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Death was fate—an inevitable truth that all would eventually face, except for vampires, of course. Nearly everyone you know will one day die, for death is simply part of life. Death could even be beautiful, Wednesday thought. A release from the endless misery of existence.
That was, until she met Enid. Suddenly, she no longer longed for the cold comfort of death. Now, the only solace she craved was found in the arms of her sweet lycanthrope.
But things were growing harder. Wednesday could see it in Enid’s eyes. The light that had once sparkled there had dulled.
Enid was growing sicker. No matter how hard she tried to hide it—with sweet laughs and bright smiles—the truth was undeniable. Her mind had become a prison, one she felt she’d never escape.
See, Wednesday no longer waited upon her emanate death. But Enid couldn’t say the same.
So badly she wanted to fight it, to stay alive. Oh, the people who loved her. The people who depended on her. But it was getting harder day by day. Until one day, she broke.
Wednesday came back to the dorm, flowers in her hands in an attempt to surprise Enid. She’d heard her talking about it earlier that week, how she longed for those pink pansies she’d seen in the headmistresses office. And Wednesday, ever the attentive girlfriend, has planned to surprise her love with them.
She grabbed the key card from the front pocket of her blazer quickly sliding through the reader on their door. She could faintly hear the lock click open with a beep over the sound of Enid's music. Wednesday took a deep breath, walking through, plastering an awkward smile on her face.
Almost as soon as she started moving she stopped, frozen.
For there was Enid, laying on the floor, her eyes cold and lifeless. A dagger—one that used to be Wednesday’s favorite—stuck in her chest. The floor was bloody as were Enid's clothes.
A scream ripping its way through her throat. Her voice was a decibel she’d never allowed it to reach. She screamed until her throat was raw. She screamed until there were at least ten people at their door, staring at the scene in shock. She screamed until it was no longer physically possible.
Her knees buckled, unable to hold her weight any longer. The flowers fell to the floor, the petals littering around Enid’s blood soaked body, only making Wednesday feel worse.
She reached a shaky hand out, her face soaked with tears of dread as she confirmed the worse—though not much needed to be confirmed.
Enid was gone.