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It started with a soft growl Wednesday barely noticed as she sat reading old poetry at her desk, trying to soothe her mind enough to crawl into her bed for the night. Straightening, she listened, head turned slightly to her right, hearing the rustling of sheets from the occupant of the bed across the room and then it came again. The smallest whimper, cut off sharply with a shivered inhale of breath. Turning in her chair, Wednesday gripped at the wood, looking to Enid in the darkness.
“Hey,” she called harshly, frown set on her lips, brow tight with frustration.
The movements slowed, the sounds stopped. Enid’s sleeping form took a long breath, and then she turned fully, facing her with another deep inhale. Wednesday nodded and shifted back to her book – small and old and smelling like home. One of her few private possessions she’d brought with her for her time at Nevermore. Her finger flipped a page delicately and she continued reading, mind speaking the words to life and conjuring familiar images of death and decay and loneliness and…
Enid whined.
This time it was sharp, pained, and Wednesday stood, turning to begin making her way across the room, stopping at the tape striped across it to look up at the window and the moonlight pouring in from her side. It wasn’t full, but it was bright and as her eyes drifted back to her roommate she momentarily wondered whether her colorful coverings were a sort of forcefield against the celestial rock that mocked her inability to transform. Lifting her right foot slowly, she stepped over the black line quietly and continued, hearing Enid’s distress as she shifted slightly underneath her sheets.
Wednesday could see her eyes drifting back and forth behind her pale lids – void of the colors she splashed over them during the day. Like this, Wednesday considered, she was unexpectedly appealing. Porcelain skin, untouched by dyes and chemicals. Soft and innocent and tormented by the thoughts racing through her mind. Enid grimaced in her sleep and hugged her arms tightly into herself.
“Hey,” Wednesday stated, bending slightly over her, watching the way the word seemed to strike her. She recoiled from it, turning her forehead into the pillow. “Hey,” Wednesday repeated, softer, quieter. “Enid, it’s just random firings of synapses projecting distorted memories and thoughts into your subconscious.”
The words did nothing. Enid whined and Wednesday could see her body curl inward, as though protecting herself from some unseen threat. All the brightness and confidence she exuded earlier in the day, reduced to a shivering mass of skin and bones that emanated an insane heat Wednesday registered against her hand as it lifted to hover just at her shoulder. Her fingers trembled, out of fear or the fight to prevent what she felt was about to happen, she wasn’t sure, but she let those digits fall comfortably against the pink of Enid’s pajamas.
“You’re safe,” Wednesday told her quietly, calmly, watching the small breath she took and feeling the way her body stiffened under her hold and then relaxed. “Enid,” she called, repeating, “You’re safe.”
Taking a long breath, Enid’s features eased, and then she sighed, as though released from her torment and Wednesday remained, watching her. Lifting her hand slowly, she frowned at the small noise Enid made, but then the girl quieted again and shifted in her sleep, reaching blindly. Looking around quickly, Wednesday grabbed at a stuffed dragon, pushing it into her grasp and watched her pull it against her chest as Wednesday straightened at her bedside.
Her steps backed away slowly until she crossed that black strip of tape and she remained there, frozen, as though terrified of what had just occurred. It wasn’t weak to offer comfort, she told herself – Enid was the weak one. Huffing, she turned and went to her desk, closing her book to drop into a drawer before shutting off the lamp and going towards her bed. Tossing back the sheets, she looked at Enid, measured her breaths for a minute longer than she knew was necessary and then she climbed into bed, crossing her arms at her chest to huff at the ceiling. No better than a frightened pup, Wednesday scolded, needing her reassurance.
*
The tapping at her shoulder was incessant and Wednesday growled, teeth gritting before opening her eyes and reaching, grabbing hold of the dismembered hand that flexed and then gripped to her hand just before she moved to throw it. Thing held on as she grunted, slamming him into the bed at her side angrily, pinning him there to look down in the pitch-black space, seeing his forefinger pointing frantically in Enid’s general direction.
“What?” Wednesday hissed, but she could hear it already.
Another nightmare. Enid’s voice whispering nonsense as Wednesday released Thing and moved out of her bed, walking the space between them and looking down to see her struggling against the bedsheets she’d managed to wind around her limbs. Wednesday worked to untangle her and then stood back, imagining that was the issue, but the pained look remained on her face; the tension in her muscles seemed to strain the air around her and Wednesday reached for the dragon plushie, dropping it into her arms and frowning when she batted it away.
What’s wrong with her? Thing questioned from the floor
“She has bad nightmares sometimes,” Wednesday told him plainly. “If only I could be so lucky to be the one afflicted.”
Sitting at her side, Wednesday prepared with a long inhale and she stated, “Enid, relax.” She watched her shake her head in her sleep as she turned from facing the wall to facing Wednesday, her knees bumping against her hip. “Enid,” she sighed sadly, hating that seeing her like this broke something inside of her. Hated that it made her reach out and take the hand that searched for something to grip. Hated that it softened her tone as she leaned forward to whisper, “You’re safe, Enid. Relax.”
Climbing the railing, Thing swung himself up onto the bed as Enid sniffed lightly at the air and then exhaled, her brow immediately releasing from its knot as she pulled Wednesday’s hand towards her. So unbelievably warm, Wednesday thought, focusing on the way her fingers curled around hers and held lightly, anchoring herself to that connection between them as she slowly went completely lax. Wednesday waited, feeling Thing staring, until Enid’s fingers lost their grip to slip them away, touching her shoulder gently and then standing, looking to the hand that tapped at the bed.
What was that? Thing asked
“What?” Wednesday shot.
He gestured at Enid and then back to Wednesday and signed. You, holding her hand?
“Do you want to sleep or not?” Wednesday spat. She pointed to Enid. “She’ll start growling, then grinding her canines, then shouting – this stops all that.”
How often does she have these nightmares?
Wednesday bowed, turning away, grumbling, “Nice to know you generally sleep through them.”
Thing dropped onto the floor, following her back to her bed. Wednesday slipped underneath the covers and watched as Thing made his way up the railing of her bed and settled in a space just beyond her feet. He seemed to be thinking, turning back towards Enid and then facing her again.
What happens when she goes home?
“I don’t know, maybe her mother comforts her,” Wednesday muttered before looking up across the room again, knowing full well that wasn’t the case at all. “Go to sleep,” she ordered, falling back against her pillow and pulling her sheets up, crossing her arms and listening. She always listened for a little while, just to make sure.
*
“Yoko,” Wednesday called, feeling the way the crowd around her pulsed away from her instinctively, the vampire halfway down the hallway the only person who hadn’t moved, simply lowered the sunglasses slightly to peer at her before beginning a lazy stroll in her direction.
“You pissed off my puppy, Wednesday,” she told her slowly, angrily, Wednesday noted.
Nodding, Wednesday took a step closer to her and advised, “She has nightmares sometimes – just so you’re aware.”
Yoko stared, something curious in her gaze that made Wednesday uncomfortable – a feat not easily achieved – as she questioned, “What am I supposed to do with this information?”
“If she’s going to be your new roommate, I thought you would like to know.” Wednesday nodded curtly with a small huff and turned on her heel, beginning to walk away when Yoko called her name.
Glancing sideways at her sternly, Wednesday waited as she sized her up again before telling her, “It’s a good thing you sent your hand to keep an eye on her – it knew what to do.”
“What,” Wednesday began, disarmed by the words. “What do you mean?”
Smiling wide, Yoko pushed her sunglasses up and offered her a small nod, “Don’t worry, she’ll be back before you know it. Then you can get your shirt back.”
Wednesday watched as Yoko laughed to herself and moved casually back down the hallway, leaving her standing in confusion. A day later she found her favorite t-shirt hanging off the edge of her bed as Enid pushed the last of her things back into her drawers, a satisfied smirk on her rosy lips as she hummed to herself. Wednesday plucked it up and stared down at it, looking to the girl across the room and the hand that bounced across her bed, excited to have his friend back.
The shirt was folded away for weeks, collecting Wednesday’s scent, until it was secretly stashed in Enid’s belongings before they departed from Nevermore.
*
Her radiance had almost blinded Wednesday, color lapping further up the shorter blonde tresses she’d returned with, and she’d announced to her that this was to be her fun and freedom era. Enid had detailed a summer camp that sounded almost – to Wednesday’s surprise – normal, and she seemed to be in better spirits than their last spoken conversation where she’d lamented having to spend months at home with her family. But come nightfall, Wednesday heard the telltale sound from across the room: the first rustles of bedsheets coupled with the shuddered intake of breath.
Sitting up, Wednesday looked across to her roommate – her best friend – to listen for whether this would be another nightmare or would it simply pass. The last year had certainly added enough to Enid’s memories to warrant worse dreams, but Wednesday hoped it would have gotten better after she’d been able to wolf out. Enid whimpered sadly and Wednesday frowned, immediately rising from the bed to cross the room without hesitation.
Rounding the bed, she knelt beside it, watching the way Enid’s lips trembled as they turned downward and she reached to settle her hand into Enid’s, letting her pull it in towards her. Her mumbles occasionally shaped words Wednesday understood all too well – no, mom, I can’t, enough – and Wednesday laid her free arm down over the white sheets folded back over the colorful quilt and rested her chin into her black pajamas. Enid brought her hand to her lips, settling it there not to kiss, but to inhale, taking in a shaky breath of Wednesday’s scent.
“Enid,” Wednesday whispered. “You’re safe.”
She exhaled her name warmly into her knuckles and the fear eased out of her features slowly. Wednesday glanced up when she saw Thing coming carefully from the foot of the bed to stop beside her, giving Enid’s knee a gentle pat of his fingers before signing to Wednesday.
Is she ok?
“Yeah,” Wednesday sighed. She waited, some part of her not wanting to drift away just yet as she examined the ways in which Enid had changed since she last saw her. Thing signed again and Wednesday huffed, straightening and pulling herself carefully out of Enid’s grasp to replace her hand with a randomly grabbed stuffed animal at her side, walking back towards her bed with an angrily hissed, “It doesn’t work that way.”
Thing moved to the rail of Enid’s bed and slid down, clattering quickly across the floor to hop up on Wednesday’s desk, stomping a finger down several times to get her attention, stump tilting as he signed again.
“She hasn’t imprinted on me,” Wednesday groaned.
She’s a werewolf.
“No,” Wednesday shot, eyes lifting quickly when Enid turned onto her stomach and sighed. She looked to Thing as he signed again and her eyes widened in horror as she quietly spat, “I haven’t imprinted on her!”
Thing shrugged. Call it what you want then.
“Sleep on her side tonight,” she told him sharply, watching him hop to the chair and then the floor and patter off to nestle himself into Enid’s pile of stuffed animals. Wednesday fell into bed, the coils squeaking as her body gave one small bounce. Arms crossed at her chest, she scowled, intent on researching werewolf imprinting to prove to Thing that he was insane.
*
The familiar smell of her bed in her room at Nevermore felt like a comfort after washing off the last of the scent of the hospital from her body. Wednesday pushed all thought from her mind, trying desperately to fall asleep, but she found herself wound up and staring at the ceiling. Maybe a few weeks in a coma were enough sleep for a while, she considered. Or maybe she was preoccupied with wondering just how good Nevermore security was. Had she locked their door? Was the window secure? Would Tyler easily be able to break through either to get to Enid and herself?
Wednesday brought her hands up to rub at her temples, hissing as her hands shifted the skin of her head, aggravating the staples holding her together. She smiled momentarily at the thought, but her frown returned when she heard the start of her name, muttered quietly, from the space across the room. Hands lowering slowly, Wednesday listened to the silence and she heard it again, a softly moaned, “No,” following it and Wednesday sat up, legs out and body up to walk across the room where Enid was obviously caught in the throes of a terrible vision.
She was crying.
Sitting at the edge of the bed, Wednesday whispered her name, settled a hand at her shoulder and frowned when she felt it trembling underneath her fingers in a way she’d never felt before. This felt different in a way that frightened her. “Enid, you’re safe,” she told her gently, as calmly as she could, but she could hear the fear in her voice as the words emerged.
“No, Wednesday, no,” Enid’s voice was clear now and Wednesday felt her own breath quickening with Enid’s as she looked to the sweat at her collar and the way the hair at the edges of her face clung to her skin. This, she knew, was no normal nightmare.
“Enid,” she shouted, giving her shoulder a shake. “ENID.”
Her eyes flashed open and her hands came out in fright, lingering in the air a moment before registering who had woken her. She sat up in bed and wrapped herself around Wednesday in a desperate and feverishly hot hug. Wednesday slowly accepted it, feeling her inhaling at her neck and gripping carefully at her sore back, and then she heard her crying. Softly. Body shaking in her embrace and Wednesday found herself holding on tighter, letting her ride out whatever emotions were consuming her until she simply remained there, in her arms, taking short, ragged breaths.
“What was it?” Wednesday questioned, seeing Thing slowly peeking over the edge of the bed before crawling up to sit at Enid’s side.
“You died,” Enid’s voice croaked. “Over and over, you died.”
“I’m here,” Wednesday reminded. “Stapled, stitched, very not dead.”
“That’s not funny,” Enid whimpered. “Wednesday, that’s not funny.”
Enid’s fingertips curled in against her back and Wednesday nodded, “I’m sorry, you’re right, it’s not amusing after what happened.”
“Is that what you see,” Enid began, swallowing roughly, voice still hoarse, “When you have visions, do you just see death?”
Feeling her shifting back, Wednesday waited to see her half-open eyes and the trails of wetness on either cheek as she stared into her, and the way her lips still shook slightly, pressed into each other. She hadn’t told her yet, how she’d seen her bloodied face screaming into her angrily, hands gripped around her throat. How could Wednesday tell her she’d seen that?
“Enid, you just had a nightmare,” she assured. “I’m fine.”
“But when you have a vision…” she started, looking perturbed by the notion, Wednesday knew, that she had seen something akin to what Enid had seen in front of her at Willow Hill. Wednesday’s body, slamming into the pavement. She shook her head at Enid, watching her nod. “Do you see..”
“Enid,” Wednesday interrupted, hands reaching to find hers, bringing them together in the space between them, frowning at them because she’d missed them. She’d missed Enid in all of their fighting and all of her avoidance. With a long sigh, she gripped her hands and nodded her chin to the pillow, “Lay down, we’ll talk about it tomorrow if you want.”
“Tomorrow,” Enid repeated, blinking several times before looking to the darkness of the room around them and to Wednesday’s exhausted face. “I’m sorry, yeah, tomorrow,” she laid back and Wednesday pulled the sheets up to her chest, looking down at her face, still sickly pale and dotted with sweat. She chanced to thumb away the streaks of her tears and push her hair away from her face, seeing the way Enid was watching her carefully.
Questioning, Wednesday knew, what she’d seen.
“Goodnight, Enid,” Wednesday sighed, watching her eyes slowly close. She stood and moved leisurely back to her bed, sitting at the edge to gaze out at the dark skies beyond their window for a while, until she looked to Enid, sure that she was asleep.
*
The motel bed was stiff and smelled of linen and cleanliness. Scentless and sterile. Wednesday lay awake, staring up at the ceiling, mapping out imaginary curves in the popcorn texture there. With a long sigh, she turned to look at the second bed, empty of an occupant, and she frowned at it, pulling herself to sit up and lean into the headboard. Bringing her legs out from underneath the too heavy comforter and sheets, she hugged them and tucked her chin into her knees, staring at herself in the mirror on the wall across from her.
Her body was tired; her mind was overwhelmed. Closing her eyes, she thought about their destinations for the next day, knowing her uncle would be up and ready to go in only a few short hours while she lagged behind, pressing herself forward. She could hear him shift in the bathtub, where he’d chosen to sleep this night, and she looked again to the second bed, imagining a head of blonde hair poking out from the comforter – a thin body curled underneath those sheets.
Thing pulled himself up at the end of the bed and made his way towards her. He touched her big toe and signed. You should sleep.
“I can’t,” she responded, eyes remaining on the conjured vision she focused on holding: Enid, fast asleep, safe in that bed.
We’ll find her, Wednesday.
Nodding, the image faded and she looked to Thing, pressing her lips together. “I’m not so confident anymore.”
Don’t give up hope, Wednesday. She’s out there waiting for you.
Wednesday took a long breath, feeling her chest constricting tightly with anxiety. Her eyes welled up and her tears dropped over heavily, landing into her knees to soak into her pajamas as she looked to Thing, head shaking. A simple stupid thought weighing her mind. Thing tapped at her again.
Tell me.
Taking in a shaky breath, Wednesday asked quietly, “What if she has a nightmare?”