Chapter Text
The thing about scars is that they never really go away.
Even if they physically heal and fade, there are still some reminders of their previous presence.
An itch, spontaneous soreness, or mental wounds accompanying the trauma.
Some people would go as far as to call them badges of honor, proof of the chaos that one had faced and survived. But for Enid Sinclair, all they reminded her of was the living hell of disappointment and pain that had been her life for the past several years.
Enid knew about scars.
Knew that some were physical, like those that she hid under long sleeves and heavy sweaters, reminders of horrors that Enid longed to forget though she knew that was impossible.
And she knew some were something else.
Invisible, etched by words from those who should have loved her unconditionally; they settled up on her soul, marking her with a constant reminder of her failures. Ever echoing at the back of Enid's mind like unwelcome poltergeists, leering and judging no matter where she was. Reminding her that she was different.
A disappointment.
Now Enid found herself sitting on a plane going to Vermont. Going three thousand and some miles from home to some boarding school that her mother hoped either helped her finally ‘wolf out' or at the very least kept her out of the way until she turned eighteen and could legally be expelled from the family pack, marking her a lone wolf. That thought alone terrified her.
What horrors would she face at this new place? This ‘Nevermore Academy’?
It might not sound like one of the summer camps she had been forced to attend the previous years, however, she was sure it was similar. After all, why would her mom pay this much money just to send her to a school for outcasts?
Glancing out the window, she tried to ignore the tightness forming in her chest; an invisible but familiar sensation, as though a boa constrictor had wound its way around her heart and lungs, threatening to kill her at any moment. She had to calm down before her mom noticed.
Before she managed to embarrass her mom in some way. Again.
“Three things you can see, Enid," she reminded herself, using a method she had read once on the Internet.
Lights on the ground.
Guy in the red shirt.
My water bottle.
“ Two things you can smell."
That lady's perfume.
Strawberry jello.
"Okay Enid, focus. What can you feel?" she whispered to herself, praying her mom didn't hear.
My fuzzy sweater.
Enid took a deep breath as she listed things off, trying to ground herself in the present before everything spiraled out of control. Before she could appear weak.
She was just glad that her mom was sitting two aisles up. She could hear her now.
“Stop being a sniveling ball of fluff. You're a werewolf for God's sake!”
Though Enid couldn't help but feel like she was being a big baby about this. It can't be worse than Camp Adal.
Her internal pep talk did nothing to settle her nerves as the thought brought phantoms of pain along the scars littering her body. What if it was worse?
Wasn't this a school for all outcasts? What if their tactics didn't just involve werewolves but other sorts as well? How could she stand up against a vampire? A gorgon?
These were the thoughts that haunted her even long after she had disembarked the plane and had been shown to her dorm, one she would be sharing with someone that, judging from the decor already put up, was either truly colorblind or had a penchant for monochrome.
As she glanced around the room she made mental notes of the taxidermied rodents on one shelf and the ancient typewriter that sat on her roommate's desk.
Okay she's either really weird or really into the dark academia aesthetic, Enid thought, suppressing a shudder.
She glanced down at the single box that her dad had managed to convince her mom to let her ship ahead.
Maybe I should start unpacking? Who knows how long Mom will be, she thought, the gravity of the whole ordeal finally catching up to her and a lump forming in her throat.
However, before she could she was called away to discuss some things with the Principal, her mother having left as soon as the papers were signed.
_____
Wednesday could smell something oddly floral coming from her dorm as soon as she had returned from fencing practice. It wasn't a wholly unpleasant scent. No, if anything it reminded her of her mother's greenhouse. However it was different.
New.
A variable that instantly put her ill at ease and reminded her all too much of the fact that she had basically—once again—been lied to.
This time by family .
Opening the door she was surprised to find Thing busy rummaging through boxes labeled decor, littering the floor with brightly colored banners and stacks of decorative pillows and cushions.
“It looks like a rainbow has thrown up in here.” she stated, quickly turning her attention away from the brightly colored area and focusing on putting her foil away before her eyes could begin to hurt and the familiar discomfort settled into her bones.
“You're just jealous that no one decorated for you when you arrived." She heard Things tap out in code and she debated throwing one of her daggers at him, though decided against it.
“I would have torched it if they had. Besides, who does that? Other than you of course, though one must wonder if you have been permanently damaged from all your escapades,” Wednesday retorted, moving to her desk so that her back would be to the brightly colored mess until she had time to adjust.
“If hell exists this is my version of it,” she thought bitterly, despite some sort of curiosity striking inside her at just who her roommate was and what made her the exception to the ‘ must have applications in before the deadline’ rule.
After all, there had to be some reason for Principal Weems to make an exception.
Whatever, she won't be my problem. Whatever Weems has gotten herself into she can deal with. I have more important things to do than worry about some drivel.