ghosting his thumb across her cheek. It was then that Wednesday noticed Tyler’s game console on the rug, unpaused, and his arm around her shoulder that prevented her from falling head first onto the table.
“Xavier got arrested,” Wednesday said without preamble. Tyler reeled back, cocking his head to the side as he studied her.
“Okay..?” Tyler murmured, narrowing his eyes quizzically. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand.”
“Xavier’s in jail, and it’s my fault.” Wednesday explained, climbing out of Tyler’s arms. She looked up at Tyler seriously. “I sent him to jail.”
Tyler stared at Wednesday for a long time before he spoke again, a grin splitting his face. “Wednesday, you don’t have to keep blaming yourself for that time you put him in jail.” he cooed, “Not every time that he goes to jail is your fault.”
“Shut up, Tyler. This is literally my fault.”
Wednesday got off the sofa, walking towards the large windows where the constant pitter-patter of raindrops created staccato-like echoes in the room. She crossed her arms and stared at her half-reflection, at the woman scowling at her.
“Wait, this is– this is good, right?” Tyler said, puzzled. From the reflection, Wednesday saw Tyler getting off the sofa, loitering a distance from her as he tried to get his bearings. “A few days later they’ll realise they’ve got the wrong guy and release him, just like the last time. I mean, this is good, right? They’re not even looking in our direction.”
“Yes. I suppose it is.”
“But.. you’re not happy.”
“Getting someone arrested is a lot more satisfying when you really believe that they’re the perpetrators. Turns out, getting someone arrested when they are not isn’t so fun.”
The corners of Tyler’s mouth turned downward. He closed the gap and rested his chin on the crown of her head, wrapping his arms over her lithe frame, pressing his chest to her back.
“Tell me about it?” Tyler asked in a low voice.
They stared out of the window together, watching raindrops race each other down in ever-growing groups.
“Your father visited Xavier to ask a few questions, but he wandered into the house and found the art studio whose door lock I broke. It couldn’t be closed. That’s how your father got in– the door was already opened.”
Tyler grimaced. “That’s not your fault.”
“If I hadn’t insisted on visiting Xavier that afternoon, none of this would have happened. The door would have been locked, and your father would’ve never found it.”
“Yeah, that’s.. still not your fault.” A pause, “Not entirely, anyway.”
Tyler sighed, letting go of Wednesday to spin her around. They regarded each other in silence for a long moment before Tyler squeezed her shoulder, offering her a weak smile.
“Besides, you don’t know that. The police department was already looking into him before any of this happened. For all we know, they were already planning to search his place. Maybe you sped things up, but it doesn’t mean that the blame is all yours.” Tyler shrugged. “But if you still wanna blame yourself, then you’ll have to blame me, too– I did drive us there.”
For a moment, Wednesday was filled with annoyance for Tyler and his cursed ability to make her feel better in any situation. To know what to say, when to say it, how to say it. Wednesday wondered when she had become an open book that he had read a thousand times over, when she had always been a script written in an obsolete language to everyone else.
As if he could read her thoughts and prove her point again, Tyler burst into another smile.
“Not a word,” Wednesday said, enunciating each word. Tyler’s smile widened into a grin.
“Wasn’t gonna say a thing, but now I’m tempted.”
“You’ll sleep on the sofa.”
Tyler regarded her for a few seconds with his amused smile stretching into a smirk. “I could,” Tyler said casually, “but how do you plan to fall asleep without me?”
Wednesday narrowed her eyes, scowling at Tyler without heat. Trust Tyler to bring up the one argument that Wednesday was happy to lose, because he was right– after four years of marriage and eight years of sharing the same bed every night, Wednesday found that she had lost the ability to sleep at will. She could no longer sleep in what used to be her favourite position, facing the ceiling with her arms crossed over each other, palms to her shoulders. It was too rigid, too.. singular. No, Wednesday’s sleeping position had changed into something plural, something that allowed Tyler to share the space she once called sacred.
And it was because of this weakness she’d developed over the years that Wednesday knew Tyler was gone. She woke up calmly, her eyes opening with the knowledge that the space behind her was empty.
She pushed herself upright and swept her hand over his side of the bed. It was still warm, just barely. So he wasn’t gone for long then, and it would be awhile before he returned. Wednesday swung her legs over the side of the bed, making the short walk down to the living room in darkness.
She sat on Tyler’s side of the sofa and crossed her hands on her lap, closing her eyes until she heard the eventual jingle of keys outside the door before a soft creak broke the silence. Wednesday’s eyelids fluttered open slowly as she reached for the lamp switch.
“Most people usually use the back door when they’re trying to sneak back into their house.”
She turned on the lamp, bathing the house in light. Tyler startled, jumping off the floor with a hand to his chest.
“Shit! Wednesday, you scared me.”
“You wouldn’t have to be scared if you didn’t leave the house without telling me.” Wednesday pointed out. Tyler thought about it and nodded in acquiescence.
“Okay, it’s not what it looks like,” he deflected.
“You mean you’re not trying to sneak back into the house after sneaking out to kill someone else the same way you killed Kinbott to prove Xavier’s innocence?”
Tyler paused. “Okay, so maybe it is what it looks like. But I didn’t kill anyone, I promise.”
“I think the blood caking your face begs to differ.”
“It’s not mine.”
“How reassuring,” Wednesday said flatly.
“No, really,” Tyler said, stepping into the light so Wednesday could take a better look. “It belonged to the bear that attacked me.”
Wednesday stared at him, unblinking. “The bear that attacked you.”
“Yeah. It was a big one. Thought it was a werewolf at first, but it turned out to be even scarier.”
Oh, Enid was going to rip him a new one when she heard that. “You killed the bear that attacked you.”
“Yeah.” Tyler nodded. “And then I came back home.”
Home. The house that they’d bought together four years ago, the house that they’d renovated together, the house that they’ve lived in since. Home, the place where Wednesday could wake up everyday to Tyler’s loud snores and his heavy arm draped across her waist. Home, the place where Wednesday’s typewriter would fill the space until Tyler got back from the job he didn’t need anymore, but liked having. Home, the place where Wednesday could stick her cold toes between Tyler’s crossed legs and watch him yelp in surprise.
“You’re filthy,” Wednesday said as her eyes drifted down Tyler’s body, taking stock of his crumpled and muddy clothes, of the scratches and dried blood along his arms and neck. “You’ll dirty our home.”
She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, tugging him along as she headed for the bathroom. They walked through the dark house with the sound of their bare feet against the floor following them. Wednesday turned on the lights and sat Tyler on the edge of the bathtub while she ran him a bath. Then she pulled out a clean towel from the cupboard and wet it with warm water, wringing it before turning to Tyler wordlessly.
The air between them was pensive as Wednesday worked on cleaning Tyler. She dabbed away the dried flecks of blood along the shallow cuts on his arm before moving onto the grime along his fingers, rinsing away the dirt on the towel occasionally as she continued to wipe away traces of the night off Tyler.
“Why did you do it?” Wednesday asked, “He doesn’t like you, and you don’t like him either.”
“I don’t.” Tyler shrugged. “I wasn’t doing it for him, I was doing it for you.”
Wednesday’s eyes flitted up to meet Tyler’s, looking at her with adoration and love, and always with the underlying need for approval.
“You were upset,” Tyler said, “and I didn’t want you to be upset.”
For a moment, Wednesday was transported back to that night at the festival, the night that Tyler had agreed to help her escape from this town. She could almost hear the crowd in the background, shrill laughter clashing with the crackling fireworks taking turns to illuminate the sky in an array of colours. She could see rainbow-coloured neon lights in the shape of the rides, and the spark in Tyler’s nervous smile when she looked up from the manila folder in her hands. Waiting, waiting, waiting.
Everything made sense now. Why Tyler had killed Kinbott, the way his eyes flickered to her when his father was here, the flush on his cheeks when he told her that she didn’t need to berate Xavier for his attitude, the reason why he was now covered in dirt and blood. For some reason, eleven years after they had met and four years after they had wed, Tyler was still trying to impress her. He was still looking for her approval, waiting for her to tell him that she was proud of him and that he had made her happy.
But it baffled Wednesday. For how well Tyler knew her, how could he have missed the most important thing? How could he have forgotten how important he was in her life? How could he have forgotten that she had once been an island that existed in isolation, and was now thriving because he had stopped by and decided to stay?
And it would’ve been endearing, if Kinbott’s dead body wasn’t evidence that the murders of eleven years ago were still unsolved. That there was another Hyde in town that was still roaming about, that Tyler could be taken from her at any moment.
“Stop killing things, Tyler,” Wednesday said at last, evenly, “I know you don’t enjoy it because it reminds you of her.”
Wednesday turned back to the sink, scrubbing away streaks of red and brown before wringing the towel again. She planted her hand along Tyler’s jaw as she wiped away the blood along his nose.
She was no longer the indefatigable person who could chase a thin trail all the way to the killer for days on end. She no longer possessed the same flexibility that allowed her to par with Bianca in fencing. She could no longer lie in bed and fall right asleep and wake up feeling rested and recharged for the busy day ahead.
But her physical body wasn’t the only thing that changed, over the years she had learnt how integral Tyler was to her happiness. Small moments that made up the mosaic of her life. The long drives with pop music and Tyler's humming, head bobbing. The quiet afternoons spent indoors with Tyler laid across her lap, losing at Mario Kart while she read a book. The cup of coffee ready for her every morning, with droplets of condensation racing each other down the side of the glass.
And she wasn’t the only one changing, growing up, growing old. There were lines around Tyler’s face that hadn’t been there four years ago, a tiredness that lingered even in his brightest smiles, the nostalgia that slipped into his eyes every now and then, when Wednesday caught him looking at her like it was a moment he was already revisiting before it was truly over.
They were growing up, growing old, and Wednesday wanted them to do it together.
“I don’t want them to take you away from me,” Wednesday said softly, slowing her movements to a gradual stop. They looked at each other quietly for a long time, in the bubble of their own world. “Do something nice for me by staying.”
Another moment went by before Tyler swallowed, nodding weakly. “Okay.”
It ended, not with a bang or a whimper, but with a comment.
“Interesting.”
“Hmm?” Tyler hummed, still busy losing at Mario Kart. At least this time he was a fierce contender for tenth place.
It was a lazy afternoon, the morning thunderstorm calming into a dull drizzle, with raindrops drumming on their windows like a broken metronome that changed its beat every few seconds. Wednesday and Tyler stretched their legs under the same blanket, lying on opposite ends of the sofa.
“Xavier’s been released,” Wednesday said, eyes skimming across the lengthy article on the front page of the newspaper. “The bear you disembowelled proved that it couldn’t be him, since he was in jail when it happened. They think it’s a bear attack now. They’re calling for hunters to comb the forest around Jericho and advising residents to stay indoors at night.”
“Huh,” Tyler said after a beat, turning his body to the left as he drifted along a curve, “That’s too bad.”
This gave Wednesday pause. She lowered her arms and turned to Tyler, arching a brow. “What is?”
Tyler shrugged. “Xavier being released so soon.”
When Wednesday didn’t reply, Tyler paused his game and looked up, frowning in confusion when he noticed Wednesday’s perplexed and expectant stare. “What?” Tyler said, “You gotta admit, it was funny that you sent him to jail twice. Kinda comical if you ask me.”
Okay, Tyler had a point. It was kind of funny, now that Wednesday was done feeling bad about it.
Sensing a change in her mood, Tyler tossed his game console onto the rug and scooted over to Wednesday. He rested his head on her shoulder while locking their arms together, sighing in contentment as they stared at the wall across them, where the two grooves from the knives Wednesday threw still marked the wall.
“You know,” Tyler began thoughtfully, “It actually looks pretty good. I think it gives our wall some character. What do you think?”
“I think you’re fixing it,” Wednesday said without hesitation.
“What? You don’t agree? I think it’s a great conversation starter.”
“I think you’re still fixing it.”
Wednesday leaned her head against his, snaking her hand under Tyler’s so that she could slip her fingers between his. Even without turning her head, she knew that Tyler was smiling. Not because his palms grew sweaty, or the way that his heart rate sped up a little– because they no longer did– but because she knew Tyler, the only person who knew her as well as she knew him. And as they stared at the wall across them, they both knew that the grooves on their wall would stay.
Outside, the pitter-patter of raindrops continued.