Chapter Text
Today would be the day Enid and I settle once again in our old room for the upcoming semester.
While in the car, I found myself lost in reflection, even managing to drown my parents’ disgusting displays of affection and Pugsley’s inability to aim his electric zaps at any moving target. Against my own will, my mind kept on drifting to the last time I had let someone break into my Cerberus-guarded heart.
I couldn’t shake the memory of my infuriatingly hyper roommate engulfing me deep in her embrace, her fingers grasping my back with the tips of those sharp nails threatening to pierce into my skin. If I were to be honest, the warmth of her bloody frame pressed against my barely-alive body and the sting of her claws clutching me close soothed my nerves.
Her image haunted me during all my summer activities. The absence of her laughter was unsettling at first, still I grew accustomed to silence again. Her singing and dancing during my daily writing hour was something I had unconsciously turned into a timer for exactly 60 minutes, but they were gone.
I couldn't stop recalling her eyes sparkling under the moonlight, they were a constant reminder of what I had almost lost because of my arrogance. And most bothersome of all, her voice, it constantly called my name when I was about to fall asleep.
I tried my best to bury those ideas deep into my brain’s graveyard while I prepared for my vigilante ventures. All the while, her ghost followed me even when I was about to avenge the Kansas City Scalper’s victims. Then I saw it—a blonde, blue-eyed porcelain doll I deliberately took. It harbored an uncanny resemblance to Enid. I knew it was the perfect decision to bring it to Nevermore as a gift to her.
When I arrived, everything was chaos, with werewolves everywhere play-fighting, frolicking and bouncing non-stop on Enid’s side of the room… or so I hoped until I noticed a couple kissing on top of my own bed. Intolerable. Words were not enough to describe my disgust.
My blonde friend approached me with an overwhelming smile adorning her face, effectively eclipsing the rest of the trespassers.
“Howdy, roomie!” Enid’s bright voice was somehow audible amidst the loud laughter, the noisy music and the incessant howling of her companions.
Caught up in my distress at the utter mayhem unfolding in front of me, her name escaped my lips before I could stop it, demanding an explanation as to what was occurring in our shared bedroom. Her gaze shone with mischief for a second before she simply turned around and expelled the invaders from the room.
“Alright. Everyone, out!” Surprisingly, all the ‘Furs’ followed her words and immediately started retreating from our sacred space.
I must admit, it was... mildly satisfactory seeing those who marginalized her because of her inability to wolf out exiting at her order so obediently; I did not disclose that with Enid for the fear of having my ear crowed off on how everyone had apologized and moved on from that. She would probably insist that they also were the best of friends now.
I was not one to forgive so easily if at all. Nonetheless, I respected her decision.
Unexpectedly, a single member of the pack lingered for a second while the rest left at her command. Bruno, the name of the romancer, was a fellow lycan who managed to somehow deceive Enid’s better judgment and had probably started worming his way into her fragile heart during our forced vacation.
The same as our previous semester, with Ajax; I found myself looking for anything notable about him. Generic, average looks. Maybe this one did possess a superior intellect, at the very least?
Considering her previous love interest, I expected Enid not to settle for someone as clueless and stone-headed as him again. I actually held some hope that her taste would have evolved.
When we were left alone, I took notice of Enid’s height. She had evidently grown taller during the break, and I now had to tilt my head significantly to make eye contact. Annoying. I assumed it was related to her finally wolfing out, but still it irked me in the slightest not being able to match her glance without angling my face upwards. Curse my father and his diminutive-size genes.
I received some sort of souvenir from Enid’s Lupin Palooza trip, a black T-shirt with a big ‘SF Bay-wolf Madness’ written all over it, accompanied with a rather inaccurate caricature of a werewolf. Nevertheless, I acknowledged the pun with a small remark. It was unexpected but still welcome knowing she had thought of me during her vacation adventures.
Enid, although hesitantly, accepted my carefully chosen present, and complimented its hair. I felt pleased with my choice, if only scarcely. I omitted mentioning it came directly from the Kansas City Scalper’s basement, but did clarify the ‘soft curls’ were made from real human hair. A pang of disappointment stirred in my chest when she put it in a box with a frightful expression after my statement.
We briefly discussed our new goals for the semester, Enid mentioned she would make the most of this year in various areas of the social aspect. Some things don’t change, and by the looks of it, her need for validation had only increased over the recess.The possibility of her mother having something to do with that came to me for a brief moment. In spite of that, I chose to avoid that thought and tried not to ruin our exchange.
Afterwards, I let her know my main aim in our second year would be working on my novel; I would turn 17 so I would have only 2 years left to conquer Mary Shelley’s achievement by finishing it. What mattered the most was that I still had time to complete this personal goal of mine, so my main focus would be making the most of my daily writing sessions.
I even let her take a look at the draft when we heard a knock on the door, to which Enid barely managed to hide from, as her—who I assumed was now-former—gorgon boyfriend peeked through the door asking for her. He left her a distasteful, nauseatingly (in the bad way) vivid stuffed unicorn.
Woefully, I had already taken my color allergy medicine to give Enid her present, thus I picked it up with my fingertips before he left. After closing the door, I immediately tossed the plush towards my roommate who received it with a heavy sigh and a defeated look.
Upon receiving my permission, Enid proceeded to describe her relationship drama in exactly 25 words. As a feedback, I gave her my blunt, but honest advice while I continued unpacking my case. Surprisingly, her concern was far from trivial, yet she didn’t dare to face the source of it. I did not expect Enid, out of everyone, running from her problems. But then again, I was not an expert in human—or werewolf, for that matter—relationships.
That was, until I reached for the closet room’s door and was pleasantly surprised with a rather amateur trap. A crossbow mechanism which had activated once I attempted to enter said wardrobe. It was a spark of adrenaline I very much welcomed, even if Enid was evidently shocked.
The arrow had a picture of Principal Dort and I attached to its sharp end; it was taken from a hidden angle, I reluctantly accepted I hadn’t noticed it being taken. It was from the very same day, when I had just arrived.
“Wait, you have a stalker?!” she questioned, still disturbed.
“Don’t be jealous.” I retorted, assuming Enid shouldn’t worry too much, and that the pest that had been chasing after me wouldn’t ever involve her into whatever plans they had.
When I used my psychic abilities to look into the note for any clues—which resulted fruitless—I barely managed to prevent Enid’s worrisome nature from taking over once she saw a black tear dripping down my right cheek.
In reality, it was one of the side effects of forcing visions, but I downplayed it.
The startle, however, didn’t stop her from prying into my whereabouts during the recess. Summer was quite eventful, so I detailed to her what I felt were some fascinating depictions of my serial killer hunt. This turned out to be too gruesome for Enid, making her faint for the umpteenth time.
Remorsefully, I woke her up using smelling salts. There was an unknown sensation inside my chest, it felt terribly wrong and I didn’t know what it was or how to stop it. I was never troubled by discomfort. In fact, I quite enjoyed it. However, this time it managed to bother me.
The sudden close-up of Enid’s startled, disoriented face made me feel as if there were pins and needles prickling my stomach; somehow my body had reacted to Enid’s proximity with a fight-or-flight response. I felt my hand tremble and had I not been fast enough to disguise it, she would have noticed it, most probably growing wary about my irregular behavior.
What I couldn’t cover—to my absolute demise—was my reddening face; something about those oh-so-familiar larkspur-blue irises had spellbound me. Just like the flower, they held a poisonous allure. A single glance at them had me temporarily paralyzed. Somehow, the idea of falling victim to their arresting bane was… fascinating.
It felt as if time had stopped, leaving both of us in a silent stare-off which neither of us dared—no, wanted to lose. I hoped she wouldn’t hear the way my heart beat faster. Alas, her lupine senses probably picked up on it before I could even try slowing it down with a breathing exercise.
An apology danced at the tip of my tongue yet I dared not to mutter a word while Enid stared at me, expectant. I gulped, and extended a hand to assist my friend. She hesitated for a second before she grabbed it and stood up, quite possibly concerned about my no-touching boundaries. Enid cleared her throat before adding a sheepish, “Old habits die hard, huh?”
I mindlessly let out an amused chuff before distancing myself from her warm presence and adding, “I know you’ll get used to it soon.”
“Oh, no. I’m not getting involved in any of that bloody stuff again.” She stated, her gaze set on me like she was defying some sort of authority. Enid stared deep into my soul with a stern expression, making her look more confident than I ever saw her last year.
“I suppose not all of us find pleasure in mystery-solving. Though I will have to consider finding a new werewolf best friend to assist me.” I hadn’t spoken that much in a long moment; while at home I focused on writing, torturing my siblings, and avoiding my mother’s questions as much as I could.
I wanted to provoke her, despite knowing the pride of a wolf was nothing to be played with. Thing had said it had something to do with my tendency to haunt those who are dear to me. I guessed there could be some truth to his words.
I wouldn’t voice this to Enid. Ever. But she was my only friend, so I had a sense of... devotion of some sort, and by consequence, a desire to torment her.
My attempt at taunting my roommate didn’t go nearly as expected. Truthfully, I found it illogical for her to be exposed to any other near-death experiences so soon. My aversion for her involvement was simply a matter of course, though I was painfully aware it meant our interactions would become less frequent.
“Oh, please, you can’t replace someone like me.” She smirked knowingly, and I decided to let her beat me at my own game for the first time.
Enid’s eyebrows rose, daring me to make a comeback. I simply rolled my eyes, and kept my reply to myself, not to escalate into a new argument. I only gave her a glare before turning around to finish organizing the essential items needed to survive this year.
I remembered our first tango, clearly recalling my then-nemesis’ extended claws and furious pools trying to intimidate me; it had only made me curious as to what extent she would truly go to stand up for herself. Enid made me consider using my decorative medieval torture weapons.
I should have known by then that she was different from the rest; she deserved a particularly macabre ending. In reality, I still stood by it, albeit for a different reason.
“Crow got your tongue, Wends?”
That was the last straw; unfairness. How dare she call me that? It appeared Sinclair had figured out how to corner me with a single word. She had just used the Addams language, and that left me breathless; never had anyone spoken to me in said dialect, except for Joel... whom I hadn’t thought about in a long while.
It’s not as if being called that bothered me. Except it did. In a good way, regrettably so; said name never failed to ruffle me, and Enid knew that.
The response I had the first time I ever heard her say it was something I would deny to my very grave. I didn’t want to remember the way my body reacted—or rather short-circuited. Of course she would be the first one to witness me displaying debility.
A year ago, my hands would have been covered in blood if someone had dared to poke fun at me that way. Yet now, just being able to hear Enid’s voice teasing me after everything we went through felt oddly comforting. I had to discover the reason behind my startle and pull it up by the root. I would never allow such a reaction to become a weakness.
“Don’t push your luck, Enid,” I gritted my teeth before facing Enid again, looking directly into those deep blue pools which didn’t always hold that glint akin to... may I say affection? For me. After a second I added, “Are you feeling alright now? I have to say farewell to my family.”
Having no desire to leave my friend alone with the dim but real possibility of fainting again, I needed to make sure she would be okay before I left. I had followed every step that the nurse had told me to in these cases before going to meet my kin, so I hoped Enid would be fine.
“Yeah, say hi to them for me,” she added with what I recognized was a hint of sadness in her voice.
I felt a primal sense clawing inside of me; I promised myself that Esther Sinclair would suffer my wrath if she ever made her unhappy again. That is, if Enid ever gave me permission to hunt down the pathetic excuse she had for a ‘mother.’
I departed our room and made my way through the congested hallway towards the entrance to part ways with my menagerie. Unfortunately, it felt as if everywhere I went, I was being eagerly stared upon. I truly preferred when I was unnoticeable and/or hated.
Deciding to ignore the overwhelming, glorifying comments, I looked for my relatives. Finally noticing Principal Dort conversing with my parents in what I found out was a desperate attempt to convince them to stay and chair the Gala Fundraising Committee. For the sake of my sanity I prayed they would decline.
Alas, he managed to convince Mother, and therefore, Father—who sported that moony expression of his—proving yet again that he was incapable of having an opinion my mother didn’t share. As if coming back to this hellhole wasn’t enough, this boot-licking buffoon had come up with the sickening idea of keeping them close to Pugsley and I, as if we would be grateful for that.
Don’t twist my words. I do not hate my mother. Morticia has proved herself a cunning, resourceful psychic worthy of admiration. However I would never endorse her decision of settling for something that wouldn’t allow her to reach full potential—marriage, for instance.
There was also my mother’s fixation on trying to control me that I loathed about her. It constantly made its way into our interactions, thus our continuous hostility with one another.
Mother was always smug about everything she said, as if it were objectively correct. While it was true she had taught me almost everything I knew, I didn’t appreciate her futile attempts of shaping me into her younger self.
When we reached the Rotwood Cottage, the sight was nothing short of abominable. Morticia perfectly described it as decorated by someone with ‘ghastly taste.’ I demanded a clear explanation on why she was so easily convinced to stay near Nevermore while my father and Pugsley shared a small snack.
She justified it with her desire to be of assistance during the mastering of my abilities, which I disregarded until her subtle reference to my aunt Ophelia; never had she mentioned my missing aunt directly before. She then granted me words I never thought I would hear.
Mother spoke briefly about her sibling, evidently preoccupied, fearing my fate would mirror her sister’s—mad and vanished. Whilst it did sound tempting, I would be the one to decide what to make of my future. Therefore, I tried my worst to reassure my mother I would do just fine on my own. I wouldn’t realize it didn’t convince her at all until later at night.
After leaving the nightmare-worthy cabin, I stumbled upon a landscape that piqued my interest: a crime scene. As I reached its heart, I was met with an intriguing sight. The new Sheriff, Ritchie Santiago, let me be there for a moment while the cadaver was being transported.
I noticed a dark figure lurking near the scene which sparked my suspicion. Later, I discovered it was Galpin. To my surprise, he asked for my help—not that I would ever consider assisting him. Before leaving, I received a small compliment from the ex-sheriff followed by a cryptic warning: the birds are always watching.
It would’ve made little to no sense had I not noticed the one-eyed crow that appeared to be eavesdropping on our exchange.
It was between dog and wolf that I visited Ophelia Hall for a fleeting second and witnessed my roommate—with what I assumed was her pack—howling, possibly about to raise a ruckus once again in our room.
My vision drifted off to Bruno, the one who had stayed for longer than necessary earlier that day. He, specifically, was not a welcome visitor, and having seen him twice there felt slightly jarring.
Soon, I found myself unwinding via my weapon of choice: the cello.
The piece I felt like playing to exorcise the bitter taste of defeat against Dort and something I couldn’t quite pinpoint was Dance of the Knights. It came to a halt when I felt my hand cramping while performing its tricky vibrato; the sound had become displeasing. After having my hand stabbed by that monstrous pilgrim, it never felt the same again, frequently tensing in excess and making my fingers and wrist feel stiff.
I was then interrupted by a very much unrequested and needless lesson from the new head of music, who introduced herself as Miss Capri. It effectively shut my inspiration down and made my mood even more bitter before I promptly left.
Once I reached our now-peaceful dorm, Enid’s bloodcurdling pop music had replaced the shouting of her ‘friends.’ It was, unsurprisingly, more harmonious than their rally.
In a dreadful exhibit of her heightened senses, she sniffed the air and promptly took notice of my silent presence, nodding towards the darker side of our room.
“Xavier sent you something,” she huffed. It didn’t surprise me; I knew for a fact she was not on good terms with that edgy, tortured, and annoyingly persistent loon.
At that moment, I saw Enid wolf down what looked like rare, almost raw meat in a second. It did surprise me, being used to seeing her eat vegetarian salads at the quad.
I noticed a covered canvas awaiting me. I gripped the paper covering it and pulled it away. The image of a one-eyed crow was revealed, it seemed oddly similar to the one I had seen in the woods with Galpin. The bird stood ominously on a grave, holding a white flower on its beak. There was no doubt it boded ill.
I opted to read the letter attached to it out loud, so as to keep both my friend and Thing aware of its contents.
“You have a phone?” Enid inquired, her eyebrows furrowed, and her head tilted in an adorably canine motion.
“I dropped it in the bath,” I managed to reply, hoping to ignore the small flutter her expression made me feel. The second I got home I tried to test its durability—and in addition get rid of it, but I didn’t mention that to Enid.
“What does the painting mean?” She suddenly stood by my side, agonizingly close enough for me to catch a whiff of her new perfume.
Thankfully, it was daintier than the one she used before; notes of neroli, lily of the valley, and a base of white amber. If I had to describe it, I would probably compare it to an afternoon writing session while rain pours outside, it held a somewhat cozy feeling to it.
“I don’t know yet,” I confessed before looking at her, and pointing to the corner of her mouth, “You have some blood here.”
It looked heinous on Enid. While I abhorred the vibrant colors of her usual clothes, the crimson contrasting against her pale skin was a welcoming sight. It reminded me that she was now able to turn into an apex predator. Albeit once every month, it still was something I could never do.
I had to suppress a shiver while watching Enid get rid of the stain under her lips. There was something terribly wrong going on with me. I would rather indulge in it later, in the dead of the night, just before reliving my traumas so I could get my rightfully earned nightmares.
Enid mindlessly used her thumb to clean the speck and then licked it before shrugging Xavier’s present off, “A goodbye gift, huh? Of course he had it delivered instead of coming himself.”
“Anyway, Thing and I are going to the Pyre, would you like to join us?” She never had once given up on trying to include me in her social-butterfly plans. I admired that. Enid was much more consistent than anyone else in my life, and it did not irritate me as much as it should have.
At that moment I looked at Thing, who stood on the book pile atop of my desk. There was something different from how I had left it.
“Have you been using my typewriter without permission?” He quickly denied it, and once I got close I noticed there was a note written on the paper. It clearly was the doing of my stalker, but how did they enter the room? And, how come neither Enid nor Thing noticed them?
It was a metaphor-turned-threat to burn my novel’s manuscript. Hearing Enid emphasize on the existence of copy machines stung my pride, so I tried not to react to her comment. Instead I let both of them know I had a plan and they could either be part of it or watch me complete it on my own.
As always, the idea included me risking my own life. Still, this time it was something deeply personal. I would not let two years of daily writing go to waste just because a hapless nobody had decided to obsess over me.
—
I managed to crawl out from the burning embers, just shy of scorching myself to death. The heavy smoke had just started to smother my lungs. Somehow, I ended up as the center of attention. I would have preferred to stay inside the bonfire and burn there than experience something like that moment again.
I stood before Principal Dort, who had urged everyone to clap at my appearance as if I were some kind of hero, the novel safely nestled between my arms. Enid looked at me worriedly. She muttered a small, “Are you okay, Wends?”
Then, he showed something that blatantly disrespected my whole identity: a portrait that depicted me as the ultimate savior of this school, and it went even further by adding a smile to my face.
Unacceptable. It could only be described as disgraceful and utterly infuriating. I prided myself on remaining calm most of the time, in spite of that, such irreverence would not go overlooked
I pushed the script into my roommate’s arms before taking revenge with my own hands.
—
“So do not put me on a pedestal, because I will burn it down.” I ended my condemnation by remarking my hatred for all things righteous with a warning.
Then I took justice for myself and burnt the atrocity, quickly leaving so as not to hear anything else. I truly needed a moment to cool off or anyone near me would inevitably make me snap at them, and I did not have anything nice to say in that instant.
I took the unfinished book from my lupine friend’s hands and promptly continued walking away. Whatever that celebration was supposed to commemorate was the last place I wanted to be.
Enid always told me to avoid leashing out on others. So I went straight to the dorms, leaving everyone else behind, and ignoring anyone who wanted to reach out to me. I didn’t care what others said or did after I left, I just had to have my alone time.
I considered going grave-digging to loosen up a bit, but that would mean leaving my roommate alone, and she’d likely worry about my absence.
After admittedly storming off to the building, I heard a familiar voice calling for me. Still, I was so focused on leaving that I didn’t turn around. Then it happened: Enid’s hand took mine, and it triggered the strongest vision I had in a long while.
During my psychic knock-out I saw in first-person the most petrifying sight that I could have ever imagined: Enid’s name engraved in a headstone, then her bleeding ghost choked me while she blamed me for her death. A truly wicked vision that left me—for the first time in what felt like ages—disturbed.
Once I woke up from what felt like an eternal blackout, my first thought was about Enid’s impending doom, helplessly calling her name with what I now recognize as true desperation. Every bit of dignity left my body at the idea of ever losing the one and only person I accepted within the guarded walls of my armored heart.
Ignoring everything in front of me, I searched for the source of my concern. My mother looked perplexed as I suddenly stood up in a hopeless attempt to find Enid. She tried to force me to lay down again, concerned about any possible sequels from what she later called a ‘vision-induced seizure.’
“Dear, she just left! Please, calm down,” Mother was about to hold me by the shoulders to bring me back to the couch but I was faster and fled the room while she stood stunned.
I knew she wouldn’t let me go without an explanation, still the dread inside me only kept growing each second I spent trailing after my ill-fated roommate. Enid's name on the gravestone refused to leave my mind, each letter carving deeper with every breath I took.
I kept running until I got outside the cottage, finally catching up to Enid who was about to get inside the car. My unexpected presence startled her, while Lurch stood holding the door for her.
“Enid!” My preoccupation went as far as to letting myself grip Enid’s wrist to stop her from leaving. Her sharp claws were out, her hair somehow fuzzier than usual and a feral gleam adorned her eyes.
“Wednesday! A-are you okay?” She looked everywhere as if making sure no threat was near us. Except there was; the bird from the painting Xavier had sent had been watching her from a nearby tree, though we wouldn’t know that until after hearing the murder of crows flying directly towards us.
In a flash, I led us inside the house. Even so, it was useless; the birds started crashing against the windows until they entered it. I feared for Enid’s life, hearing my own heartbeat growing both in speed and intensity.
We shared a glance and I was met with her usually sky-blue orbs now bearing a bright amber on them. Her expression was one of pure wildness. She appeared ready to charge against our winged enemies.
Luckily, Father appeared right in the moment they were about to attack us, with two swords on hand, throwing one for me to catch and quickly defend us both from the airborne menaces.
He stood alongside Enid and I, fighting the murderous flock after handing me Viper—a custom-made spada da lato forged from Goody’s shattered one. Father wielded his rapier elegantly, he wasted no energy in needless movements. Soon enough the number of foes diminished.
When we finished defending ourselves, I swiftly searched for Enid’s gory frame. She had used her claws to shield herself; the view of her covered in blood was truly breathtaking.
The fierce look on her now-golden irises immediately disappeared after we made eye contact. If a smudge of red looked grisly on Enid, this view was downright horrific. I found myself once again bewitched by the sight of her. The remaining light of the afternoon caught on the drying crimson of her forearms, each of her tinted claws looked like a blade and was still shaking from our previous encounter.
My hand let go of the sword and before I knew it, I was engulfing Enid in a tight embrace. She stood shocked for a second and then I felt her wrapping her arms around my waist, bringing me impossibly closer. I allowed the moment to linger a heartbeat longer than necessary, memorizing the pressure of her claws against my spine before allowing the world to intrude again.
I released her before the comfort could root too deep, stepping back as if the distance could sever the curse already threading through my chest.
It was something I didn’t realize I longed for, but the moment her soothing fragrance invaded my senses, I felt safe. For the first time ever, my usually overwhelmed senses and thoughts stopped, giving me a taste of what calm was like.
How ironic. We had just fought for both our lives, but adrenaline wasn’t the one to numb the pain. Instead, the hug was able to shut everything out and helped me know what comfort truly was.
Once again, there was something akin to spiders crawling my insides. They multiplied, their silk binding every rational thought to the image of Enid in front of me. However, this time, I wouldn’t ignore it as I finally understood what it was.
Fate had decided to manifest itself in the cruelest timing ever. I would have to find a cure, for I had been struck by the Addams family curse.
I had fallen in love with Enid, and this new knowledge settled on my formerly hollow chest like a second heartbeat I had never ask for.