Archive of Our Own

I wanna be your puppy
I want to be the doormat
I know it's bad, I know this is so bad for me
You are so bad for me
I want you to scold me, if only to hear you speak

There was always something that bothered Enid about her single room.

The amount of space was paradoxically suffocating, and as much as she covered the area with as many decorations as humanly possible, it couldn't fill a gaping hole in her heart.

Oh, she tried to get a roommate, but most candidates only needed one look at her room—the isolation, the decorations, and her—before they decided that maybe they wanted to see the other options.

The older Werewolves didn't want to room with her because 'her freakishness might be contagious', and none of the vampires wanted a massive window in their room letting in the sun. They said all this in front of Enid, as if she wasn't their prospective roommate, as if she wasn't worth wasting any attention on.

But that was fine. She could live with it.

Alone wasn't so bad.

Enid could collect all the stuffed animals, and put up so many posters, and she could play music out loud and dance to her heart's content. Nobody will be there to complain about it, and nobody was going to judge her for it.

Nobody...

It was fine. It wasn't so bad.

If Enid repeated it enough times in her head, she'd learn to be comfortable with it, much like with most things in her life. It was fine that she couldn't wolf out, month after month. It was fine that she had a hard time making friends. It was fine that even after months in Nevermore, she never really seemed to find her place.

It was fine. Enid was fine.

She started a blog. She joined the crochet club, and the drama club, and she mingled with the students of Nevermore. They were nice distractions, and people seemed to like her when she was there.

They read what Enid wrote, and they complimented her skills with the strands and her line deliveries, but at the end of the day, Enid came back to her room all alone.

The moment her laptop closed, the moment Enid stepped out of the theater or the classroom, she was disconnected again. It's like everything would go quiet, and Enid would have to go back to thinking about all the things she put off from the previous day.

What else would she do? There was nobody waiting for her, not in her room, not her family.

It's just Enid.

Maybe she was a tad too overjoyed when Principal Weems informed her that she would be having a roommate. Maybe she expected too much from Wednesday Addams, who moved in halfway through term. She'd take anyone at this point.

But her roommate really hated her.

Enid didn't know what other accommodations she could offer Wednesday—she already ripped up half of her decorations, moved herself in without Enid's input, and refused to even talk to her.

She tried to be understanding, she really did. Wednesday transferred over after having been expelled from her previous school. It was a massive change, going from a Normie school to one for Outcasts, and Enid was everything Wednesday wasn't.

So Enid understood why Wednesday was so standoffish. She just didn't expect the coldness to last so long. Enid hoped Wednesday would warm up over time, but that seemed to be a foreign concept to her.

Her attempts at conversation were summarily rebuffed. All she got was a weird look from Wednesday after she glanced at the full moon. Enid never got to know how she was able to get her cello up to their room.

She found out about Thing the hard way, when she woke up one morning to find a disembodied hand on her desk browsing some magazines. Though the situation was quickly resolved, Thing never really stuck around long enough for Enid to talk to. Maybe Wednesday warned him about her.

The Festival came, and though she was surrounded by people, Enid came alone.

Enid focused on the things that she did have—the cotton candy in her hands (that she bought for herself), the cute outfit she picked out (that nobody seemed to notice), the nails she painted (that reminded her that claws would be the only thing she'd achieve).

(No fur, no friends, no feelings.)

But it's fine. It was fine when Enid bumped into some Normie boy who didn't even apologize when the remains of her cotton candy hit the ground. It was fine when Bianca Barclay came back with an unconscious Wednesday Addams in her arms, and it was fine when Enid had to be the one to carry her roommate back to Ophelia Hall.

It took much prodding for Thing to spill that Wednesday was trying to leave Nevermore, and Enid didn't even get the full story—she was pretty bad at reading his fingers.

Wednesday didn't even see it fit to inform her own roommate about her plan. Enid should have noticed that all her stuff was packed up, but everything was a blur to her most days.

She woke up, she played a role, she went to bed. Day in and day out, that was all Enid got to do.

In this role, Enid felt some semblance of control. If she smiled enough, if she put herself out there, it was easier to pretend nothing was wrong. Every giggle she made from every piece of gossip shared to her, Enid used to silence the voice of her mother telling her about her inadequacies, the voices of her fellow Furs jeering at her, and her own voice...

Sometimes, she looked forward to the breaks to the monotony. The Poe Cup was one such event, when the other residents of Ophelia Hall would look to her to whip them up to shape. They'd lose, of course, but Enid took to the leadership role and did what she could. She would do her best, and she would push her team to do their best, and they would lose anyway.

But that was fine.

This term, Wednesday Addams was supposed to be on the team. As distant as she was, Enid had seen how competent and competitive she could be—a major asset to the team.

Unfortunately, like with many things involved with Enid, Wednesday wanted nothing to do with it.

Well, she didn't until Yoko found herself poisoned with garlic and Enid found herself lacking a co-pilot.

She was bawling her eyes out, something Enid reserved for the confines of her room, where she didn't have to act peppy and cheery all the damn time. Nobody else was willing to pick up the slack, so either Enid does double the work on the day of the race, or...

"It was Bianca."

The first words that Wednesday Addams said to her that weren't combative, and it's to tell Enid who sabotaged their Poe Cup team.

"I worked out that much, thanks," Enid snapped, swiping at her eyes.

Enid couldn't even have the space for herself anymore. She'd have to remember that Wednesday could walk in at any moment before she could fall apart. In any case, Enid wasn't in quite the mood to deal with her and whatever holes she would poke in Enid's psyche.

Wednesday glared at her, before slowly, hesitantly... "You and I are going to take her down tomorrow."

And a flicker of hope sparked up in Enid's chest. Enough to keep her going, enough to start a fresh wave of tears that she desperately tried to keep at bay—Wednesday was already starting to look uncomfortable from the display.

"You'd do that with me?" Enid asked, hoping against hope that maybe this was when they'd mellow out. Maybe not friends yet, but someday.

Someday...

Wednesday grimaced, and that ember of friendship in Enid's heart dimmed a little. Not fully, but she tempered her expectations. "I want to humiliate Bianca so badly that the bitter taste of defeat burns in her throat."

Enid tried for a smile. "Enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?"

"Don't push it," Wednesday warned, and Enid's heart drooped further. "Tell me how she keeps winning."

If Wednesday wanted it to purely be about business, then the least Enid could do is respect it. The time would come, but Enid had to be patient.

She launched into a detailed explanation about the past two Poe Cup competitions—the canoes mysteriously sinking at the last stretch, the players dropping out right before the day itself (like what happened to Yoko), and even the foul play that happens on Raven Island itself. Enid remembered the rumors of broken bones, heavy bruises, and even someone falling unconscious.

"Sabotage," noted Wednesday quietly.

"There's no rules for the Poe Cup," Enid said helplessly. Even so, she was hesitant to stoop to Bianca's level. Wednesday clearly did not have any reservations doing so, though.

"Then we beat her at her own game."

Enid couldn't help but admire her gumption, her determination, her confidence. She sorely wished she could be more like Wednesday—even if she could be acerbic and hurtful, she wasn't a doormat like Enid was.

(Again and again, her mother's voice kept repeating in her head.)

She went to bed with thoughts of Wednesday and the Poe Cup swirling around in her head, like driftwood in the murky lake they'd cross for the competition. Enid wished for a lot of things, but she mostly wished things would get better soon.

When Enid woke up the next morning, sun shining through colored window panels, she tried to tamp down the trepidation she felt before the game started. She slipped on her costume, delicately adding the whiskers and pasting on the smile that everyone knew from her.

If Enid felt a small glee from seeing her roommate, Wednesday, in the same outfit, then she would use it to push herself forward and keep the spirits up.

And she was right. Wednesday was a monster on the field. She and Thing had planned out a few sabotages themselves, and had secretly modified their canoe to fire off weapons of their own.

The closer they got to shore, the more confident Wednesday got, barking out commands to their rowers, to Thing, and to Enid. When they reached the edge of the island, Wednesday ordered Enid to guard the canoe as she plunged deeper into the woods of Raven Island.

Enid would usually be the one leading the charge to capture their flag. But she recognized that Wednesday was more well-suited for the task than she was.

Guard the canoe. What else would she do?

Her eyes flickered towards the other, abandoned boats. She could pull off some sabotages of her own. Wednesday shouldn't get to have all the fun.

(Wednesday would be proud of her if she did so, right..?)

Her claws came out, and Enid slashed at the canoes. Maybe she was a little too vicious, maybe she got too carried away, but that was probably just pent-up anger from the past years of Poe Cup losses.

Enid was fine.

The first set of people trickled out, clutching their flag. No Wednesday in sight. Enid let them go—they'll have a nasty surprise waiting for them once they're off-shore.

Too many minutes have passed, and Wednesday was nowhere to be found. Enid considered pushing forward into the woods herself, disobeying Wednesday's order to guard the boat. She stayed put, though she wasn't happy about it.

Her mood took a nosedive when Bianca Barclay's team, the Gold Bug, made their way out with their own flag in tow. They tensed up upon noticing her, though it was short-lived. Bianca snorted, dismissing her with a, "It's just Enid."

They walked away, never sparing her a second glance.

The words kept echoing in her head, dismissive tones scratching at her ears like nails on a chalkboard. It's just Enid. And she let out a bitter, mirthless laugh.

She should've scratched up their canoe more than she already did.

Wednesday finally walked out of the woods, clutching the Ophelia Hall flag and the rest of the team in tow. The sight of her filled Enid with conflicting feelings—annoyance that she'd taken so long, relief that she was able to make it out safely, and, upon noticing the dazed look on Wednesday's face, a tinge of worry.

But Wednesday's gaze hardened, telling Enid, "Let's go. We're late."

As Enid focused on rowing them all back, Wednesday returned to position, sending out Thing to launch their final sabotage at Bianca's boat. A particular smirk left Enid reeling as Wednesday pulled a lever on their own canoe, stopping it from wobbling dangerously close to capsizing.

And when Bianca's team began to sink, Enid felt all eyes move to Wednesday, the girl who led them to victory.

The girl who succeeded for the first time where Enid failed all those years.

Oh, she cheered when Principal Weems awarded them the cup, and she smiled and yelled as the Poe Cup was given to Wednesday, who looked disgruntled at the attention. Enid ignored the simmering jealousy that bubbled up in her stomach, because Wednesday was simply better at it than she was. She deserved that cup. She deserved to win.

Maybe one day she can stop being such a screw-up and become more like her.

Even despite everything, Enid didn't hate her. Wednesday may have been obvious about her disdain of her preferences, her personality, and sometimes Enid herself, but she could tell it wasn't really personal. They just didn't gel with each other all that well, and Enid couldn't blame her for it.

They shouldn't work.

It didn't stop Enid from wanting them to work, because she'd rather be friends with someone she shared her sleeping space with rather than get murdered in her sleep. Because she'd much rather be close to someone that she kind of admired, so that they'd rub off on her.

Because she felt a bit lonely and wanted friends. A friend.

She couldn't sleep. Enid shut her eyes, tight enough that it was almost painful. She tried burying her head in her pillows, to clutch close her plushies, to lay as still as possible and run from her thoughts, towards dreamland.

Enid pretended not to notice when she heard the doors of their room. What kind of things was Wednesday Addams doing in the middle of the night?

Her mind wandered at all the possibilities. Just recently, after all, Wednesday was found unconscious and injured during the Harvest Festival. Was this the norm for someone like her?

She was still awake by the time she heard Wednesday come back, the door clicking shut almost imperceptibly if it weren't for Enid's sensitive hearing.

This time, Wednesday noticed.

"What are you doing?" she asked, sounding distinctly annoyed. Her voice rang out from above Enid, so she hesitantly cracked her eyes open.

"Couldn't sleep," Enid replied earnestly. There was no point in lying. "Don't worry about it."

She couldn't look away from those eyes—stormy, brown, unreadable. Enid could spend hours getting lost in them, and she almost, almost did... until she realized Wednesday was speaking.

"—my activities in the deepest hours of the night, is that clear?"

Enid blinked away the dizziness that had taken root in her head. "Yes, yeah, of course," she answered agreeably, throwing in a grin.

Wednesday tilted her head in the way that she did when she was bemused. "You did not listen to a word I said," she accused.

"You caught me," Enid said, sheepish at being called out.

She stared at Enid, her face inscrutable. Her lips were pressed together, thin and contemplative. Perhaps thinking of what to say next.

Instead, Wednesday turned away and stalked back to her side of the room, leaving Enid alone.

As alone as she could be, at least, when Wednesday was only a few meters away. The tape Wednesday placed down on her first day had never felt so isolating.

Part of Enid wanted to call out to her, if only to continue the conversation. She didn't even know what she'd say to Wednesday—if she would apologize for zoning out, if she would congratulate her for the Poe Cup, if she would beg for a definitive reason as to why she avoided Enid.

But she shouldn't. The facts were simple: Wednesday Addams had an interesting life ahead of her, and she had no room for Enid Sinclair.

And that was fine.

Enid turned away to face the wall. Sleep was no closer then that it was before, but Enid had to try, or she wouldn't get any energy for her classes the next day.

Her days were mostly the same. Again, again, and again, it was to put on the unbothered, bubbly persona she usually wore and push all unnecessary, awful feelings to the Enid who came home every evening.

It wasn't so bad. Sometimes Enid really enjoyed it. Sometimes she could get lost in the role and she would actually be happy, even for a bit.

(Then she would crash at night, and there's nobody there to catch her. But when Wednesday would walk in, a switch is flipped and Enid is back to trying to please her. It was best if Wednesday doesn't notice amiss.)

The next time Wednesday actively sought her out, it was in the Weathervane for Outreach Day.

Enid understood the importance of the event—it was so Outcasts remained connected to the 'outside world' and not just be in the Nevermore bubble. However, Outreach Day always sent a bit of dread towards Enid's way.

No matter how much she mingled and put her best self forward, greeting everyone with her most enthusiastic, "Howdy!" and trying on her best clothes to look as approachable as possible, it wasn't enough. Enid always felt that during these events, she had a massive neon sign behind her back that said 'OUTCAST'.

Reading what was inside her own assignment envelope, she at least got lucky this year. Pilgrim World was all about serving fudge and guiding tourists.

And since they're tourists, they're less likely to realize that half of the group were Outcasts, which included Enid. It was a popular assignment for a reason—everyone in Nevermore had their fair share of being shunned or jeered at by Normies.

Which was why Enid was less than impressed when Wednesday slipped into her Weathervane booth brandishing her own envelope. "Enid, I need you to switch assignments with me," she requested, though it sounded more like a statement.

"Why? Where did they put you?" Enid asked, sipping her drink as she did. She already knew it was for some deeper ulterior motives that she couldn't even begin to guess, but she wanted to hear what Wednesday would tell her.

A wistful part of her wished it would be the truth, and Enid would be privy to whatever it was Wednesday was up to.

Wednesday glanced around herself. "Here, the Weathervane," she admitted. "But I need to get to Pilgrim World."

The Weathervane wasn't the worst assignment out there—Uriah's Heap probably was, though Enid imagined Wednesday would love it—but she really was curious as to why she picked Enid to swap with.

"That doesn't answer the 'why'," Enid pointed out, clutching her hot chocolate mug closer.

With her pushback, Wednesday huffed. "If you do not want to, simply say so." An odd smile crossed her face. "Though I heard Ajax was also assigned here."

Internally, Enid grimaced. Ajax was cute, yes, but she was mostly disappointed that Wednesday thought that was enough leverage for her to give up her assignment. Did she really think Enid was that shallow?

Rather than voicing out her thoughts, though, she plastered on a wide grin as she said, "That's reason enough for me!" Enid then fished out her assignment envelope from her bag, sliding it over to Wednesday, who gave Enid her own envelope in return.

Enid didn't know why she went along with it. She much preferred going to Pilgrim World, but she handed over her assignment as easily as she breathed.

Maybe if she did Wednesday enough favors, she'd finally stop hating Enid.

(But when Wednesday took it and left without a word, Enid's heart sank deeper into her gut. And it sank deeper still when Enid donned her red apron to find no Ajax behind the till.)

There were only so many times Enid could say, "Hi there! What can I get you?" before her mood caught up to her pretense. By the time her smiles were reduced to pained not-quite-frowns, the only other person on duty finally took over for her—a Normie boy she vaguely recognized from the Harvest Festival.

As she turned to fulfill the outstanding orders, the boy spoke up. "You're Enid Sinclair, right?"

The recognition perked her up. "Oh, yeah, that's me!" she answered, whirling back to face him.

He smiled warmly at her. "I'm Tyler. Your roommate, Wednesday, she told me about you."

Enid's grin dimmed a bit, though she was still bouncing on her heels. "Ah, yeah, that's me..." she squeaked, echoing her words with much less energy, before her curiosity was piqued. "What kind of stuff has she been saying about me?"

Tyler cringed, which did little to reassure Enid. "Let's... not," he said, steering her away from the topic. "Is this your first time being assigned to the Weathervane?"

She recognized the deflection, but refused to engage with it. "No, seriously, what did she say?" Enid prodded, leaning against the counter as casually as she could.

"Oh, well," Tyler began hesitantly, "she mostly thinks you're... a bit much. But she says that about a lot of people, doesn't she?"

Maybe she did, but Enid never held a conversation with Wednesday long enough for that to happen.

Sensing Enid's distress, Tyler backpedaled with, "Seriously, we don't have to talk about this."

"I asked for it," Enid sulked, turning her attention back to the espresso machine. "I only wanted to be friends with her."

"I'm getting the feeling she isn't really the 'friends' type," he countered.

Yeah, but she's clearly talked to you enough that she mentioned how much she hated me. That's practically friends already, right?

Enid blew off her stress in one deep breath. "I wouldn't really know," she admitted. "She barely talks to me."

Tyler gave her an easygoing grin. "She's like that for everyone, don't worry too much about it." He jerked his head back to the supplies closet. "Would you mind looking after the counter again?"

"Sure thing," she mumbled. If her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, he didn't comment on it.

The moment he stepped into the closet, the bell at the door rang out. Enid braced herself for the next customer, pasting on a more amicable expression.

"Howdy! What can I getcha?" she piped up, not really focusing on who walked in.

"Enid."

The sound of the voice made Enid straighten up and zone back in. She would know that voice anywhere.

"Oh, hey, Wednesday," Enid greeted tiredly, losing all the charm she built up. She vaguely recalled Tyler's words, but she tried not to let it show in her voice. "How's Pilgrim World? What drinks can I get you?"

"Too much fudge," Wednesday intoned, and Enid's heart skipped a beat. Was that a joke? Maybe this wasn't unsalvageable.

All of that hope was promptly extinguished upon hearing Wednesday's next words. "I'm actually here to see Tyler," she said, just as the closet door opened behind Enid.

"Ah, he's, um, he's right there," Enid said meekly, stepping aside to reveal him. "I'll let him get your order..."

Tyler stepped up to the counter at the sight of Wednesday, widely grinning as he asked, "Your usual, then?"

"Yes, please," she replied tersely. Wednesday reached into her pocket, pulling out a sheet of paper. "And some help."

He knows her usual. She's talked to him plenty of times. She's ordered coffee often enough to have a usual. She wants his help.

What's wrong with you, Enid? What's so wrong that she talks to everyone but you, her own roommate?

She thinks you're too much. You're overbearing, you're loud and brash, and you're a disappointment—

And Enid forced herself to turn away, taking the order slip from Tyler, because if she watched the two of them have a semi-amicable conversation, she might just spontaneously combust right then and there.

Still, she caught snippets of their hushed exchanges—Cobham Woods, Pilgrim Meeting House, monster? Then, Enid felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle up.

Wednesday was staring at her.

Enid forced her breath to steady. She prepared Wednesday's order as hastily as she could. It was only a quad over ice, but every moment she spent holding it burned at her fingertips.

When she handed Wednesday her drink, she couldn't bring herself to look into her eyes. Enid didn't want to see what expression may lay there, if it was disinterest, distaste, or downright pity.

She accepted the cup wordlessly, and turned to leave. Tyler called out to Wednesday, but Enid didn't want to hear any of it, rushing to the supply closet herself and slamming it shut.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

It's going to be fine. It's fine.

It's fine. I'm fine.

A knock on the door.

"Sorry, yeah, just... just grabbed something!" Enid yelped, scrambling to grab a package of coffee cups. She yanked open the door to a mystified Tyler.

He gave her a once-over. "You don't look too good," Tyler noted, quirking an eyebrow at her. "You can drop the cups, by the way."

Enid glanced at her hand, slowly putting away the pack of cups. "Sorry, it's just—"

"No, I get it," he interrupted, shrugging helplessly. "Sometimes the world feels a bit overwhelming, so you gotta take a moment, right?"

She sighed in relief. Tyler described the exact feeling she had. "Y-yeah," Enid stuttered out, shoulders slumping in relief. "It was a bit much."

"She mostly thinks you're... a bit much."

"And I imagine this is about Wednesday too, isn't it?" Tyler continued, causing Enid to stiffen up.

"Wha—No, no," Enid denied, shaking her head. "Wednesday has nothing to do with this."

Tyler stared blankly at her, not budging.

Enid deflated. "Am I that obvious? I just want her to take me seriously and be my friend..."

He inclined his head, weighing out what to say, before continuing, "Hey, tell you what, why don't you pack up for now?"

"But—"

"No, really," he interrupted, his eyes twinkling kindly. "It's almost lunch anyway, and I'll close up to take my own break. You can come back later, alright?"

It was a tempting offer. Enid felt bad for wanting to take it, but Tyler was offering it freely, and she was much too strung up to deal with anyone else.

And maybe...

Enid motioned to take the apron off, but the bells on the Weathervane door jingled to signal a customer.

Tyler waved her off as Enid stopped untying her apron, saying, "I'll take her order. It's okay." He gave her a smile. "Come back later, Enid. It was nice meeting you."

She bumped into the new customer on her way out, who turned out to be their dorm mother Miss Thornhill.

"Oh, Enid!" she greeted, drink in hand. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Enid replied with a weak grin, awkwardly clutching her bag close to her chest. "Yeah, I was assigned here. I was going out to get lunch."

The easiest excuse to make, which wasn't true in the slightest. Enid had no appetite whatsoever. Her insides were turning to mush, and she wasn't sure if it was the amount of interacting with Normies, or if it was the encounter with Wednesday, or even just Enid being her weird self.

Miss Thornhill chuckled. "That's no problem at all. By the way, I've been meaning to ask..."

Please don't.

"...how are things with you and Wednesday? Are you two getting along? I know you've worked together really well during the Poe Cup!"

Her stomach twisted itself into knots at the question. "We're managing," she lied through her teeth. "I should really get going."

She pushed past Miss Thornhill without another word. She had to get out of the Weathervane.

Enid let her legs carry her wherever. She wasn't really thinking of a destination, but she really, really needed to get as far from everyone as she could. Jericho was far too crowded and Enid needed some peace. Everywhere she looked, there were people, so many people, and it was starting to feel suffocating.

The tightness in her chest only grew when Enid realized she walked into Cobham Woods, where Wednesday said she would be exploring. If Enid ran into her again... she didn't even know what she'd do.

So she stopped. She sat on the forest floor, finding the nearest tree to lean back on, and Enid wept.

She couldn't do it in her room. She couldn't do it anywhere else. This was all the space she had to be physically alone, but she felt alone regardless of where she went. And part of Enid wished someone would stumble into her and give her the comfort she craved.

Part of her wished it was Wednesday. She'd take the insults, the discomfort, the coldness, at least she wouldn't be alone.

But it's just Enid.

Enid didn't know how long she spent falling apart. The emotions in her chest swirled into a broiling storm, and she expelled them with such force through her tears and her guttural yells. It wasn't this bad before, what changed?

And Enid knew it was staring her in the face, but she never wanted it to be true. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't, so she pushed the possibility away.

Why did she want to be friends with Wednesday Addams?

She waltzed into Enid's life and turned everything upside-down, with her aloof nature and her biting remarks, but she was everything Enid wanted to be. She reminded Enid of everything she wasn't.

The pitter-patter on the leaves around her shocked her back to cognizance. A droplet fell onto Enid's cheek, then another. She belatedly realized they weren't tears as more and more raindrops hit her.

Of course it's raining.

With numb, shaky fingers, Enid fished for the umbrella within her bag. Its pinkness cut through the rapidly darkening sky as Enid slowly got to her feet, a neon beacon in the drizzle.

As the visibility grew worse around Enid, a sudden panic struck her—Enid didn't know where she was. Somewhere around Cobham Woods, yes, but she'd wandered far enough from Jericho that she couldn't see any of the buildings anymore.

She reached for her phone, trying not to let the anxiety get to her, lest she burst into tears again. Enid cursed upon seeing the lack of signal bars.

Snap!

Enid stiffened. The noise, a branch cracking in two, came distantly from her right. She clung to the tree trunk behind her, risking a glance in the direction of the sound.

The rain obscured her vision, but she could barely make out the silhouette of a large, hulking mass that was moving swiftly towards Enid.

She sucked in a panicked breath, shutting her umbrella and shrinking upon herself. Enid flattened herself against the tree as the footsteps, the ground-shaking boom-boom-boom-boom! that was heading in her direction, got louder and louder.

Monster in the woods, Enid recalled from the Weathervane.

Life was a cruel joke. Enid, mauled by some monster that Wednesday was pursuing, all because she wanted to find a place to sulk, because she wanted to be friends with Wednesday.

Enid shut her eyes, desperately praying it wouldn't find her. Was this the end? She never even did anything substantial with her life.

The pounding continued, dangerously close to the tree Enid was hiding behind. And it continued, on and on, moving past Enid until she could no longer hear the monster through the rain.

She got lucky.

She had to get out of the woods.

But no sooner had Enid stepped away from her hiding place than she heard another set of footsteps. Much more nimble, much less monstrous, but nevertheless sent a fleeting sense of dread into Enid.

Enid brandished her pink umbrella like a weapon, though it wouldn't really do her much good in an actual fight, such as against that... monster thing.

Soaking wet and utterly miserable, she probably wasn't the most intimidating thing out there, but Enid wasn't going down without a fight, not anymore.

"Show yourself!" Enid cried out, jumping towards the source of the footsteps, only to come face to face with her.

Wednesday Addams, too, looked on guard upon laying her eyes on Enid. They made eye contact for one, two, a brief moment, before it became too much for Enid.

"S-sorry, I thought..." Enid trailed off, not knowing what to say. Wordlessly, she opened her umbrella back up and stepped closer to Wednesday, who appeared ready to recoil from the proximity.

Right. Personal space.

Enid outstretched her arm, making sure to retain some distance while also keeping both of them under the umbrella.

"Did you see the—"

"I am chasing it," Wednesday confirmed. "You also saw it?"

She gave a shaky nod. "It was... it's raining, and I couldn't see too well, but it came towards me and I..." Enid's voice gave out on her. "What the hell was that thing?" she asked with a shiver.

Wednesday appraised Enid with a tightness around her lips, as if she were deciding how detailed she was going to answer. The hesitation rubbed Enid the wrong way, reminding her that, if given the choice, Wednesday would not choose to talk to Enid.

She should have been used to it by now, but every reminder of that fact kept the wound fresh and raw, stinging with every rejection from her roommate.

Slowly, carefully, Wednesday responded, "I don't know yet." She raised her head, forcing Enid to look up at her. "What exactly are you doing here?"

Her tone was sharp, accusing, cold. She clearly thought Enid eavesdropped on her conversation with Tyler and followed her to wherever the old Pilgrim Meeting House was.

Enid did no such thing, but what could she say that would convince Wednesday of her innocence? Confess to the truth of running away from everyone so she could have a good cry?

That was pathetic. Wednesday wouldn't appreciate someone who had a glaring weakness like that.

"I took a walk," Enid said vaguely, wistfully. "I needed some air."

Wednesday's expression did not change from her suspicious grimace. "How convenient," she drawled, which sent Enid's stomach churning.

"I'm being honest," Enid insisted weakly. She wasn't lying, but she wasn't exactly forthcoming either.

She hummed dismissively in reply, before noting, "The monster is human." Wednesday was examining the footprints in the mud, which have indeed been shrinking in size the further they went along, though the rain was swiftly eroding even the deepest prints.

"That thing was human?" Enid hissed, surprise and fear etched onto her face.

A nod.

"And you were... chasing after it. Why?"

Enid could sense that she was on the threshold here—the limits of what Wednesday was willing to discuss with her—but she was tired. She had a brush with death, and she had all these emotions bubbling, frothing within her. If Enid didn't try now, when Wednesday was more willing to talk, then she would never find anything out for herself.

The conflict was clearly written on Wednesday's face as well. Ultimately, she seemed to give in, though. "You were the one to carry me home from the Harvest Festival?" Wednesday prodded.

It wasn't where Enid expected the conversation to go, but she nodded her assent.

"I was attacked by Rowan," Wednesday confessed in a low voice. Though Enid had more sensitive ears and was mere inches from her, she had to struggle to hear the words Wednesday was saying. "That was partially why I was unconscious."

"Partially," Enid repeated. "The monster..?"

"Went after Rowan, then myself," Wednesday confirmed, looking distinctly uncomfortable to be sharing both her story and Enid's space. "He's dead."

Enid opened her mouth to retort, but fell silent upon seeing Wednesday's withering stare. "I know we all watched him leave Nevermore, but I saw him get mauled to death by that monster," she said hotly. "I have no time for your incredulity."

Without waiting for a reply, Wednesday huffed. "But that was not my main intention in coming here. When Rowan tried to kill me—"

Enid eyes bugged out, ready to interrupt, but Wednesday glared in warning. She wisely kept her mouth shut and let Wednesday continue her explanation.

"—he told me I was destined to destroy Nevermore, as his mother saw in a vision." From her pockets, she produced a wrinkled, tattered sketch that Enid gingerly took from her.

Sure enough, it depicted a girl that looked remarkably similar to Wednesday, though the details were sparse enough that Enid couldn't be too sure. To the left, a silhouette that appeared to be that of Jericho's founder, Joseph Crackstone. Most strikingly of all, serving as the backdrop of this drawing, was the Nevermore quad, in ruins and aflame.

"I was finding more information on him." Wednesday tapped on the shadowy figure of Crackstone. "And I had a v—"

She cut herself off, her lips a thin line. "The monster being in the woods at this very moment was not a planned encounter."

As Enid digested the information, Wednesday took the drawing back and pocketed it. There was a lot to think about, and Wednesday was having full-blown investigations and adventures about it while Enid was... there. Not having done anything of note.

"Sounds like you've got your hands full," Enid said softly.

"Quite."

They didn't say anything for quite some time. The rain carried on around them, the droplets fading into white noise in the background. Wednesday was watching her with an inscrutable expression on her face.

Enid didn't know what to think, with all the things Wednesday revealed. Why did she relent? Why did she decide it was worth telling Enid now?

What did it mean for them? Would Wednesday expect more from her? Was Enid allowed to be her friend..?

All the questions crossed Enid's mind, yet she held her tongue, never letting any of them past her lips. Instead, she grinned feebly at her, asking, "Do you know how to get back to Jericho?"

That encounter in the woods consumed Enid for the rest of the day. Try as she might, she couldn't stop thinking about the beast, about her conversation with Wednesday, and about how civil it was.

She manned the till and made the drinks alone—Tyler never returned from his lunch break—but even with the neverending onslaught of customers, Normie or Outcast, Enid's head was in the clouds, analyzing every detail of that brief moment.

Those questions kept repeating over and over in her head.

Wednesday wouldn't leave her thoughts.

Enid wasn't quite happy. Lighter, firmer, raw, but not happy. She was on a cloud, floating above the afternoon sky, slowly and steadily, but she could see the storm clouds on the horizon.

When Enid stepped foot into her dorm later that night, she hoped the atmosphere in their room would warm somewhat. Maybe Wednesday would acknowledge her more, or talk to her, or anything of the sort.

She wouldn't mind it if Wednesday discussed her investigations more. Knowing her usual demeanor, it was probably going to involve a lot of grisly descriptions of murders and evidence, but Enid could bear it. All for the chance to finally break down that barrier between them.

"Enid."

Her voice cut through the silence of the night as Wednesday swiveled her chair to face Enid. She tried not to get too excited, but her heart was beating much too rapidly.

"What is it, Wednesday?" she asked cautiously, hoping against hope that it was something good.

Wednesday glanced at Enid, her deep brown eyes unreadable, then at the sliver of moonlight peeking through the window. "Are you unable to transform on the full moon?" she asked.

"Oh."

Of all the topics... Of all the damn topics.

Her words twisted like a knife in Enid's gut, but she forced herself to answer. "I... I can't." She stretched her hand, willing her claws to come out. "This is all I have," she explained morosely, presenting them to Wednesday.

Enid expected no strong reactions from Wednesday. She expected maybe curiosity, or fascination, or possibly boredom or indifference.

But there was no mistaking the subtle way Wednesday scrunched up her nose, the way her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared up, and the way she pushed her chair back by an infinitesimal amount. She'd seen this reaction amongst her fellow Furs, and on her mother, but never in a million years did she imagine it on Wednesday Addams.

Disgust. Suspicion. Disappointment.

And Enid fell from the cloud she was on. She fell from the heavens, crashing down onto Earth.

She plummeted further than she ever thought she would. Things were supposed to be better. Why couldn't she have one conversation where she didn't put Wednesday off for whatever reason?

Why couldn't Enid be normal?

But she couldn't, she shouldn't crash again, and certainly not in front of Wednesday.

So she smiled wanly, like nothing was wrong, and changed into her pajamas, like nothing was wrong, and got into bed.

Like nothing was wrong.

Wednesday hadn't said anything to her since that night. Enid knew she was off, wherever she was, investigating about Crackstone and about the monster, but she completely shut down whenever Enid came home.

It wasn't even the lack of words that did Enid in. It was that, night in and night out, she could feel Wednesday's eyes on her. Observing. Waiting.

How weird must Enid be if even Wednesday found her off-putting?

The last straw came in when Enid popped over to her crochet circle after class one afternoon. She had her project ready—it was getting chilly, so she was making herself a pink striped snood—and Enid had taken her usual spot next to the chatty circle head.

"Gurl, have you heard? I wanna know the deets," she gushed, nudging Enid lightly with a conspiratorial grin.

"Oh?" Enid mirrored her smile, starting on the next few stitches. "I don't think I have, spill!"

"It's your roommate, Wednesday Addams. Someone spotted her going to Xavier Thorpe's workshop, and, get this, she asked him to the Rave'N!"

Her crochet hook clattered to the floor.

"She... what?"

"I know!" her circle head chattered, giggling and oblivious to the turmoil Enid was feeling. "I couldn't believe it either, but surely you must know something, right?"

Enid laughed nervously, hoping it came off more as a giggle and less as a sob. "No, she hasn't mentioned anything yet. I think they're trying to keep it low-key." So low-key that Enid, Wednesday's roommate, hadn't heard of it.

"Well," she kept going, buying Enid's act, "I never expected her to get a date. She just seems so weird and..."

She trailed off, seeing Enid's look of abject disappointment. "Yeah, sorry," she said, not appearing sorry at all, "but you don't mind telling us when you find out more about it?"

"Definitely not," Enid replied flatly, slipping into a frown. "I don't appreciate you bad-mouthing my roommate."

"But—"

"I'm not prying," Enid insisted, trying to keep her voice even. The fibers and stitches were getting tangled up under her hook, and she had to redo the last few stitches.

She hadn't even thought about the Rave'N this term. Would Enid have found a partner anyway? Ajax didn't seem to be interested—last she heard, he asked out a Normie girl when he was serving in Uriah's Heap.

Maybe this was the perfect time for Enid to get her mind off of Wednesday, to slip back into her usual roles, have a little fun, and talk to people without being her usual weird self, even if it was just for that night. Maybe she could rope in a Normie boy herself, or even if she didn't go with anyone, Enid could still pick out the best dress and dye her hair and...

And be someone who wasn't Enid Sinclair, the girl who got left behind. Not Enid Sinclair, the girl so weird, so loud and annoying, that even Wednesday Addams found offense in her existence.

Just for the night. Just for the Rave'N.

Change of plans, then. Enid packed up her work-in-progress snood abruptly, ignoring the questioning stares of everyone in the crochet circle, and she hurried out of the door.

Too deep in thought, Enid wasn't really watching where she was going until she collided with someone, sending her to the floor with a yelp.

It took a couple of moments for Enid to regain her bearings, but when she got her footing again, she recognized the person she bumped into.

"Sorry, Eugene," she said weakly, "wasn't really looking where I was going."

He gave Enid a goofy grin. "That's okay, you can run into me anytime you want," he answered honestly. "By the way, now that you're here..."

Eugene unslung his backpack, pulling out a jar filled with honey. "I wanted to give this to you, as a gift."

Enid took the jar, examining the contents. "Aw, thanks!" She tilted her head curiously. "What for?"

He fixed his glasses awkwardly, before puffing out his chest. "I heard you don't have a date for the Rave'N yet, and I was wondering if we could go together."

Ah.

Eugene Ottinger may not be what most people consider attractive or suave, but he was sweet (like honey), hard-working (like a honeybee), and earnest to boot, which was more than what Enid could say about most other boys in Nevermore, or even in Jericho.

She wanted to make plans for the Rave'N. She didn't expect those plans to fall on her lap so easily.

"I wouldn't mind it," Enid said mildly, "but why me, specifically?"

There wasn't exactly a line of boys ready to ask Enid, after all. If anything, Enid would have to be the one to ask, and, in previous Rave'N nights, there hadn't been much success in that department.

An older Fur asked her once as a joke, and that night was enough of a disaster that Enid decided to do all the asking herself from that day on.

"Because I think you're pretty," Eugene answered bluntly, sending Enid into a flattered tizzy. "And you're really nice to people. Even if Wednesday says I should stay away from you—"

A sharp spike went through Enid's heart, making her almost drop the jar in her hands.

"—I think she's wrong, and that you'd be a nice date to the Rave'N." Eugene beamed at Enid, unaware of the heavy swing in Enid's mood. "So, would you go out with me?"

Enid brushed aside the question for the moment. "Wait, why did Wednesday say you should stay away from me?"

His face dropped momentarily. "I wasn't actually supposed to say that... Hive Code, I shouldn't be revealing secrets."

Eugene looked so genuinely torn that Enid dropped the subject, telling him, "That's alright. I'd love to go with you, but as friends, alright?"

He brightened up considerably. "Thank you! I'll see you there, then," he babbled happily. "Enjoy the honey!" Then he ran off, before Enid could get another word in.

It was an odd interaction, to say the least, but Enid found she didn't regret it one bit. His comment about Wednesday, though... She knew Wednesday joined the Hummers, and that she and Eugene were the only members. She wasn't surprised that they were friends—or what passed as 'friends' for Wednesday—but it was another reminder that she specifically held something against Enid herself.

Wednesday had no problems talking to Bianca Barclay, to Xavier, to Tyler, and of course to Eugene. Anyone but Enid. And not only was Wednesday avoiding her, but she had also been telling people, or at least Eugene, to avoid her as well.

What the hell was Enid doing wrong? She was just about ready to tear her hair out trying to figure out what she did to slight Wednesday this much.

Was she a bad roommate? She really, really tried to be considerate. Enid cut down on her screentime and her annoying habits—no more giggling at texts during her writing hour, no more playing K-Pop songs out loud to dance to, and she even tried to do her homework early as to spend more time in the silence.

Or what if she thought Enid was a bad potential friend and a bad influence? Maybe it was the color, or maybe it was her interests, or her personality.

Enid just wanted to know why.

But that could wait for the time being. She wanted to distract herself with thoughts of the Rave'N, so what better way to do so than by going clothes shopping?

The walk to Jericho did little to clear Enid's head. By the time she made it to the Hawte Kewture storefront, her head was still filled with anxious, spiraling thoughts.

It certainly didn't help that she kept seeing reminders of Wednesday, the most glaring of which was the beautiful, black dress on the displays of a shop she passed by. For a brief, fleeting instant, she pictured Wednesday, cold and aloof, in that dress. Would she dance in the Rave'N? Would she smile? Would she allow Enid to compliment her, maybe give her a dance?

Reality kept kicking Enid down, but it didn't stop her from hoping, from dreaming. Wednesday might call it delusional, but Enid wanted to call it optimistic.

She roamed the aisles and pulled out dresses, checking them on the mirror, trying them on. At that point, Enid was asking herself two questions for every dress—Do I look good in this? and Would Wednesday think this looks good?

And realistically, she knew Wednesday would not give a damn about what Enid was wearing. Some part of her believed Wednesday wouldn't even notice that Enid was also in the Rave'N.

But she couldn't help it. Enid was doing this for herself, but she was doing it in the hopes of being noticed by Wednesday somehow, too.

At the far back, behind one of the racks, a splash of white stood out to Enid. She reached in and pulled out the dress, and Enid audibly gasped when she revealed the whole thing.

Silver, shimmering in the light, with fur on the collars and sleeves, it was simple, elegant, and Enid's style. She slipped in the fitting room to try it on, and she was very pleased to see the dress fit her like a glove.

As Enid turned in the mirror, examining the dress and the way she wore it, she nodded slowly to herself, a smile unconsciously making its way to her face.

This Rave'N might be better than all those previous years.

Her good mood lasted until she got back to Ophelia Hall, to be greeted by Wednesday with her arms crossed and glaring at Enid.

"I will only give you this warning once," she ground out through gritted teeth. "Stay away from Eugene."

Enid sucked in a breath, dropping her shopping bag to the floor. "How did you—"

"That is irrelevant." Wednesday scoffed, turning away from Enid. "I told him not to interact with you. I should have known he would disobey."

She glanced back at Enid through the corner of her eye, suspicion written all over her face. "I don't trust you, Enid Sinclair. You may have Eugene and the rest of the school convinced, but I know you're hiding something."

Wednesday might as well have said, I wish you were dead, and it still would have hurt less.

"I'm not..." Enid responded, though it was more of a whisper than any remark with substance. "I swear, Wednesday, there's nothing I'm hiding."

"Oh?" Wednesday's eyes smoldered. "What were you doing in the woods on Outreach Day?"

She asked it with such conviction, with full confidence that Enid could not answer the question satisfactorily. And... Enid couldn't. The truth was not likely to make Wednesday more inclined to believe her, nor was it going to put Enid in a better light.

Enid was also a terrible liar, so she couldn't even begin to make up an excuse for it.

"That's what I thought," Wednesday said haughtily. With that, she pulled away from Enid completely and went back to her usual evening routines.

Enid tried not to let it get to her. She just needed to keep pushing, to keep putting herself out there. Earn Wednesday's trust, do some nice things for her, those kinds of things.

Wednesday was making it very hard, though.

She refused to take the quad over ice she bought her until Enid herself took a few sips of the drink, which left her jittery and shaking for the whole day, not to mention the acrid aftertaste.

Any time Enid offered to help her in anything at their room—homework, studying, fetching food—Wednesday would glare at her and say nothing. Or at most, "The best thing you can do is leave me alone."

Enid told herself that she only needed one more push. One more chance to prove herself. Maybe when Wednesday was in a better mood, like during the Rave'N... though she started to have doubts whether she would actually attend, considering she heard Xavier un-asked Wednesday to the dance.

As usual, Wednesday refused to answer any questions when she pried.

But the morning of the Rave'N, Enid got her confirmation in the form of Eugene seeking her out.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Enid asked, noticing the glum expression on his face.

The hesitation was clear on his face, enough that Enid could guess what was about to come out of his mouth. "I... won't be able to go to the Rave'N with you tonight," he said reluctantly. "I'm sorry."

Her head started spinning. Possible reasons started flooding her brain—that Eugene realized she wasn't all that worth taking to the Rave'N, that people were making fun of him for asking her, that Wednesday finally got to him. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm alright, it's just that Wednesday—" Her name sent more shivers down Enid's spine. "—isn't going to the Rave'N anymore, since she had that blow-out with Xavier."

"You can still go," Enid nudged gently. "You don't have to follow her example if you don't want to." She sighed. "I really was looking forward to going with you."

Eugene shook his head morosely. "Hive Code," he mumbled. "We'll be having a stakeout operation tonight, and I can't leave her alone to do it."

"Oh... she roped you into her investigation about the monster?"

He lit up. "You know! So I don't have to keep it a secret," Eugene said, grinning widely with braces in full display. "But yes, that's why I can't accompany you tonight. I'm sorry again."

"It's okay." Enid tried for a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Good luck to your investigation, alright?"

It was fine.

She'd go anyway, partner or no partner. Enid picked out a dress, and Enid would get dolled up and ready to dance. This night was for herself, because she was tired of all the baggage that she had to carry as herself.

And she was tired of Wednesday. Why did she keep chasing after her? Wednesday made her stance very clear—she did not trust Enid, she did not want to be friends with Enid, and she wanted to be as far from Enid as possible. Enid knew if she could pick another room, she would.

Wednesday had already attempted to escape Nevermore once, and as far as Enid knew she also left their room past midnight, while she was asleep. Enid barely saw her during class, and not at all in the hallways. It was like being roommates with a ghost with a grudge against her.

But why did she keep trying? What is with Wednesday Addams that made Enid want to bend over backwards for her?

Enid left Ophelia Hall early. She couldn't bear to see Wednesday leave on an adventure with the person she was supposed to go to the Rave'N with. She couldn't bear to see her disdain and disapproval on the one night where Enid was supposed to feel good about herself.

She couldn't bear to see Wednesday for the night.

It was almost a relief to know that she wouldn't attend the dance. Enid found it much easier to slip on the mask when Wednesday wasn't around, because the other girl wouldn't be there to break down her defenses.

She walked into the event room, which was dressed up to have a 'Winter Wonderland' theme—white, foggy, icy. Of course, since it was Nevermore, the atmosphere was a bit spooky, but the chattering of the students, all dressed in their nicest whites and blues, made it feel completely welcoming.

Enid started to feel herself relax. The other girls from Ophelia Hall, Yoko and Divina, approached her to compliment her dress. She giggled, did a little twirl, and shot back her own tiny compliments.

"Your dress rocks," Yoko was saying with a nod of approval. "Where'd you get it?"

"The usual place," Enid admitted coyly, brushing the fur of her collar with her fingertips. "I had to dig for it!"

As she flitted around between people, drinks, and the dance floor, Enid found herself melting into the crowd, into her role. Her smiles and waves and comments became more genuine, and she could really begin to cut loose.

Pale blue drink in hand, Enid settled on a quiet part of the event room after excusing herself from a particularly excitable conversation about her shoes. She sat on a bench, swirling the drink around lazily, as she observed the people in the Rave'N.

Xavier, who had brushed off Wednesday days prior, had arrived with Bianca as his date, though they were currently in the midst of a heated argument. Enid might have wanted to learn about it once upon a time, as gossip fuel and as something to report on her blog, but the sight of Xavier mainly gave Enid an unpleasant reminder of her roommate.

The Mayor's son, Lucas Walker, was hand-in-hand with a Gorgon girl from Enid's year. Close to them, Ajax and one of the Normie girls who worked in Uriah's Heap as a clerk were locked in a chaste kiss. Enid wrinkled her nose and looked elsewhere, but that turned out to be her biggest mistake, as a flash of black entered Enid's view.

At the entrance, talking to Miss Thornhill, was Wednesday Addams. And next to her, with the biggest grin on his face, was Tyler Galpin, her Weathervane co-worker.

She wasn't supposed to be here.

Too many things were running through Enid's head. What happened to the stakeout with Eugene? How and when did she ask Tyler out to the Rave'N? And... and that dress...

Suddenly, those fleeting scenarios that Enid conjured up when she was dress shopping were no longer mere fantasies. Wednesday Addams was there, in the flesh, wearing the most beautiful—

Enid couldn't breathe. Her heart, in a rapid, frantic pace, was practically trying to escape out of her chest.

She couldn't do this. Not with her.

The blue drink in her hands was starting to get more inviting. Enid downed it, hurrying away to find the furthest spot from Wednesday, moving with the crowd to avoid drawing her attention.

Never before had she wanted to blend in with everyone more than she did now. Enid risked a glance to where Wednesday was, where she was appraising the crowd herself. When Wednesday's gaze swept over her general area, Enid turned away, ducking her head.

If this whole Rave'N was going to turn into a dodging game... God, what was wrong with Enid? She felt silly, being this affected by a girl who, by no uncertain terms, simply wanted Enid as far away from her as possible.

Wednesday's presence forced Enid to confront those questions she'd been avoiding again. What was so special about Wednesday Addams, that Enid would keep hurting herself for the chance to be closer? Wednesday presented a dead end to their relationship, yet Enid kept slamming herself against this wall, punching it and breaking her metaphorical knuckles, desperate for a chance to be taken seriously.

Why? Why, why, why?

Enid kept watch from afar, her eyes unable to leave Wednesday's form. Her mental images did not do her justice—she was stunning, deadly, ruthless, and gorgeous in that dress. She was aware of every movement, every expression on Wednesday's face as she talked to Tyler, to Xavier, to Bianca. And then she turned her head...

Locking eyes with Enid.

The world around her froze, the students and staff all a blur. Enid's vision was surrounded by a white haze as Wednesday's deep, dark eyes bore into her soul.

Wednesday's eyes narrowed, sending electrifying sparks down Enid's spine, before moving away to talk to Tyler once more.

Enid coughed out, her throat dry and raspy from the breath she didn't realize she was holding. She shut her eyes, trying to shut everything else around her with them, but to no avail. People were still chatting and chittering away, the music booming through her ears, and Wednesday, far away as she was, branded onto the back of Enid's eyelids.

Why?

The song fades into another, a different vibe, more twangy and rhythmic. Enid cracked her eyes open, nausea setting in at the back of her head.

Everyone else was in white and sky blue and grey—Wednesday stuck out in black. Enid could not take her eyes off of her.

And Wednesday began to dance.

There was a strange sort of elegance to her jerky movements. It wasn't a dance Enid was used to watching, but it was no less engaging. Wednesday, pouring her passion into her arm swings and her steps and her motions, gaining the attention of the rest of Nevermore, of Tyler, of Enid.

She was mesmerizing.

Wednesday moved around Tyler, making him her impromptu dance partner. Even if he wasn't following the same steps, the broad smile on his face betrayed his enjoyment of the whole routine.

Enid could not stop staring. A seed of something familiar was beginning to take root in her gut.

It was that something she felt when her brothers wolfed out when they came of age, and she did not. When her mother would dote on her siblings and had nothing for Enid but chastisements and reproaches.

It was that something she felt when she stepped foot into Nevermore, when she saw everyone in cliques she'd never be able to join. When she saw couples kiss in the courtyard and hold hands in the hallways.

It was that something she felt when Wednesday would talk to anyone and everyone. Except Enid. Anyone but Enid.

And in her chest, a different feeling—something that made her blood rush and her head dizzy and her heart stop. All of which started when Wednesday Addams stepped foot in Ophelia Hall, but she refused to entertain the idea.

All of which was happening now, as Enid Sinclair watched her from afar.

Shit.

If Enid thought life was unfair, then clearly she hadn't lived long enough yet, because this... this was beyond unfair. It was cruel. It was ironic. And it was impossible.

She was in love with Wednesday Addams.

The moment of realization didn't come with the expected dread, nor was it something earth-shattering. Rather, it filled Enid with resignation.

The answer had been staring at her in the face this whole time. Because why else would she be such a doormat for her? Why else would she keep trying, despite all the failures? Why else would she be so desperate for Wednesday's validation?

Why else would she find Wednesday Addams, dancing in the spotlight, so remarkably beautiful?

She spotted Enid, through the crowd, as she wove around Tyler. The eye contact never once interrupted her movement, but Wednesday raised her head defiantly as she kept going.

The message was sent. This performance is not for you.

Enid's heart sank deep into her stomach. She felt like throwing up. She needed to get away.

She pushed past the students, finding her way to the exit of the event room and nearly slamming the door behind her. The warm evening air hit her face, coaxing out some of the tears that threatened to fall.

Despite all the feelings raging inside her, the tears welling up in her eyes, Enid didn't cry. There were moments when she was overcome with intense emotion, too great for tears and sobs, so she would sit there and let the tides wash over her while she stared at nothing and everything.

All Enid did was lean back against the wall, waiting, willing the pain away. Her eyes shut, her lips quivering, and her world quiet and empty.

Her breaths gradually became more regular, her heartbeat slowing down, and Enid, for a brief moment, stopped thinking about Wednesday Addams.

Life wasn't fair, but she was still there to live it. Time to get back up.

And then the screams began.

Enid jerked forwards, eyes snapping open at the sounds coming from within the events hall. Panicked yelps and screeches from the students of Nevermore sounded out in a horrible cacophony as they all rushed out the doors, covered in... blood?

Adrenaline set into Enid's nerves at the grisly sight. What happened?

She pressed through the crowd, avoiding the stampede, and went back inside the chaotic event room. The sprinklers were on, spewing a liquid that looked suspiciously like blood, though with a sniff, Enid decided it was paint instead. Everyone around her was running in different directions—bumping against each other, slipping on the pools of liquid that have formed, and scrubbing their clothes of the red fluid.

In the center, serene and unbothered, was Wednesday. Despite being covered in red splotches of paint, she was in her element. Her expression even held a hint of disappointment. If Enid were to guess, it was possibly because the sprinkler fluid was not really blood.

Wednesday began making her way through the crowd, finally deciding to leave the Rave'N. Enid swerved to the side, trying to give Wednesday a wide berth, but she slipped and stumbled on the wet floor.

She clipped Wednesday's shoulder with her hand, and Wednesday went stiff, her back arching and almost falling over herself.

Enid scrambled to catch her before she could hit the floor. Wednesday's face was blank, staring at the ceiling above them, which sent Enid into a panicked frenzy. What was happening? Was Wednesday alright?

Before she could call any of the faculty—Miss Thornhill was only a few feet away—Wednesday gasped for breath in Enid's arms, trembling as she attempted to right herself and release herself from Enid's grasp.

She let go of Wednesday, quick as if Enid was burnt by her touch, and caught the look on Wednesday's face. Enid could make out disorientation, dread, and—

Wednesday glanced at Enid. It wasn't a glare. All the emotions Enid had read were replaced by fear.

"Eugene," she said, voice hoarse and cracking. "Eugene is in trouble."

"Right now?" Enid asked urgently, her voice rising, but Wednesday never gave her an answer, shoving past her roughly and running out of the hall.

"Wednesday, wait!"

Enid watched as she ran into the a dark part of the woods. She couldn't keep up, running to keep chase, and she lost sight of Wednesday eventually.

In the deep darkness, Enid kept her guard up. If she didn't have enhanced senses from being a Werewolf, she would have been as good as blind in the forest.

She tried to go towards the same direction as she remembered Wednesday going, but she found neither hide nor hair of the other girl. Enid didn't know how deep in the woods they have gotten, but she had to find Wednesday—and find Eugene if he was also indeed on a stakeout.

Her ears perked up as she recognized Wednesday's voice, distant and muffled, piercing the silence of the woods. "Eugene! Where are you?"

Enid bounded after the sound, her dress tearing at twigs sticking out of the shrubbery around her, but that didn't matter.

"Wednesday?" came from a different direction, causing Enid to freeze. That was Eugene. If he was in trouble, like Wednesday seemed to think he was...

Should she go for Eugene, or should she keep heading towards Wednesday?

All of Enid's senses suddenly roared to life, telling her to run, away and fast, as she heard an all-too-familiar snarl descend upon the source of Eugene's voice.

Enid, much too far away to be of any help, could only hear Wednesday's helpless wails as she heard claws tearing through flesh and massive, bounding footsteps. "Eugene! No!"

She kept running. She kept running until she found the kneeling figure of Wednesday over a bloodied mess. Eugene.

The sight caused Enid to whimper, to nearly throw up. Was he still alive? Oh, God, why couldn't she have run faster? She, too, sank to her knees, trying to check for a pulse and frantically looking around and wondering if she should yell for help.

Wednesday, wracked with unshed tears, finally wrenched her gaze away from Eugene and made eye contact with Enid. All the fear, all the concern and worry and anxiety, it all drained away from her face, only to be replaced by pure, unadulterated fury.

"How could you do this to him?" Her voice, frigid, quiet, and burning with barely-contained anguish.

Enid stumbled backwards, falling flat on her bottom. She wanted to crawl away from Wednesday, to get away from the harshest glare she'd ever seen on her. "I didn't... I told him..." Her breathing turned rapid, manic, as she stammered her defense out. "I wanted him to go with me and– and I thought he was with you and then—"

Footsteps approached. Wednesday ignored them.

"Please, Wednesday, I didn't want this to happen. I don't– I don't know what you want me to tell you!"

A pair of red boots came into view. Miss Thornhill had arrived to the scene, hand over her mouth in shock. "Oh my God, is he alive?" she gasped.

But Wednesday did not answer her. Enid could not look away from Wednesday's accusatory look.

And Enid knew she wouldn't be sleeping in their room tonight.

The rest of the night—getting Eugene, thankfully alive, back to the Nevermore infirmary, telling Principal Weems about the incident, climbing back up to Ophelia Hall and requesting Miss Thornhill for a temporary relocation to Yoko's room below them—Enid didn't really acknowledge anything. Her body was on autopilot, moving of its own accord, while her mind stayed numb, replaying the events that lead up to her current state.

She couldn't dwell on anything for more than a few moments. The exhaustion was catching up to her. Enid could barely muster up the energy to change out of her dress, stained red not with fake blood but the very real blood of a friend, and to get showered.

Yoko, mercifully, didn't comment on Enid's off-character demeanor, instead offering her the spare mattress they used for the rare gossip session sleepover.

Enid was out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

After a night of dreamless sleep, she was nudged awake gently by Yoko. Enid grumbled and buried herself deeper into her blanket.

"Enid, you gotta wake up, girl," Yoko whispered gently, nudging her again. "Weems wants to talk to you."

Just the act of regaining consciousness sent a sharp headache down Enid's forehead. And Principal Weems? Didn't she talk to Enid the night before?

She grumbled some more before ultimately getting up and pushing past Yoko, if a little rudely. Enid wasn't ready to deal with anything for the day yet.

Enid would apologize later.

However, she wouldn't really get the time to once she heard Principal Weems suggestion.

"Therapy?" Enid asked incredulously. "But I'm—"

"With all due respect, Miss Sinclair, you are not fine." Weems looked at Enid with such sympathy, such pity. "Last night was a huge ordeal for any one student not named Wednesday Addams to deal with, and it's standard procedure for Nevermore to send its students to therapy after traumatizing events such as, ah, the injury of your friend."

She bit her lip. Enid wasn't keen on sharing with a Normie therapist, but... "There's no way to get out of this, is there?"

Principal Weems smiled sadly. "Afraid not, Miss Sinclair."

Hence, she spent her Thursday morning—one of her few free periods for the week—sitting across Dr. Kinbott and anxiously figuring out what to tell her.

"You don't have to be so nervous, Enid," Dr. Kinbott soothed her. "We'll talk about what you want to talk about, okay? We just need to get the ball rolling."

If anything, that only caused Enid to clam up more. She didn't want to confront anything, and she didn't want to talk. Whatever feelings Enid may be having, they could stay locked up within her for only a bit longer.

When a few moments passed and Enid still hadn't said a word, Dr. Kinbott hummed in acknowledgment. "I understand that it's hard to open up about these kinds of things, but it would be much healthier for you to talk about them."

She leaned forward. "Maybe we could start with something specific and work from there. What are your plans for the following days?"

Enid was painfully reminded that the weekend was Parents' Weekend, which meant that her mother and father would be coming over to Nevermore. Which meant a lot more nagging to look forward to.

"I don't have a lot of plans..." she said, hoping to skirt around the topic of Parents' Weekend. "I really just want to be left alone."

No sequence of words could have been more untrue, but that was what Enid was willing to share.

Unfortunately, Dr. Kinbott sensed the sidestepping as she shook her head. "I know it's Parents' Weekend, Enid. You're not the only student to come here about it, you know?"

And if I talk about them, that doesn't make me any less pathetic, does it? If I talk about anything, that just shows I'm even more of a disappointment like my mother keeps saying.

"They'll be here for my brothers," she confessed aloud instead. "Me, I'm alright. Probably will just check on my grades or something."

It wasn't like Enid was slipping. Her grades weren't the most stellar, but exceptional enough for her mother not to withdraw her from Nevermore despite the lack of wolfing out.

If she could manage half a dozen extra-curriculars and still keep up with her classes, it wasn't anything special. Anyone could do it. Hell, Wednesday did it better.

It just proved that Enid was fine.

Other things bothered Enid, but she wasn't likely to open up on them either—the events of the Rave'N, Eugene's condition, and, of course, Wednesday Addams.

Dr. Kinbott wrote something in her notes, something that Enid couldn't quite see from her seat. Whatever it was, it made Enid squirm uncomfortably.

"Hm, perhaps not the Parents' Weekend then," she noted, steepling her fingers. "Something closer to your heart, then? Your peers?"

Why does everyone—

"How are you getting along with Wednesday Addams? I believe she's your roommate."

Somewhere within Enid, a dam burst, shattering any reluctance she may have had.

"I said I don't want to talk!" Enid snapped, taking Dr. Kinbott by surprise. "What does it matter anyway? Will it fix anything? Is it going to make me normal or more acceptable to everyone?"

She stood up abruptly. "And why does everyone keep asking me about Wednesday? She hates me. I don't know how she's doing—she never talks to me!"

Dr. Kinbott was taken aback. "Enid," she tried, raising a hand gently, but to no avail. She was back in the woods again, blood rushing past her ears and adrenaline flooding her brain.

"Nobody ever came up to me, ever, without mentioning Wednesday! I'm just her roommate—barely her roommate—and I'm not even her friend, but it's always Wednesday this and Wednesday that," Enid ranted, raved, as Dr. Kinbott, resigned, sat back and started taking notes.

"I'm so tired, like, all the time," she moaned, putting her face in her hands. "Because I still keep trying to be her friend, on top of everything else I have to deal with."

"Why do you keep trying?" Dr. Kinbott cut in curiously. "Wednesday has proven to be... difficult, but—"

"I don't know!" Enid choked out, sinking back into her seat, closing her hands into fists. "No, I do know, and I hate it. I hate—"

Her throat closed up, and Enid tried again. "It's because I lo– because I hate– because I don't know," she stammered out miserably. "I'm so stupid."

Dr. Kinbott dropped her pen on the desk, interrupting Enid with a firm, "No! You are not stupid, Enid. You're feeling a lot of things, but that doesn't make you stupid."

"Like hell it doesn't," Enid spat. On most days, she wouldn't be so impolite, but everything was coming at her a million miles a minute. Courtesy was not in the forefront of Enid's mind. "Who keeps chasing after someone who actively hates them? Why did I pick the wrong person to... to..."

"It's okay, Enid," Dr. Kinbott said gently as Enid's shoulders shook from trying to hold back her sobs.

"But it isn't. It's never going to be okay."

How much of Dr. Kinbott's time had Enid wasted already?

"Enid," Dr. Kinbott said, looking at her intently. "You clearly have a lot of things to discuss, and this hour we have isn't going to be nearly enough. Why don't you come back here every Thursday? I'd be happy to help you work it out."

And waste more of Dr Kinbott's time?

She forced herself to take a deep breath. "It's fine," Enid replied. "I don't think I'll need it."

A stark contrast to her earlier statement, to her entire impassioned speech, but if it got her out of this session, it was welcome.

"I'm afraid I have to insist," Dr. Kinbott disagreed. "Your Principal Weems seemed quite keen to make sure that you were doing alright."

This was news to Enid. Principal Weems never took special interest in Enid—in fact, barring the previous night, she'd spoken to her directly only twice since her first enrollment to Nevermore.

Enid fidgeted in her seat. "Do I really have to?"

"Well," Dr. Kinbott began, clapping her hands together, "I couldn't force you to come here and talk about things, but I do think it's in your best interests. I want to help you, Enid. It's my job, after all!"

Despite her initial misgivings, Enid couldn't deny that finally getting to speak up, to stop bottling her feelings, it didn't feel good, but it was certainly cathartic. Dr. Kinbott made an effort to listen, at least, which was more than she could say for other people.

In other words, Enid was sorely tempted.

"I'll think about it," Enid mumbled. She made to stand up. "May I go..?"

"I won't stop you," Dr. Kinbott said, gesturing to the door, "but are you sure there's nothing else you'd like to talk about? I'd be happy to help."

Thoughts of the upcoming Parents' Weekend flooded Enid's mind, but she shook her head emphatically. She could talk about Wednesday, but her siblings, her mother? That was another story.

Perhaps a story Enid would never tell. Why would she?

It was mostly whining anyway.

"That's all, thank you." Enid went for a quick smile before hurrying to the door. She didn't look back—Enid wasn't ready to see the disappointment in Dr. Kinbott's face for avoiding most of her questions.

Enid checked her phone for the time, finding that she had about an hour before she needed to be back in Nevermore proper. Wanting to clear her head, Enid decided she could duck into the Weathervane to get the sweetest chocolate drink she could possibly order.

However, as soon as Enid shut the office door behind her, she looked up to see her, peering through the windows of the Weathervane.

She froze, phone in hand, as Wednesday made eye contact with her from across the street. Wednesday was in a booth, clutching a coffee cup, and she was staring at Enid.

Wednesday's eyes were gaunt, but no less sharp. Enid noticed her bottom lip tightening, before Wednesday averted her eyes.

All plans to order any drinks fizzled out. She instead turned on her heel and walked briskly to the path back to Nevermore.

Enid could get the drink some other day.

To stay on the safe side, Enid stayed in Yoko's room again that night, dodging all her attempts to ask about the events of the Rave'N and about her mandatory therapy appointment. She roped Yoko into another nail-painting session, though she stopped responding whenever the topic got too close to something sensitive.

As a result, Enid was quiet for most of it, letting the vampire fill the silence with her stories as she applied different colors on Enid's nails.

Enid's heart wasn't really in the manicure session, but she went through the motions regardless. At this point, it was one of her only tethers to normalcy.

She tried to slip back into their room the following night. Mercifully, Wednesday did not comment on (nor react whatsoever to) Enid's presence. Enid took it as a sign that, though she should leave Wednesday alone, she was allowed to at least go and have the room back again.

But all too soon, Enid woke up to an empty room, and she knew her mother was coming to Nevermore.

Enid didn't bother putting on anything special. School uniform, the usual accessories, minimal makeup—if she put any extra effort in, it's only more ammunition for her mother to criticize. It was best if anything she took issue with wasn't anything Enid spent time on.

Dealing with Esther Sinclair took almost all of Enid's energy. Batting away all the nagging, trying not to fold under her countless demands, it was a wonder how her mother found new ways to put Enid down.

Her mother had a unique way of getting under her skin.

As Principal Weems announced the official start of Parents' Weekend, Enid did her best to keep her face impassive. She almost flinched at the reminder of Eugene, considering she couldn't find it in herself to visit. She tried not to look for Wednesday in the crowd.

She definitely wasn't looking for her family.

And yet, she must.

The speech ended. Everyone around her started milling about, reconnecting with their respective parents. Enid didn't need to expend any effort to find her own—her rambunctious brothers were already starting a ruckus, and that's all she needed to locate them.

With a sigh, Enid took a step towards them. Slowly, reluctantly, another. Before she knew it, her mom was tutting as she encircled Enid, examining her and asking a million questions a minute.

"Are you really going to make me ask again?" Esther said with a sigh.

Enid was aware this was about wolfing out, but she played dumb, considering they both knew the answer already. "Still single, mom. Don't really have time to be looking at boys right now." Or girls. But maybe one particular girl.

Not that it's someone you'd approve of. Not that she approves of me either.

"I'm not talking about boys," she said, scoffing. "Have you wolfed out yet?"

Yes, the one question her mother was interested in. Voicemails, every full moon, asking the same thing. Every time she came home from Nevermore. Every time her parents visited her siblings—and never Enid, because why would they?

Enid's gaze was firmly on the floor. "No," she replied flatly.

She didn't need to look to know what expression her mom was wearing. "Well, that is a disappointment," Esther reproached her. And that was that. She was back to fussing over her brothers.

Her dad loomed from behind her, a quiet presence that Enid found somewhat calming. He gave her a small smile, before holding out his hands for a quick hug.

She sank into it with much fervor. Murray Sinclair wasn't a man of many words, but Enid appreciated having him in her corner. He was one of the few people to actually spend time with Enid before her brothers.

But Esther ran a tight ship, so even that wasn't enough to lift her spirits when she was home in San Francisco, and it barely helped now that her mom was in Nevermore, doting on her siblings and nagging at Enid.

Still, she clung to her dad. The comfort, if temporary, was probably what kept her going for the following days.

As expected, her mom had already planned their entire stay down to the minute. For lunch, a quick stop in the Jericho diner—red meat steaks, of course—then an afternoon discussion with Principal Weems about all their statuses.

Enid was already familiar with how the conversation would go, having been able to sit in for her first year: her mom would emphasize that Enid was attending Nevermore to learn how to wolf out, Principal Weems would reassure her that Enid was making progress and that it would eventually happen, and her mom would never believe her.

Because Enid would never wolf out.

There wasn't any point attending the succeeding appointments. She knew her mom would heap praises upon her brothers, then discuss pulling Enid out so she could 'focus on being a proper wolf'. Principal Weems always managed to talk her out of it, but Enid was scared that she'd be unsuccessful eventually.

Her mom would also insist that they all cram themselves in the same, cramped inn room and sleep in close quarters. "It's how the other packs do it!" Esther would crow proudly. "It brings us closer as a family."

Enid craved the presence of her stuffed toys, the familiar posters and decorations, and her roommate from across the room. Even if Wednesday's distance was frigid and uncomfortable, she'd take it over the suffocation that she experienced with these nights.

Time after time, Enid would fruitlessly attempt to get out of the 'family activities' that always ended up being her brothers being loud jerks while her mom would gaze upon them fondly while giving Enid a disappointed side-eye.

But the next day, her mom was uncharacteristically nice.

She planned a picnic on the Nevermore grounds, much like many of the other families present. Her mother was very particular about appearing 'normal, like most other people', which led to showy gestures like this.

"Look at us, one big happy Werewolf family!" was what Esther Sinclair wanted to convey, but in Enid's eyes, having been excluded in event after event, they were empty promises that prioritized appearances over actual substance.

This time, though, her mom was taking extra care in giving Enid extra portions of meat, and asking her about the food more often. Something was definitely up.

Then her mom handed her an envelope. "I got you a little something," she cooed, in a voice closer to what she would use for Enid's brothers.

Enid's hands shook as she took out the contents, recognizing the pamphlets for various lycanthropy conversion camps. In previous summers, Esther would hang the threat of sending her to these camps over her head. Enid always refused, being told horror stories about things going wrong by her cousins.

Now, it seemed, her mother's patience had finally run out.

"You can finally be normal again! A chance to wolf out; it worked for your cousin Lucille, and I'm happy to give you the same chance, Enid. I only want what's best for you."

She couldn't find her voice. Enid dumbly flipped through each brochure, seeing the words 'Lycanthropy Conversion Camp' over and over again, though she wasn't really processing the contents.

And the worst part?

Enid was starting to seriously consider going.

As her mother continued prattling on about the joys of summer camp, a few weeks in a remote location in the mountains, Enid could only focus on the first part of her mother's offer. The chance to be normal again.

Was that what Wednesday would want from her?

It didn't sound right. Wednesday was as far from normal as she could be.

But... she did seem personally offended by the fact that Enid could not transform. Would she finally set aside her distrust if Enid wolfed out? Would it fix anything between them?

Wasn't this what Enid wanted, all along?

The rest of the day passed her by. All Enid could think of were those damn pamphlets. She wanted to say no, like all those years ago, and she never liked the idea.

It was so hard. Enid was so exhausted, and she was getting desperate on top of everything. She'd give anything for things to be okay again. And if it was giving her mom what she wanted, attending one of these camps?

What was Enid even doing with her life? She was worrying about so many shallow things, least of all about a girl who did not care, and she wasn't doing anything substantial. Maybe camp was going to straighten her out.

(Wednesday's father got arrested, and she cleared his name the following day. How did she do it? How could Enid even measure up to that?)

Once upon a time, Enid would have told her mother off. She would have shoved the pamphlets back to her, telling her that she would wolf out in her own time, that she would decide the perfect opportunity to grow and learn, because Enid was her own person.

But not this time.

This time, all Enid did was give a weak nod, and her mother finally smiled at her.

What had she agreed to?

The thoughts of going to lycanthropy conversion camp followed her wherever she went, even long after her parents had left Nevermore. Why did she say yes? Did Enid truly want this?

Classes were practically secondary—she did the bare minimum for work and she listened with one ear. Enid was a blank slate for everyone, too zoned out to put up the same act she always had. She went through her days in a haze, talking to people on autopilot, going through the motions of her extracurriculars. She stopped writing in her blog.

Wednesday didn't care. As long as Enid was quiet and not bothering her, far across her side of the room, then she could pretend Enid didn't exist.

Enid didn't feel like she existed anyway. Enid Sinclair was someone else now. She was just a disappointment.

Did anyone notice the change in her behavior? Not really. Nobody asked anything. Crochet club was all gossip and drama club was memorizing lines, lines, and lines.

What's there to notice? Enid was fine.

But she did bump into Principal Weems on Wednesday afternoon. It wasn't a literal collision, though Weems had to tug on Enid's shoulder to get her attention before she could reach the end of the hallway.

"Miss Sinclair, a moment please?" She jerked her head back, gesturing to an alcove.

Not like she had a choice. Enid wordlessly followed her to the semi-private spot, waiting for her to elaborate.

"How are things with Dr. Kinbott? Were you able to talk things through with her?" she asked, concern written all over her face.

"Went okay."

Principal Weems pursed her lips. "Dr. Kinbott requested another appointment with you," she relayed.

"I'll come over tomorrow. Thank you."

She stared at Enid, hesitating for a brief moment, before nodding and letting Enid continue on her way to her next class.

If even Weems didn't comment on it, then everything was perfectly fine.

Enid had sincerely forgotten that she wanted to try a second session to let her feelings out. Last Thursday seemed so far away now...

And in the blink of an eye, she was back at Kinbott's office.

"It's good to see you back, Enid." She beamed warmly at her. "I won't ask about Parents' Weekend, because I know it's a sensitive topic."

Because there's nothing to talk about. I made my choices.

"What do you do for fun?" Dr. Kinbott pivoted instead, chin on her palm. "I personally like to try my hand at taxidermy. Sewing has always been something I liked, and it was nice being able to apply it here."

For... fun?

Enid enjoyed crochet enough. It was an activity she chose for herself, not something decided for her by her mom or an expectation from a Werewolf such as herself. Lately, though, the hobby was dragging on her, making it feel more like a chore, an obligation.

She couldn't stand to work on her snood, knowing that was when Enid learned about Wednesday and Xavier, and when Eugene asked her to the Rave'N. She couldn't stand the way her fellow circle members would giggle and trade stories with each other about everyone in Nevermore, because she knew she was probably one of their frequent targets.

Silly Enid, hated by her roommate. Couldn't get a date for the Rave'N except some dorky kid who stood her up. Bubbly, naïve Enid who would smile and take any insults to her face.

Enid was sure they would be making fun of her behind her back. It drained the enjoyment she had for attending the meetings.

Despite this, Enid brought it up. "I crochet on occasion," she admitted to the kind doctor in front of her. "But I don't feel very inspired lately."

"I think you should keep at it," Dr. Kinbott advised. "When the brain is focused during an activity, on something you enjoy doing—"

From her desk, Dr. Kinbott's phone started vibrating, ringing with a jaunty tune Enid heard on the radio once.

"Oh!" She picked up the phone, smiling ruefully at Enid. "Would you mind? I need to take this."

"Go ahead, Ma'am."

Dr. Kinbott scurried to the exit of her office, phone already answered and on her ear. The door shut faintly behind Enid with a click!

Her desk was strewn with papers. At the center, Enid could see what was presumably her file, with a square photograph of herself grinning right up at her on the upper left corner.

Undeniably, she burned with curiosity. What notes had she been taking about Enid?

She glanced back at the door. Dr. Kinbott seemed to be in a deep, heated conversation that didn't appear likely to end soon.

Enid took this chance to switch to Dr. Kinbott's side of the table, ready to read her own file, when something next to it caught her eye.

ADDAMS, WEDNESDAY FRIDAY

Right on top, her photograph glared up at Enid.

Wait, Wednesday also sees Dr. Kinbott? For what?

Wednesday wasn't the type to willingly seek professional help (but then again, neither was Enid), so there must have been a reason that Dr. Kinbott had a file on her.

She couldn't help it. Enid picked up the file and began to read, despite the twisting guilt in her gut. An invasion of privacy, both Wednesday's and Dr. Kinbott's, but Enid was wanting for answers.

Her eyes skimmed past the usual details, though her eyes caught on one line.

Date of Birth: 2002/10/13

That was in a week. Wednesday Addams's birthday was in a week, and Enid didn't know what to do with the information. Did she even celebrate it? How did she celebrate it? Were there gifts, and did she do parties, but maybe—

Enid shook her head to clear her thoughts. It wasn't important. Not now, at least.

Reason for admission: Court-mandated therapy sessions

Ah. The piranhas incident that she was infamous for. Of course.

She flipped the page over, revealing Therapy Notes as the header. Once again, a deep-seated sense of wrongness spread over Enid. She shouldn't be reading these. They're not for her eyes, and she should go back to her seat and wait for Dr. Kinbott to wrap up her phone call.

But she pressed forward.

Wednesday has been a difficult client. Shortly after starting our first meeting, she managed to escape through the bathroom window after a few minutes of deflecting my questions and being generally uncooperative.

She seems to have a deep-rooted distrust in authority figures, such as myself, Principal Weems, and Sheriff Galpin. Oftentimes, she would bite back with impolite retorts and would never take anything I say seriously.

Wednesday also clams up on the mention of a few key personal details, such as her parents, her relationships with her peers—particularly with her roommate, Enid Sinclair

Enid's breath caught in her throat as she read her own name. She even mentioned it to Dr. Kinbott? What the hell is her problem with Enid?

—though she never elaborates. Most of the notes I've been able to scrounge up are from offhanded remarks, often accompanied by her usual disagreeable attitude.

The door clicked open. Enid dropped the file, scrambling back to her seat, but it was too late. Dr. Kinbott looked aghast at her intrusion.

"Oh, dear me," she said sternly, "those are not for you to read."

"Sorry," Enid murmured in reply, shrinking deeper into her seat. A cold feeling started washing over her shoulders, spreading down in a wave, numbing her fingertips and making her shiver. She shouldn't have looked. She shouldn't have pried. She shouldn't have—

"Enid, hey," Dr. Kinbott broke in kindly, "I'm not too mad about it. It's okay."

She couldn't breathe.

"Enid," she tried again, leaning into her space and clasping her shoulder gently. "I understand, don't worry, I should have locked up before answering the call."

"I'm sorry..." Enid finally croaked out. "I was just– I got curious, and–"

"I get it." Dr. Kinbott went for a weak smile. "It's normal to be curious. I would appreciate it if you didn't do it again, but it's not the end of the world."

But the world was closing in around her. Enid tried to nod her assent, but it came out more like a half-jerk of her head.

Dr. Kinbott's hand remained on Enid's shoulder, and she tried to focus on the sensation, allowing it to ground her. Her breathing slowly became more regular as the tightness in her chest loosened up.

"I– I'm sorry," Enid choked out, rubbing her face miserably. "I really shouldn't have looked, I just... I'm so lost. I want answers."

"That's what these sessions are for," Dr. Kinbott reminded soothingly. "Shall we talk about them? This is a safe space for you to share your thoughts."

She put the files away, leaving her desk empty, before focusing on Enid. "We can talk about anything at all. Just you and me."

"R-right."

Though she no longer felt like suffocating, Enid's throat felt constricted. All her will to talk and expel the feelings within her had dried up.

Should she talk about the lycanthropy camps? About Wednesday? They might just send her spiraling again.

Her reluctance was born partly out of guilt, as well. In the last session, Enid feared wasting Dr. Kinbott's time. In this one, she snooped. Yet both times, Dr. Kinbott kept offering her services.

Sure, it was her job, but Enid didn't deserve the help.

Much like in their first session, though, Dr. Kinbott pushed forward. "We could also go back to what I was saying earlier. Crochet, was it?"

Enid managed a nod.

Dr. Kinbott hummed appreciatively. "That's a good hobby to keep your mind off of things. And, well, I don't think we'd be able to have a productive conversation until you've loosened up, so I'm giving you homework."

"Homework?" asked Enid, puzzled.

"It's very simple," Dr. Kinbott promised. "I only want you to focus on that hobby of yours for the next week. We won't even have to meet next Thursday if you don't want to, but I would like for you to have a project you can put your mind to. It may help clear up what's bouncing around in there, alright?"

On the surface, a relatively simple request. She was already working on a snood (though, again, with a bad taste in her mouth), and crochet was relatively quick and Dr. Kinbott had good points about it being a good distraction.

But... sometimes Enid simply didn't have the energy for the bare minimum of staying alive. Throwing in a new crochet project seemed excessive, draining, worthless even.

"If it helps," Enid muttered, fiddling with the buttons on her dress.

"I can't be 100% certain," Dr. Kinbott said, "but I think this has a good chance of having a great effect on you."

The date Enid saw on Wednesday's file flashed in her head, and an idea started growing. An idea that filled her with trepidation, but an idea nonetheless.

Would Wednesday like it? Probably not. But Enid had to try.

"I'll do it."

A quick trip to Jericho ensured she got the proper materials—mostly black and gray yarns—but Enid realized she couldn't work on it in Nevermore. If she tried in her crochet circle, the gossip would certainly reach Wednesday's ears. And obviously, she couldn't do it in their room either, considering Wednesday was mostly awake past midnight and she could walk in at any moment to catch Enid.

Not to mention, trying to hide this from her would only cement the suspicion in Wednesday's head.

No, she had to find a private workplace, or at least somewhere that Wednesday wouldn't go too often to.

Walking aimlessly around Jericho, Enid was wracking her brain for ideas. She absent-mindedly walked into the Weathervane as she did so, remembering the sweet drink she wanted from last week. No Wednesday in sight, so Enid could at least order it now.

"Hey, Enid!" From behind the counter, Tyler greeted her, pulling Enid out of her daze. "It's good to see you again."

The sight of Tyler sent her insides into a frenzy, an unwelcome reminder of him and Wednesday during the Rave'N. Enid tamped the feelings down, plastering a smile on her face as she nodded at him.

Wednesday chose him. Enid can't change that. When you love someone, you have to learn to let them go.

"Something real sweet, I think," Enid requested. "Choc—" Wait, the full moon is this week. Chocolate was definitely a bad idea. "—er, sorry, not chocolate, but an iced caramel macchiato. Extra hon—" She grimaced mid-sentence, remembering the jar of honey on Enid's bedside that she hadn't touched since Eugene's attack. "—sorry, I mean—"

"Breathe," Tyler interrupted her nervous rambling. He chuckled lightly at her, tapping some keys on the register. "Why don't I surprise you? As long as it's sweet and not chocolate, right?"

"And no honey," she murmured, eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

A warm smile. Enid wished he wasn't so nice so that she could hate him, but he deserved none of her ire. "You got it. I'll bring it to you," he told her.

When Enid was settled comfortably on her seat, she debated on starting her new project. If she wanted to get it ready for Wednesday's birthday, she should begin already.

She poked through the bags she was carrying, pulling out a skein of black yarn and a moderately-sized hook. Enid started on the foundation stitches—it was going to be a monochrome version of the snood she was making for herself—but as she was getting to the end, Tyler slipped into the seat in front of her, pushing the drink forward.

He put colored sprinkles on the whipped cream, and the bottom of the cup had a thicker layer of caramel syrup.

"Very sweet," Tyler promised charmingly, "much like you seem to be."

"Tell Wednesday that," she said, frowning. Her eyes never left the hook.

Tyler sighed. "I would, if she was talking to me." He gestured to the bundle of fabric and yarn in Enid's hands. "And I presume that's for her..? You two made up?"

Enid stilled her hands momentarily. Wednesday stopped talking to Tyler? "Can you keep a secret?" Enid asked. "And also, what do you mean Wednesday isn't talking to you? I thought you two were... you know..."

She carefully avoided acknowledging Tyler's last question.

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but the worry and frustration were etched subtly across his face. "I thought so too," Tyler admitted. "And it depends on the secret, what's it about?"

"It's Wednesday's birthday next week. On the 13th." She raised the yarn around her fingers. "It's for her."

"Ah!" He frowned. "Wait, you think she'll take a gift from you?"

A twinge of pain went down Enid's side at the reminder. "I have to try," she said, suddenly determined.

Things could change. If Wednesday wasn't speaking to Tyler, then it stood to reason that she could start talking to Enid at some point.

(Unlikely, but Enid hoped. It just meant Wednesday was even more volatile than usual.)

Wednesday was unlikely to accept a gift upfront from Enid, though. Considering her past attempts, she would most likely reject the gift if she were the one presenting it.

She might have to enlist the help of someone Wednesday trusted. Someone she could hand the gift to and ensure it got to her anonymously.

Tyler would've been her first option, but apparently they haven't been doing too well recently. Eugene... Enid glanced at the yarn in her hands, contemplating. Maybe after this snood was done, she could make something small for Eugene for when he woke up. It would be a nice gesture, wouldn't it?

In any case, Enid was out of ideas for who else Wednesday could be close to.

"Is Wednesday friends with anyone else?" she asked him curiously.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I told you last time, she's not really the type to make friends," he replied. "But... I guess there's Thing."

Thing. The disembodied hand that Enid was only ever able to talk to maybe once or twice. Tyler was right, he was probably close to Wednesday, wasn't he?

"That's it, thank you!" She wasn't sure if he'd agree to Enid's plan, or if he would even want to talk to Enid, considering Wednesday had apparently been warning people away from interacting with her, but it was a potential way out.

She took a swig from her drink, letting the sweetness overflow her tongue and making her shudder with the sensation. There was hope, and that put a bit of pep in her step. "I'll go talk to him, then," she told Tyler, packing up her project.

"Good luck with that," Tyler snorted, though he did pass Enid some of the skeins of yarn as she delicately placed them in her bag.

She paused as she made to leave the booth. "One last thing," Enid added, "is it okay if I pop in from time to time so I could work on this?" Enid shook her bag. "I can't exactly work on it in our room."

"Of course, as long as you get a drink you're free to stay," he answered with a grin. "And my lips are sealed."

"You're the best," Enid gushed, picking up her drink and taking another sip. "I'll see you next time!"

He waved her off, moving back to his position behind the till.

However, upon returning to Ophelia Hall, she wasn't able to find Thing anywhere. Wednesday wasn't home either, so Enid was able to poke around to try and find the hand. She checked under their beds, around Wednesday's desk (very carefully, in case she set any traps and as to not disturb its contents), and even in her own stuff.

No Thing.

Enid collapsed in her bed, letting the events of the past few days wash over her. She hadn't been truly, physically alone in a long time.

It was... quiet. Enid and her thoughts and her ideas that never work.

The plan was simple—crochet a black snood for Wednesday. The idea was sparked by Dr. Kinbott's request to find a crochet project and her recent discovery of Wednesday's birthday, but Enid found the whole thing lacking substance. Who was to say Wednesday won't just throw out her hard work when she finds out Enid made it?

No, there had to be more Enid could do. Something that was worth more than what Wednesday would consider a 'useless trinket'.

She really needed to find Thing. Enid could ask for advice about what to do for Wednesday... and maybe more if he was willing to share. It would prove to be difficult to get him to open up if Wednesday had warned him about her, though.

And yeah, she recognized that she'd been devoting a lot of mental space for Wednesday, but what else was Enid to think of? There wasn't anything to look forward to. A summer of lycanthropy camp was the only thing awaiting her back in San Francisco. Nobody really wanted to talk to Enid, and especially not when she was so close to the scene of Eugene's attack.

Without the thoughts of Wednesday, Enid's life was colder and emptier.

(But it wasn't like she was in Enid's life in any meaningful way, anyway.)

Love was irrational, and it burned and scalded Enid the more she clung to it, but what else was she to do?

Her ears perked up at the sound of scuttling. Perhaps, fingers hitting the ground?

Enid sat up, calling out, "Thing? Are you there?"

From the corner of her eye, she spotted him, frozen. His fingers slipped on the smooth floor as he attempted to claw his way back to the secluded area next to Wednesday's chest of items.

"Wait, please, I wanna talk!" Enid cried out. "I don't know what Wednesday has been saying about me, but I really..." she swallowed, trying to make sure her words remained coherent. "It's for Wednesday."

Thing stopped in his tracks, turning to Enid with apparent curiosity.

She scooted over to the edge of her bed. "Would you mind if I come closer? Or if you could..?"

Hesitantly, Thing crawled closer to Enid's bed, climbing up to settle next to her many plushies. He signed a question.

"Her birthday is coming up," Enid answered, already reaching over to her bag and rummaging through it. She gingerly pulled out the work-in-progress snood and laid it out for Thing to examine. "I made this," she offered. "But I think I could do better."

He nestled himself between the strands, examining the stitching, before giving a thumbs up. Then, Do better how?

"I was thinking... does Wednesday like birthday parties?"

Thing wagged his finger no, then stopped, signing something else rapidly, almost fast enough for Enid to lose track of, but she barely managed it.

This gave Enid pause. "You think Wednesday would love, um, I hope I'm getting this right," she enunciated her next words carefully, "'the subterfuge of planning a party behind her back and tricking her into attending it'?"

Thumbs up again.

She wanted to throw a party, because birthdays weren't something Enid had a good experience with, so if she could give someone—Wednesday—a better party than she could ever dream of, Enid would die happy.

Wednesday was not a party person, Enid knew that much. But, if what Thing said was accurate, Wednesday would appreciate the sentiment behind someone getting one over her.

She knew about the caveat, though—much like with giving her the snood, Wednesday must never find out that it was Enid who planned everything.

But she had to try.

Over the following days, Enid toiled in the background, making sure to keep her project and her things away from Wednesday's (admittedly uncaring) eyes. She made cards, slipping them under the doors of Bianca Barclay, Xavier Thorpe, even Yoko and Ajax, with explicit instructions that detailed the plan for Wednesday's birthday party.

Enid even managed to enlist Tyler, who was also desperate to get back in Wednesday's good graces. Together, they managed to find a dark chocolate cake—Enid made sure to get the most bittersweet one—and sneak it into a cooler in the rendezvous point, Crackstone Crypt, the day before Wednesday's birthday.

Throughout all of this, Enid kept making stitch after stitch, making black and gray stripes in the fabric. She wanted it to be perfect. She wanted Wednesday to like it.

And she wanted Wednesday to accept it.

Hence, as much as it pained her, she placed it in a non-descript box, with not so much as a touch of glitter and color on it, and she handed it to Thing, who promised to deliver it without any way to trace it back to Enid.

There wasn't much to do except wait. Wednesday came home, barely a glance at Enid, and she started setting up candles on the floor. Probably a part of her investigations, summoning spirits or whatever it was she was doing.

As Wednesday sat in the center, Enid grabbed a random book from below her bed, trying to distract herself from what was to come. She paid no attention to the cover, nor to the contents of the random page she opened, and she waited.

Eventually, Wednesday gave a frustrated huff as she got out of her meditative state and put out the candles.

Swish!

They both looked to the direction of the door, where a card slipped under the crack. Wednesday snatched it off the floor, giving it a quick read.

Enid didn't need to see it to know what it said. She came up with the contents, after all.

If you want answers, meet me inside Crackstone Crypt. Midnight.

And when Wednesday fled their room, not even looking back at her, Enid knew she had been successful. She planned a birthday party she wasn't invited to.

She hoped they gave Wednesday the cake, and she hoped Wednesday liked the taste. She hoped Wednesday enjoyed it better now that Enid wasn't in attendance.

They were probably singing her the Happy Birthday song, and they probably asked her about her birthday wish. Maybe that wish involved her investigations.

(Maybe she wished Enid would disappear from her life.)

Enid was much too restless to sleep. She bounced on her bed, paced around the room, thinking about what was happening in the crypt. She opened her laptop to make a blog post, but only managed a couple of paragraphs before the whole thing devolved into nonsensical sentences.

She moodily slammed her laptop shut. The wait was torture. Enid was just about ready to crash the party out of anxiety and curiosity, and, though she pretended otherwise, she felt like she was missing out on a lot.

In the silence of the room, Enid's ringtone rang out, a cute little ditty from one of her favorite pop albums, startling Enid out of her stupor. She scrambled to answer the phone without checking the caller ID. "Hello..?"

"Sinclair," called out the voice, melodic and dripping with professional detachment. Bianca. "Your roommate passed out on us."

"She what!?" Enid shrieked, almost falling off her bed in surprise. "How the hell did that happen? Do you need me to pick her up?"

Then she remembered she was not supposed to be aware of their whereabouts, or of what they were doing. "I– I mean, where are you? Why was she out with you?"

The line was quiet for a long time. Enid suspected it was Bianca trying to figure out how to tell her about a birthday party she was conspicuously absent in. "Crackstone Crypt," she said finally, "But don't bother coming, she already left. Probably making her way back by now."

Enid hung up, already halfway out the door. She was barefoot and in her pajamas, but she had to check on Wednesday.

Barely a few steps away from the room, however, she was face-to-face with a disheveled Wednesday, who did not look impressed whatsoever.

"What are you doing?" she asked flatly, her first words to Enid since that fateful night. "Have I not told you to stay put during my nighttime activities?"

She ignored Wednesday's question. Seeing her being her usual disagreeable self... well, it still hurt, but it gave Enid a sense of relief knowing that she wasn't hurt. "You're... you're okay," she stammered out.

Enid, instinctively, almost reached out to her in a hug. Almost. She kept her hands inside her pajama pockets.

Despite Enid being able to stop herself from making any moves, Wednesday still took a step away from Enid.

Wednesday studied her carefully. "I remember now," she mused, a hint of disdain in her voice, "you weren't listening."

That conversation, after the Poe Cup, Enid also remembered, though possibly for different reasons from Wednesday. "Sorry," Enid whispered.

"Stay out of my business," she replied coolly, brushing past Enid and walking to the direction of their room. Her boots clicked crisply against the floor as she took her steps.

"H-happy birthday..." Enid said quietly in return.

Wednesday, her hand already on the doorknob, froze. She whipped around to face Enid. "How do you know that?" she asked, a dangerous edge to her voice.

Enid's breath caught in her throat. How could she have been so careless, after all that planning? One slip, because she wanted something to say to Wednesday, and it was all over. She opened her mouth, hopelessly trying to find an excuse that wasn't the truth, but, much like every time Wednesday deemed it fit to talk, Enid had no words for her.

Which did Enid no favors in Wednesday's eyes.

And once more, like in every conversation they had, Wednesday's eyes flared up with suspicion, but she chose to say nothing else.

The hollow feeling in Enid's chest only grew as she clambered into bed. The tension in the air was much more palpable compared to the previous nights. Something was going to break today.

Was it going to be Enid?

She wasn't looking forward to waking up the next day. Enid pulled the sheets over her head, wishing she could disappear beneath them and never bother anyone else ever again.

Just be normal Enid. How hard is it to be normal for one person? Why can't you be normal? Keep your mouth shut, put your head down, and stop, even if it's only today. That's the best gift you can give her.

The sleep that claimed Enid was fitful, restless, and manic. She found herself drifting in and out of sleep, burdened by unwelcome thoughts and feelings that throbbed painfully in her chest. When she felt the morning sun on her eyelids, Enid kept them shut. She was in no mood to face anyone, least of all the person directly across from her.

As she fully came to, she heard Wednesday's voice.

"—absolutely certain that you were the one to plan out that infernal gathering in the crypt?" she was saying in a low voice.

Oh no, why was Thing taking the fall? That wasn't the plan.

But Enid kept her eyes shut. Too afraid to make any moves, to see Wednesday in a clearly incensed state, to take the blame for it.

Tap, tap, tap, on Wednesday's desk. She harrumphed in response. "I'll admit it was an impressive act of misdirection, but you are a bad liar. You have an accomplice."

More frantic tapping, matching the staccato of Enid's heartbeat.

"There is no hiding it," Wednesday said, leaving no room for argument. "Is it Xavier? He appeared a little too eager to give me the cake. Not that it would endear him to me, I have not ruled out his involvement in—"

Smack! Enid nearly jolted in surprise as Thing slammed his palm on the table. It took all of her willpower not to flinch and readjust her position.

It was odd, listening to Wednesday talk. To someone like Thing, she was more forthcoming and at ease. Hearing everything only made Enid long for it more than she did already.

"Who else could it be, then? Tyler? Bianca? I doubt Tanaka or Petropolus would have any motive to do this..." Wednesday trailed off as Enid heard some shuffling noises coming from the floor, akin to something heavy being dragged.

Wednesday hummed noncommittally as she read, "'May your sixteenth be as sour and misery-filled as you desire. Your ever-doting mother and father.' Thing, did they put you up to this as well?"

Instead of answering, she heard another box being dragged out. With a chill, Enid realized it must be the snood she made for her. She resisted the urge to crack an eye open, even as a bemused Wednesday asked, "Blank? Who is this from?"

Then, "What is this, exactly?"

A snood. Something close to my heart. Something I own that I made in your image. A piece of myself that I offer to you. Even if you don't know it's from me, I would be honored if you carried it with you.

But Thing answered for her, and Wednesday did not seem impressed. To Wednesday, it's just a piece of fabric.

"Once again, your fingers are not subtle enough to fool me," Wednesday deadpanned. "If I were to infer from your behavior—" Quick, desperate taps on the desk. "—I believe whoever sent this was also the one to make the plans in Crackstone Crypt."

Despite Thing's silent protests, Wednesday continued, "I will get to the bottom of this." Her voice turned threatening. "And whoever your ally is, their days are limited for conspiring against me."

The words sent shivers down Enid's spine. Wednesday really would not be happy to discover the real perpetrator. She suppressed the urge to get up and run, as it would only make things worse.

Enid, on edge, listened to the tell-tale noises of Wednesday's bag, her shoes against the floor, and the door clicking shut. Only then, when she thought she was safe, did she sit up and catch the breath she was holding. She peered around the room in a frenzy, searching for Thing among Wednesday's belongings.

"Thing? Are you there?"

Tap, tap, came from below Wednesday's desk. Thing was closing up the boxes of her birthday gifts—Enid's box, empty, and Wednesday's parents' box, which held an assortment of glass bottles, metal tools, and...

"Are those dead squirrels?" Enid asked, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "Actually, nevermind that. What did Wednesday— No, before that, why did you take the fall for the party?"

Bad liar, Thing pointed out.

"But you didn't have to do that for me," Enid said, kneeling down to get closer to Thing. "If I got you in trouble with Wednesday..."

He made a so-so gesture on the box, then patted the empty box Enid stored the snood in.

Enid, still worried, protested, "It doesn't matter that Wednesday is always moody, I'm trying to make her feel better." She frowned, but continued with a tilt in her head. "Did she like it? I mean, it doesn't sound like she did..."

She put it in her bag, Thing told her. Didn't throw it away. Good sign.

"I guess..." Despite his reassurances, a multitude of feelings still gurgled uncomfortably within Enid. "She doesn't sound like she's in a good mood. And she passed out. What the heck happened there? Was the party any good? Is she okay?" The barrage of questions came out rapid-fire, betraying Enid's anxiety about the whole event.

Thing's fingers went still on the box he was on, as if he was contemplating on what to reveal about the night before. Vision. Related to investigations, during party.

"Visions?" Enid's head swam. Months of knowing her, and Enid didn't even realize that Wednesday was a Psychic. Some roommate she was.

She could blame Wednesday's obsession with secrecy, but even that excuse rang hollow in her ears. Could she even say she was in love with Wednesday if she couldn't even tell why she was an Outcast?

Did she really know Wednesday? Did she fall in love with the idea of Wednesday?

...but what else did Enid have?

She knew, in her heart of hearts, that pursuing this infatuation with Wednesday was only ever going to end in tragedy. Much like a moth to a flame, she gravitated towards this possible future, where everything would be resolved, where Enid would fix what's wrong with herself and become someone worth being friends with. Someone worth loving.

Enid would burn, as long as she got closer and closer to that opportunity. It was her ticket out of a miserable life.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

But for now, Enid would leave Wednesday alone. She planned the party, she gave the snood, so there was nothing left for Enid to do without practically shoving herself in front of Wednesday.

The classes filled Enid's brain like white noise. She already had a hard time focusing for the past few days, but today was a whole other level. It was like somebody stuffed cotton into Enid's head, and all she could see and hear was fluff.

Stay away from Wednesday.

Her only directive for the day, but the last word kept echoing in her mind in a maddening mantra. Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday.

It didn't help that everywhere Enid went, she always seemed to be close by. Between classes, she spotted Wednesday in the lawn—which recently caught fire, so students were giving it a wide berth—and she was talking to Xavier. She couldn't help but catch some of their hushed exchanges.

"Last night, in the crypt, you had a vision, didn't you?"

"Didn't realize we were back on speaking terms."

Enid dived behind a column. She shouldn't eavesdrop. She should walk away, into her next class, but the feelings of guilt and shame crackled within her. Even Xavier knew about the visions before Enid did.

In her haste to hide herself, she missed some parts of their conversation.

"You still think I’m the monster."

“Haven’t ruled it out."

Wait. Wednesday thought Xavier was the monster..? The monster that she was chasing, the monster that almost killed Enid, the monster that mauled Eugene?

The idea was preposterous. Xavier might be on the anti-social side, but he wasn't a killer, was he?

"No, let me prove to you that I'm not. I need to show you something."

"If you so much as attempt to lay a finger on me—"

"Seriously, Wednesday, lighten up. It's something I saw in my dreams recently... if you saw what I thought you saw in your vision, then you should come with me."

Wednesday's glare was nearly audible, the coldness permeating even when Enid couldn't see it directly. Still, with grass crunching under their shoes, they were gone. Possibly to Xavier's workshop-shed.

This wasn't any of Enid's business. She should walk away.

So, reluctantly, she did. But it didn't stop her from thinking about the interaction, and about the implications of it all. Wednesday thought Xavier was the monster, and he was all too eager to prove he wasn't. Xavier, probably inheriting some of his father's traits, had prophetic dreams, and knew about Wednesday's visions.

And they were alone together now.

Enid really didn't want to think about that particular fact. She faced herself forward, trying to cram down the Outcast History topic into her ears, but to little avail.

She squirmed in her seat and her fingers tapped restlessly on her desk. Her claws almost came out in her anxiety.

Wednesday could be alone with a potential monster. Wednesday could take care of herself. Wednesday could be hurt.

Wednesday could be dead.

Stay away from Wednesday.

Yoko, next to her, was giving her a concerned look. "You okay, girl?"

Enid managed a nod. "Headache," she said. A partial lie.

"Maybe you should go to the nurse, then?" She put a cold hand on Enid's forehead, recoiling almost immediately. "Yeesh, girl, you're burning up."

She felt like she was on fire, yeah.

"After class," Enid muttered, head still full of worries. She needed a distraction. Maybe the walk to the infirmary is enough to clear her head.

The moment her teacher wrapped up the class, Enid was out the door. She went through Nevermore's winding hallways, quietly shuffling past the other students. Enid kept her head down, as to not see their faces.

It didn't clear her head. She stood outside the nurse's office, wondering if she should keep up the headache excuse.

And then she remembered Eugene. The yellow yarn skein sitting unused in her backpack. Dr. Kinbott's advice to focus on her hobbies to clear her mind.

(And Wednesday.)

The nurse greeted her kindly. Enid asked to see him, to visit him, and she led her to his lifeless form, hooked up to a life-support machine.

She hadn't seen Eugene since that night, and she wished she didn't see him now, like this. It was surreal, remembering how full of life and earnest excitement he was when he asked her to the Rave'N, and trying to apply that to the very same boy she was staring at.

Wednesday thought it was Enid's fault that he was like this. In some way, it was. If she said no the first time round, if she pleaded harder with him to go with her to the Rave'N, maybe he wouldn't have been attacked.

For a long time, Enid couldn't do anything but stare. He shouldn't have been attacked. Maybe Enid should be the one in the bed. She evaded it twice now, and that felt like twice too many. She didn't deserve to be that lucky.

The constant beeping provided a clinical, rhythmic background to the whole scene. Enid shivered. The environment was devoid of warmth.

She shouldn't be here. Enid didn't deserve to be here.

Making Eugene a small, crochet trinket wasn't going to fix him. Did Eugene think it was Enid's fault too? Maybe he should.

Enid stood up, ready to leave, when the door behind her swung open. She clutched her bag close, turning on her heel to find Wednesday Addams.

Stay away from Wednesday.

But she froze. She shouldn't be here, yet she couldn't move. Her body was stiff with guilt and shame, like she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't be doing.

Wednesday's demeanor, already closed off and displeased, took a dip into 'infuriated'. "Can you not simply leave us alone? Haven't you done enough?" she said, irritated.

"S-sorry," Enid choked out, hugging her bag closer. She stepped away from Eugene, towards Wednesday, towards the door. "I just wanted to– to check– I mean, I'll go, I'm sorry."

She lost herself every time she found herself under Wednesday's withering glare. All the courage she'd build up, all the words on her tongue, all the thoughts in her head, they would dissipate like dust in the wind whenever Enid saw Wednesday.

Part of herself shattered like glass when Wednesday's expression twisted into angrier features, even if she said nothing else. Enid wasn't welcome here.

The door creaked open a second time, before Enid could make her exit. Dr. Kinbott made her way in, pausing as she took in the sight of the two girls.

"Oh! Wednesday, Enid, I wasn't expecting to see both of you here," she said with a warm smile on her face. "Have you two made up?"

Enid avoided looking at Wednesday, keeping her mouth shut. No, they haven't made up, and won't make up anytime soon, despite Enid's best efforts. Wednesday, on her part, didn't say anything either, directing her glare back to Kinbott.

Dr. Kinbott, sensing the tension, clicked her tongue, easy smile remaining on her face as she tried to mediate. She appeared unfazed by Wednesday's stare, asking her, "How are things with your family? I believe I haven't seen you since your session with them."

Wednesday scoffed in annoyance. "My mother and I spent some quality time together. May I go now?" she asked impatiently.

She only just arrived, but the mere sight of Enid was enough to drive her off. The hollow feeling within Enid grew and grew. Wednesday even sounded distinctly uncomfortable talking about the topic while Enid was present.

Dr. Kinbott nodded, not sensing Enid's discomfort as she regarded her with curiosity. "How's the homework I left you? Has it been helping?"

Enid risked a glance to Wednesday, whose expression morphed into more of an inquisitive look. "It's been going fine," she said slowly. "Halfway through a project right now."

"Oh!" Dr. Kinbott interjected with excitement. "I'd love to see it, if you don't mind?"

But Enid did mind. The only project in her bag at the moment was her pink snood. If Wednesday connected the dots, it would be disastrous for Enid, but she had no valid excuse not to show Dr. Kinbott.

She cursed herself for being such a terrible liar.

Slowly, hesitantly, Enid unzipped her bag and pulled out the half-finished snood, handing it to an awestruck Kinbott. She watched Wednesday's expression carefully.

Her eyes widened by a fraction, and Enid's heart skipped a beat as she spotted the recognition in Wednesday's face, quickly replaced by a stormy visage. Enid's cover was blown.

Dr. Kinbott was none the wiser, handing the snood back to her, unaware that she practically signed Enid's death sentence. "It looks amazing, Enid, I hope you keep it going!"

"Th-thank you," Enid stammered in response. She couldn't focus on Dr. Kinbott's follow-up response—all she could think of was how completely screwed she was.

Wednesday had no qualms interrupting her. "I still have places to be," she grumbled, annoyed at the small talk. "And I'm sure Enid has to go as well."

Enid heard the veiled threat loud and clear. We need to talk.

"By all means, go ahead," Dr. Kinbott responded, gesturing to the door as she took her seat next to Eugene. The two of them shuffled out of his room quietly.

As soon as they made it out of the infirmary, Wednesday whirled on Enid. "You are Thing's accomplice," she accused, backing her into the wall. Enid almost whimpered at the intensity of Wednesday's tone. "You planned the gathering in the crypt, and you left... whatever it was, that project of yours. What are you playing at, Enid?"

"I'm not playing..." she said meekly. Enid, pinned against the wall, hoped desperately for a way out without angering Wednesday further. "Please... I'll stay out of your way. I'm sorry..."

"You keep saying that," Wednesday snarled. "Yet why do you have such an interest with those I associate with? You keep showing up where I am. Are you planning something?"

"No! No, not at all, Wednesday," she pleaded. "I just thought that– that maybe I should– that you deserved a good birthday..?"

God, can't she string together one coherent sentence? This was pathetic.

"That does not answer my question. My birthday has nothing to do with your interest in Eugene, and how you managed to turn Thing against me—"

"I didn't turn Thing against you!" Enid cried out, her breath shaky. "I asked him to help plan a party for you and– and he helped me. That's all, I swear!"

"Fine." Wednesday crossed her arms, clearly still distrustful of Enid, clearly not believing a word she said. "But I know there's a grimy little monster hiding in that colorful persona of yours. I intend to uncover what you've been hiding for a long time."

With those crisp, biting words, Wednesday left Enid in the hallway.

The world spiraled around Enid, her heartbeat growing in a feverish crescendo. Her knees shook, her hands trembled, and her eyes stung. She couldn't do this.

Wednesday was still actively against Enid. And now? She was going to discover Enid's irrational obsession with her. If Wednesday was distant now, she would be demanding to move out by the time she figured everything out about Enid.

Enid couldn't lose her. She could not bear the distance as it was now, and she could never imagine the pain of losing that avenue forever.

She headed back into the nurse's office, tapping impatiently on the counter. "I'm sorry to be a bother, but I'm really not feeling the best," Enid said, her head spinning. "May I have a checkup? I don't think I'll be able to go back to class."

They fussed over her. Enid didn't have to fake anything—she was feverish, nauseous, constantly on the verge of throwing up. She caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror, where sunken, sallow eyes stared back at her. She looked and felt the same: completely and utterly miserable.

The nurse gave her a pass for the day. Enid was offered a bed in the clinic, but she declined it in favor of cocooning herself in blankets and stuffed toys in their room.

What was she doing with her life?

Enid was such a wreck, and such a waste of space on top of everything. One simple goal she had for the day—stay away from Wednesday—and she'd broken it twice, with nothing to show for it. Wednesday was as furious as ever, and she was mere steps away from discovering her secret, from kicking Enid out of their room.

Of course she wouldn't want to stay close to someone like Enid. She didn't want to be friends. She didn't want to be anything. How many more wake-up calls was she going to need before it got through her thick skull?

Stay away from Wednesday. Keep your mind off of Wednesday. No more heartache, and no more being a bother.

She cried too many tears over her, and she tried too many times to befriend her. This had to stop.

Enid should let go.

The thought made her numb. If Enid burned when she wished she was with Wednesday, now she was stiff, cold, and devoid of emotion.

She lost. She felt like she lost, anyway, even if nothing had changed externally. She was lost, adrift at the sea of life, as she stared up at the ceiling she'd seen for years.

Enid stepped into Nevermore alone. She started the year alone. She was going to leave Nevermore alone.

She was going to die alone.

There wasn't any sense in thinking like this, but thinking was often different from feeling. Enid belatedly contemplated if she should have told Dr. Kinbott about any of this. Maybe she would've dismissed it anyway. It wasn't worth talking about.

No sense in staying stagnant either. Enid sat up slowly, blinking away the haze from her eyes, tugging off the blanket she placed around herself.

Crochet was a lot of things to Enid. As she neglected to mention to Dr. Kinbott, it was a hobby she chose for herself. For a long time, it was also her excuse to seek out and talk to people. If she did it in the crochet circle, it felt less like begging for attention and more like fitting in, even if Enid didn't feel that she belonged at all.

More importantly, crochet was a shut-your-brain-off activity. If the world ever grew too noisy, too much, and she was tired of being the public's lively Enid Sinclair all the time, she would pop on a pair of headphones and start counting stitches.

Enid was never the type to break things in her frustration. Really, she barely reacted to all the shitty things coming her way, because she couldn't afford to complain. If she did, all she'd ever do was whine and be destructive, lash out at everyone and be unpleasant to be around in, because that's most of her life: disappointments and missed opportunities.

She couldn't waste all that time complaining.

So she found something she could call her own. She held on to it, almost incorporating it as part of her personality. Quirky girls had hobbies like crocheting, Enid was definitely a cutesy, lovely girl like that. She wasn't lonely, she was popular and approachable!

Any time she felt like she would crash and burn, she stepped into the crochet circle and pretend it was happening to someone else. And she didn't have to think when she's arranging yarn skeins and weaving in ends. She didn't have anyone nagging at her if she made a mistake. People liked her work. People liked Enid.

Enid could take the messy, painful parts of her life and channel it into something more beautiful.

(At least, that's what she kept telling herself. Because what good was Enid if she couldn't even have this?)

So back to her project, Enid went. She cranked up the volume of her music, picked up her crochet hook, and forgot all about her problems for just one afternoon.

She barely noticed the sun set. She didn't even look up when Wednesday came back into the room. And she kept going until Wednesday was settled into her bed.

It was better than stopping, than seeing her angry looks and to get into another confrontation, than seeing Wednesday and feeling her heart stop and her chest heave.

Enid needed this, to finally let go. No more hurt.

When she woke up in the morning, Enid was determined to see it through to the end. She wanted to go back to playing her roles. She knew, ever since Parents' Weekend, that she'd been 'off'. The rumor mill had surely already come up with a million reasons for her—with none of them hopefully close to the actual truth—but Enid wanted to reclaim her life.

Classes were fun and interesting again, or at least, Enid started paying attention to them again. Her energy was so different from the days before that Yoko gave her a weird look when Enid took the seat beside her.

"I thought you were sick," she pointed out.

"Never felt better!" Enid responded with a grin. "I guess I needed the bedrest."

Patently untrue. Enid spent the entire night doing anything but rest, crocheting and listening to loud music. Despite having slept at two in the morning, Enid felt the pep in her step as soon as she got off her bed that morning.

This was real. She was really starting to feel better.

As long as Enid kept running from her feelings, they couldn't catch up with her.

She finally got the courage to attend her crochet circle again. Enid presented her snood to the group, who congratulated her on the project.

"Thank you!" she beamed, "I still need to make the tassels, though."

"By all means, gurl, keep at it!" Her crochet circle leader was still running her fingers down Enid's project, gushing over her color choices and her stitching. "It's so nice to have you back, Enid."

Enid's smile was real. It was real. "I'm happy to be back."

And she was.

She really, really was.

Stop thinking about her.

Normally, she'd be exhausted after flitting from class to class, after all the extra-curriculars she piled onto herself, but she walked into the theater with some energy left to spare. There weren't any big productions left for the year, but they insisted on doing at least a few exercises to 'keep the theater kid in you alive!'

"Woah, Enid, we didn't expect you to be here," their floor director appraised her. "Are you, like, fit to perform, or—"

"I'd love to, don't worry." She flashed a grin, dropping her bags and picking up a script from the pile. Enid flicked through the pages of the simple skit. "Have the roles been assigned yet?"

One of the cast members shook a box filled with slips of paper. "We're drawing lots."

Switching roles as easily as she picked names from a hat. That was Enid, wasn't it? Maybe that was why performing in drama club was easy for her.

Today, she picked the role of being happy.

As with most days, if she performed well enough, she might actually convince herself that it was real.

Because it was real.

Enid was going to carry this role for the day, and she would keep doing it in the next, and in the next, just like she'd been doing her whole life. She did it before she met Wednesday, and she could keep doing it long after she let go of her.

If When she let go of her.

She got home, back to Ophelia Hall. Enid expected to be tired, once more, but she shook with such manic energy. She could do anything. This was how it felt like to be in control again.

(It's not nerves. It's not uncertainty. It's not, it can't be.)

Alone again. But that was fine. There's no Wednesday, and Enid couldn't be happier.

(She ignored the dull, throbbing sounds of her heartbeat, slow and wanting. She ignored the slivers of pain poking at her heartstrings. She ignored the silence, the emptiness, of being back to where she started.)

Enid wasn't about to slow down. She wasn't going to drop her smile, or everything would catch up to her. And she needed to prove to herself that she wasn't miserable without Wednesday.

Stop thinking about her.

Back to work it was. She was able to wrap up her snood, all covered in pink fluffy tassels now. She could bring it to Dr. Kinbott in the next session, but she wanted another project now.

She dug through her bag, finding the skein of yellow yarn she bought so long ago. The yellow mingled with the leftover black yarn she had from making that other project... A bee. A stuffed, crochet bee sounded nice.

Enid could leave it on Eugene's bedside, and he could keep it when he woke up.

(It still wasn't going to fix anything.)

On her laptop, she browsed various patterns and settled on one that looked pretty simple. There was no Wednesday, so she could play her music aloud.

(But she didn't. Enid snapped her headphones on.)

It was easy to lose track of time. On many days, Enid let the world become a blur. She woke up, she blinked, she was in bed again, with hazy memories of having gone to class and talking to people.

Who was it that had these experiences? Sometimes, it didn't feel like it was Enid.

So it wasn't a surprise when Enid finally looked up from her work to switch playlists, only to realize what time it was. 20:47, said the clock on her phone.

Enid stretched her arms, stiff from being in the same positions for too long. After a satisfying crack!, she was about to return to her work when she felt a tapping sensation on her knee.

She almost shrieked in surprise, thinking it was a spider, before taking a more careful look and realizing it was Thing. "Holy— oh, sorry, Thing, what's up?" She unhooked her headphones as he signed to her, concern in his fingers.

Wednesday. Of course. Why else would Thing talk to Enid?

"I don't know where she is..." Enid said truthfully, but Thing shook a finger in disagreement. Investigated. Gates Mansion.

"Okay..?" She didn't know where the conversation was going. "Maybe she'll be home soon?"

With Xavier and Tyler, Thing protested non-verbally. Want you to check.

Enid's blood ran cold. All thoughts of avoiding Wednesday, of continuing her work and staying in her bed, they all went out the window. "Where's the Gates Mansion?" she hissed at Thing.

That girl was going to get herself killed.

She changed out of her pajamas, finding her darkest, most practical clothes. Enid considered wearing her snood after she felt the chilly wind through the balcony window, but she was sneaking out—no sense in wearing a neon 'Here I am!' sign.

Enid grabbed it anyway. Any sense of comfort she could get from this experience, she'd greedily hold on to.

The full moon shone brightly above her—another reminder of what was wrong with Enid, but this time she was fully prepared to use it. In case any of the staff find her wandering the grounds, Enid would point to it as an excuse. "I'm not feeling too well, I think I might wolf out, so I'm going in the lupine cages," she was ready to say.

Disappointingly, she never got to use it. The hallways, the quad, the grounds, they were bereft of any signs of life.

(Would Wednesday have thought her clever if she did? Would she care?)

Something within Enid told her to rush. The pathway to the old mansion was dark, crawling with overgrown shrubs and vines. It was barely wide enough to fit a car. Enid kept her pace brisk, trying her best to shrug off the coldness in the air, the feeling of being watched, the wrongness in her chest.

Ahead of her, the decrepit Gates Mansion slowly came into view. Enid rushed over, finding the ornate, rusty gates already open. Wednesday was here.

As soon as Enid touched the metal, a guttural scream rang out from within the mansion. All senses of self-preservation left Enid as she hurriedly slammed the gate open. She almost called out to the yell, but she held her tongue—Enid might call attention to whatever caused the scream.

Instead, she nimbly made her way to the grand doors, pushing them open as they creaked and groaned, announcing Enid's presence.

A grisly sight greeted her—Tyler, gashes across the stomach, sprawled on the floor, unconscious. Wednesday was kneeling over him, and across her, Xavier, clutching his bleeding shoulder. Upon the sound of the door opening, the two of them tensed, looking up at Enid with their guards up.

"W-what the hell happened here?" Enid cried out. With some trepidation, she unwound her snood and attempted to press it against Tyler's wounds, but Wednesday blocked her with a glare.

"You did not spot the monster?" she asked, her voice boiling with suspicion.

Enid shook her head, her hands trembling as she kept hold of her snood. "There was... I heard a scream... I went in and I saw you guys and—"

All Wednesday did was glare. Enid cut herself off. This was just like when Eugene was attacked. When she was investigating in Cobham Woods. When she fell unconscious during the Harvest Festival.

Wednesday thought Enid was following her. Stalking her, even.

Thing was worried, she wanted to say. Asked me to check on you.

But she recalled the way Thing took the blame for the birthday party. Wednesday already thought that Enid had been turning him against her. She couldn't keep pushing Wednesday's fury towards him.

"I overheard your conversation," Enid said instead. "Yours and Xavier's, yesterday." She fiddled with her snood nervously, wishing it could lend her more strength. "That's how I knew you'd go here."

From below her, a pained groan sounded out. Tyler blinked his eyes open, seeing Wednesday, Xavier, and Enid around him.

Xavier steadied him, momentarily taking his hand away from his shoulder. "We talked about it in the studio," he said moodily as he shifted Tyler to a sitting position. "I don't recall you being anywhere near."

Enid couldn't look away from Wednesday. She was sure that her excuses were being torn apart in Wednesday's head, but she wasn't going to throw Thing below the bus. She stood her ground.

"I passed by to grab some flowers," Enid insisted weakly. "Needed some for reference."

Lie.

"Seriously, it's not important how I got here." She addressed Tyler, who was looking pale from his injuries. "Can you stand up? Should we take you to the hospital..?"

"Car," he grunted out, face twisting in pain. "Home."

Wednesday's lips were thin, but she nodded. Slowly, carefully, she and Xavier pulled him to his feet. Tyler cried out in pain.

There wasn't anything Enid could do but step aside as they hauled him back to his car. She was redundant. Taking up extra space.

She could drive, but it was Xavier who stepped up to do so. Enid meekly went to the backseat, next to the wounded Tyler. Wednesday was in front of her.

The air was filled with tense silence. Enid, finally, was able to sacrifice her snood and apply pressure to Tyler's wounds. Wednesday, eyes up ahead, was pointedly not talking to anyone. Xavier's knuckles were white against the steering wheel.

As the Galpin residence came into view, Tyler stirred, pressing Enid's snood firmer into his torso. "Are we... here..?"

Wednesday, without looking back, confirmed, "We've arrived. I will need to stitch you up."

"Dad... home?"

Enid answered it for him. "It doesn't look like he is," she said, peering through the window and spotting the empty driveway, the lack of lights.

Tyler groaned. "You'll... all be in trouble."

"And you're injured," Enid protested. "We need to make sure you're okay first." Getting caught was the least of her worries. The gashes on his stomach looked pretty deep.

Outside of the snood stemming the flow of blood, there really, really wasn't anything Enid was contributing. Xavier was able to drive them there, and was now helping Tyler walk into his home. Wednesday was already pulling out a black box from her bag, closely behind the two boys.

As soon as Tyler was settled on the couch, Wednesday popped the box open, revealing a suturing kit. Her process was meticulous, methodical, as she sterilized and threaded a needle and she began stitching up Tyler's wounds.

She didn't even flinch when the front door slammed open and Sheriff Galpin walked into the scene. "What the hell, Tyler, I thought I said—"

He trailed off as he took in the scene. Wednesday didn't glance up from her handiwork. Xavier looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, gauze in hand as he tried to wrap his bleeding shoulder.

Enid was terrified. She shouldn't have been here, and she wasn't much help either. Now that Tyler was getting the medical attention he needed, all of Enid's trepidation snapped back into place.

"This was your fault, wasn't it?" Sheriff Galpin glowered, rounding on Wednesday. This accusation caused her to pause in her stitch work, before dropping the needle and facing him.

"Sheriff," she intoned, almost respectful, "I understand you're angry, but believe me when I say I have something you really need to see."

"I'm not going anywhere until you can explain to me why my son is sitting there about to bleed to death!"

Tyler groaned, his gaze on the floor, like he was ashamed. "Dad, I'm fine," he said weakly.

Sheriff Galpin sighed, rubbing his eyelids in exhaustion. "And you two," he glared at Xavier and Enid, "what else did Addams make you do?"

"N-nothing," Enid stammered out immediately, before Wednesday could turn her stare at her. "I came here on my own. Wednesday didn't know I'd be here."

Xavier never replied to the question. He simply huffed and continued bandaging his shoulder.

"Like I said, Sheriff," Wednesday continued coldly, "there is somewhere we have to be right now. The explanation you are after lies there."

He threw up his arms, relenting to Wednesday's demand. "Fine, whatever. The two of you," he pointed at them, "back to your damn school. And Tyler..." His voice hardened, though his brow crinkled with a hint of worry. "We'll talk about this later. Addams, come on."

When they exited the house, Tyler sat up straighter. "When did you... get here?" he asked Enid, effort straining his voice. "Why..?"

"I'd like to know too," Xavier broke in, applying the last of the tape and rolling his shoulder experimentally. "Did you at least get a good look at the monster? Where it went?"

What was Enid supposed to say? She didn't see the monster. She didn't have a good answer for anything. Xavier and Wednesday were already aware that Enid had eavesdropped on at least one conversation...

Oh, no, do they think Enid was there to sabotage their investigations? How could she even clear her name?

Her gaze swept from Xavier, aloof but curious, to Tyler, who looked uncomfortable from the attention. "I... didn't want to tell Wednesday," she confessed, "but Thing asked me to check up on her."

Xavier raised an eyebrow, though he didn't comment further. Tyler, thankfully, appeared satisfied by the answer. "So... no monster..?"

"I'm sorry," Enid apologized, guilt creeping into her tone. She scooted closer to Tyler. "Are you alright?"

"I'll live," Tyler managed.

Xavier cleared his throat. "I hope you're ready to go back," he interrupted. "Weems would probably kill us by the time we got back."

"Right." Enid got to her feet. "Yeah, let's go." She took one last look at Tyler, though he waved her off, turmoil present on his face.

Enid wished she could do more, but, as with most things, she didn't have much to contribute.

Even though she was walking back with Xavier, the walk back to Nevermore was as quiet as her earlier sprint. Enid walked at more-or-less the same speed, but Xavier hung back like a shadow. She felt his eyes on the back of her neck, uncannily like Wednesday tended to do.

They never really interacted all that much—their personalities clashed and there wasn't any opportunity to. For the years Enid had been in Nevermore, she still hadn't shared a class with him. They were in different clubs, different cliques, not to mention his association with Bianca Barclay.

And now Wednesday. Xavier couldn't be any further from Enid's already cramped circle.

Still, maybe Enid could use this opportunity to get more answers.

(Stop thinking about her, was but a weak thought at this point.)

"How's Wednesday?" she asked, as casually and as nonchalantly as she could. She slowed her walk so she was side-by-side with Xavier.

Xavier snorted. "You know how stubborn she is," he grumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Actually, I don't," Enid lied. "Care to elaborate?"

"You know," Xavier deflected, stopping to stare Enid down, "Wednesday thinks you're related to the investigation. She told me to keep an eye out, in case you did something weird."

Bits and pieces of what Wednesday had been yelling at her started to make sense. I don't trust you, Enid Sinclair, rang out the loudest in her ears.

Her fingers trembling, lips shaking, she said incredulously, "That's– that's crazy!"

"I thought so too," Xavier nodded. "You're... weird." (Twinge of pain.) "But you're not that kind of weird. I thought Wednesday was being paranoid."

He laughed, no note of humor or mirth in his voice. "She accused me of being the monster," he admitted, "though if you were listening in, I suppose you'd know that."

Enid didn't trust herself to say anything.

Xavier kept going. "I came with her today... I thought if I helped her with exploring the mansion, she'd realize I wasn't the monster she was hunting." He took a deep breath, rolling his injured shoulder carefully. "And then we were attacked."

He frowned at Enid, taking a small step back. "And then you showed up."

The monster is human.

Wednesday says I should stay away from you.

How could you do this to him?

I know there's a grimy little monster hiding in that colorful persona of yours.

That's... no, it couldn't be, could it?

Wednesday thought Enid was the monster. A cruel, murderous monster, someone who didn't discriminate from its kills, who would attack friend or foe, who could never, ever be trusted.

Judging by the way Xavier was poised to run, he was starting to believe Wednesday's theory as well.

"That's..." Enid couldn't even put to words her disbelief. But it made sense. Too much sense. "I'm not– I'm not the monster, Xavier!"

Her claws popped out—the worst timing—and Xavier flinched. "You're not helping your case, Enid," he said, his breath raspy, scratchy.

"I wouldn't... Xavier, you know I'm a Werewolf!" she cried out desperately, though Enid knew, just from the look on Xavier's face, that they were both thinking the same thing. Was she really, if she couldn't wolf out after all these years?

No wonder Wednesday reacted the way she did when she learned Enid couldn't transform. The disgust on her face was apparent when she considered the implications.

"I don't think you're the monster," he said after a long pause, "but you have to admit that it's pretty suspicious."

A few hours ago, Enid could convince herself that everything was fine. Now, under the light of the full moon, everything was so, so dark.

She couldn't handle seeing Xavier regarding her with such skepticism. It would kill her to see Wednesday, to understand, finally, why she looked at Enid with such loathing.

"I think you should go ahead." Enid was staring at the moon, wishing it were kinder, hoping for a miracle transformation. But Enid remained herself, stuck in an ill-fitting body and a life she never wanted.

"Enid—"

"Go. Please," she pleaded with him, finally making eye contact. Enid couldn't imagine what her eyes must have conveyed, but Xavier's expression softened. "I'll get back on my own," she muttered.

He nodded, curt and to the point. "Stay safe." With these parting words, Xavier turned on his heel and walked back to Nevermore. Enid watched him go, waited until his footsteps were lost to the silence of the night, until she was alone in the trees again.

Xavier never looked back.

Enid never expected him to. She was a stranger to him—to many people, really. Xavier had no incentive to stay, to defend her from Wednesday, to believe anything about her.

It was up to Enid to prove she wasn't the monster. The problem was that Enid wasn't entirely sure she could.

She wasn't the monster, was she? She wasn't. Enid would remember... but Enid also forgot a lot of things. Days slipped by.

Harvest Festival. She got cotton candy. She did her hair. She was alone. Blank. She carried Wednesday Addams back to their dorm room.

The darkness of the forest grew around Enid, swallowing her like the doubts currently festering in her mind. She started walking, away from everything. If only she could outrun herself. She's not the monster. She isn't. Enid knew this.

But did she really?

Outreach Day. She swapped assignments with Wednesday. Talked to Tyler, saw Wednesday again. She felt overwhelmed and ran to the forest. Cried. Blank. She met Wednesday in the woods, and she went back to her shift.

She passed by the trees, suddenly so unfamiliar, and she stumbled on rocks. Her footing was as stable as her mental state. One wrong move, one misstep, and she would go tumbling down.

Rave'N. She had a nice dress on, and she talked to people. She saw Wednesday, and she watched as she danced. She felt overwhelmed and ran out. It rained paint, Wednesday panicked, and Enid ran after her. Blank. She stood over Eugene's lifeless body, and Wednesday was glaring at her.

Enid reached the gates of Nevermore, at last. At this point, whether or not she got caught, she'd take what she could get. Maybe she deserved to be caught.

Because she didn't want to hurt anyone. Enid could take being called a monster—it was practically her early experiences in Nevermore, to be the runt amongst the litter, the freak that couldn't wolf out. It hurt (because it was true), but it was something she was used to.

But to actually be the cause for many deaths and injuries? Of course Wednesday would be disgusted by her. Enid would be disgusted by herself.

She hurt Eugene. And, from what little she knew, she killed people.

Enid was a monster.

Empty hallways. She kept her steps light, her breath steady. Nobody stopped her. Nobody accosted her. Just Enid, alone in the middle of the night, who was probably a monster, the monster, sneaking back into her dorm room, back to her roommate who justifiably hated her.

Empty room. Enid didn't know what to feel about Wednesday not being home yet. Relief, perhaps, that she didn't have to face her yet. Guilt, for the things she might have been doing, for forcing herself on Wednesday despite everything. Longing, because she could never, ever let go of her, and whatever illusions Enid may have had about doing so evaporated as soon as she set off for Gates Mansion.

But Enid never belonged here.

She was transfixed in the doorway, taking in the room before her. Wednesday's side of the room was put-together, organized. Everything had its place. Her desk was cleared of anything superfluous, and her bed was neatly made. She kept everything spotless and impersonal, monochrome and professional, much like herself.

In stark contrast, Enid's side was comparatively a mess. The posters, the plushies, her desk with all the decorations and projects and prints scattered about—cutesy and colorful, exactly how Enid wished her life was. The sweetness to balance out the bitter taste in her mouth.

For a long time, this room was Enid's alone, hers to live in and hers to decorate. For the first time in her Nevermore stay, Enid felt like she didn't belong in her own room. People like her didn't belong anywhere.

What was she to think? Enid thought she wasn't the monster, but how could she ever be sure of that? Wednesday believed it, and she probably had evidence to back it up.

She wasn't sure she could ever stand up to it if Wednesday ever confronted her about it.

Enid felt compelled to walk to her closet, to grab her bag and start packing. She didn't deserve to sleep here. Wednesday probably slept with one eye open... oh, God, is that why she sometimes left their room at midnight? Was she that wary of Enid?

Bothering Wednesday with her attempts at befriending her was already bad enough, but to drive her to sleeplessness, to make her feel unsafe in the one place where she is supposed to feel safe?

Enid truly was despicable.

Clothes went in, with no rhyme or reason. She could sleep in her uniform. Whatever. Enid dragged her bag to her bed, collecting small, comforting items—her journal, a stuffed wolf, her favorite hair clips. She motioned to take her snood off, before she remembered that she gave it up to stem the bleeding from Tyler's wounds. Poor thing was probably wadded up and tossed in the trash by now.

Weeks of work, but whatever. Enid didn't deserve it anyway.

She left her laptop behind. No sense in updating her blog. Nobody would be willing to read her inane rambling.

As she zipped her bag, the door behind her creaked open. Enid froze, knowing what was to come.

Enid turned, as deliberately and carefully as she could, to face Wednesday. Her expression was back to being stoic, unreadable, cool, but she could tell the anger that simmered beneath the surface. The way her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly once she noticed Enid was still up, and how they zeroed in on the bag in her hands.

"Where are you going?" she asked. An odd tone, like she was genuinely taken aback.

Nowhere. Away. "Yoko's room," Enid responded steadily, because that's the only place she could ever crash in. But it was only ever going to be temporary—she couldn't do the same thing to her as she did with Wednesday.

Wednesday momentarily appeared unsteady, a foreign look on her face, but she masked it just as quickly with a collected facade. Enid must have imagined it. "I worked everything out with Weems," she explained, calmer than Enid could have ever expected. "You and Xavier will not be punished."

"That's nice," Enid said absent-mindedly. She couldn't fathom why Wednesday wasn't blowing up at her. It was going to happen eventually.

She kept packing.

"You do not have to leave." Wednesday's face remained impassive.

You want me to, though.

Enid zipped up the bag, slinging it on her shoulder. "I think it's better if I do leave," she whispered. "You probably don't want to share a room with a monster."

She dropped the facade, her expression sinking back to the familiar disdain Enid had come to expect. "Is this an admission of guilt, then?" Wednesday asked, her tone slipping into the icy depths of her rage. "Are you the monster, Enid Sinclair?"

No, she wanted to say, but she couldn't. She wasn't sure. "Xavier told me about your suspicions," Enid said instead, twisting the straps on her bag, avoiding Wednesday's gaze. "You really believe it, then?"

"He need not have," Wednesday professed. "I would have told you tonight, once I was sure it wasn't him."

Which left Enid as the only suspect. The best possible choice too, considering the evidence was stacked against her.

There was never a way out in this conversation, but if everything was going to fall apart anyway, Enid might as well throw caution into the wind. She might as well try.

"I don't think I'm the monster." Her voice had a wobble to it. Enid could feel the fragility—one wrong move and she'd fall apart, but she needed to be strong. "I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't want to kill. I just... I'm tired, Wednesday."

Wednesday stepped closer to Enid. Her eyes were intense, sharp, piercing, as she scrutinized Enid. They bore into Enid's soul, laying bare all the secrets she had.

In the silence, Enid felt compelled to continue. "I'm leaving because that's... that's what I told you. I wanted to stay out of your way. And that's what you asked from me. That I stay out of your business."

Stay away from Wednesday.

She should have done this from the start. She flew too close, too far, and this was Enid burning up.

"What I would truly ask for," Wednesday countered with a sneer, "is the truth. None of these dramatics are needed. In no uncertain terms, are you the monster?"

The truth. It was so absurd that Enid had to laugh, harsh, mocking, and lacking any real amusement. "I don't know!" she yelled, hysterical. "I don't know, because I don't trust myself, and you're so sure that it's me. Why are you even asking if you're never going to believe what I say?"

True to her fears, some tears started slipping out. She was cracking under the pressure. "I wanted to be your friend," Enid sniffled. "That's all I ever wanted from you. But I understood why you wouldn't want to—we were just too different! And you would never choose to be friends with someone who was as much a freak as I am."

If any of her words were getting to Wednesday, her expression didn't show it. "I never asked to be your friend," she said flatly.

"Of course not! You never ask me anything, Wednesday." Enid took a moment to swipe at her eyes, cursing herself once more for being so emotional, so weak, so pathetic. Her mother was right—Enid was such a doormat. "You want the truth? The truth is that I'm nothing compared to you. I never had proper friends in Nevermore. I'm wasting my time here. I'm not even a proper Outcast, because I can't wolf out. You think I'm special enough to be a monster on top of all that?"

Getting the words out felt like coughing out shards of glass. All that vulnerability, and for what? Wednesday was never going to change her mind.

"I think," she muttered, barely a few inches from Enid, staring deep into her, "you are still capable of lying." Wednesday stepped back, appraising Enid silently from head to toe. "I think it is still entirely too convenient that you kept showing up where the monster was. And I know you are still hiding something."

Enid choked out another laugh. "I'm not hiding anything– no, actually, you're right. I didn't tell you anything because– because I knew you'd look down on me... more than you already do." She took a deep breath. Everything was tumbling down anyway. What's a few more humiliating moments?

Wednesday remained silent.

"On Outreach Day," Enid began with a quiver in her voice, already regretting everything, "I did see the monster. I think I did. I thought I was going to die. But what I really didn't want to tell you was that I went there because I was so overwhelmed, and– and I needed to be alone. I wanted to cry and yell at the world, and then you were there." A few more tears streamed out. "And it hurt to see you. It hurt to be weak in front of you."

Like she was being now.

"I ran after you in the Rave'N because I was worried about you. I followed you today because I was worried about you. I keep trying to be friends because I–"

Because I love you. Because I want what you stand for. Because I've made you important to myself.

"It doesn't matter," Enid said, shaking her head. "It's better if I'm not here. I don't think I'm the monster—" Lie, lie, lie. "—but I know that you think I am. I know that if I was the monster, you wouldn't want me to be anywhere near you."

She made no moves to stem her tears. Enid kept her head up, but her eyes averted. "So, here. I'm leaving you alone."

And still, after everything, Wednesday said nothing. Enid couldn't bring herself up to look at her. She said her piece. It was time to go.

"Goodbye, Wednesday. I'm sorry for everything."

She ran. Out the room, through the halls, down the stairs. If only Enid could keep running, never to see Wednesday or anyone else again, but she had to stop somewhere, and that somewhere was Yoko's room.

Unsurprisingly, Yoko answered on the first knock. Vampires tended to be nocturnal. She flinched upon seeing Enid. "Oh, God, what happened to you?" she gasped, stepping aside to let Enid in. "You look like shit. No offense."

Enid could feel the dried tear tracks on her cheeks, the rawness of her eyes. In all senses of the word, she was terrible. She opened her mouth to offer up an explanation, an apology, anything, but the reality of her night, of her life, hit her full force.

"I... I messed up," she sobbed, scrunching her face to stop more tears from coming out. "I don't know what to do, Yoko." Enid buried her face in her hands, wailing in pure misery.

Yoko, to Enid's surprise, pulled her into a hug. She sank into it with such deep fervor and need, feeling ashamed that such a simple gesture made her fall apart even more.

She tried not to read into it. It was the only thing to do when you're met with a crying girl. If anything, Enid was getting Yoko's shirt all weird and wet from all the crying.

It was shameful. Enid pulled away, comfort disappearing as quickly as it set in.

"Seriously, what happened? Maybe, if we can talk about it, and maybe I can help—"

No, no. Absolutely not. Enid was enough of a burden as it was. She mustered up the strongest smile she could, which must have looked weird paired with her definitely-still-crying eyes. "N-no, it's okay," Enid sighed. "It's me, I messed up. I just need some space and some time to process and..."

She didn't really want to be alone. That hug felt nice. Enid craved more of it. It just wasn't something Enid deserved to have, not something a monster deserved.

Enid was the monster. Enid was not the monster.

She couldn't tell anymore. She was so tired.

"Was it Addams?"

Enid huffed, turning away from Yoko. "It's not." Lie. "I don't want to talk about it." Lie, again.

To her credit, Yoko didn't push, instead setting up the spare mattress. Enid dropped her bag, collapsing next to it.

This was always going to be temporary. Enid couldn't be sure that she wasn't the monster, and she couldn't in good conscience stay in the same room as Yoko if she was. She'd have to find a different place to sleep and stay in sooner or later.

She blinked away her tears. She blinked, she closed her eyes, and she fell asleep.

It was weird not waking up to the sun streaking into her half-multicolored window—no, not her window anymore. Enid left so much of her stuff behind... but maybe it was for the best.

Enid didn't feel like attending classes. What was the point? Her life was a mess, and she'd probably be putting everyone in danger simply through proximity. Classes seemed like the furthest thing she'd wanted to do at the moment.

She debated on staying in bed, but this wasn't her room. She shouldn't stay. She shouldn't take up space.

Her morning routine was thrown completely off-base—Enid stumbled around, finding what little proper clothes she managed to pack and taking a cold shower, and she wandered off. She didn't know where she was going.

(She never knew where she was going.)

Enid traced the path to Jericho, counting her steps. Fifty four. Counting was easy, and it was therapeutic in a way. Two hundred ninety five. She did it a lot for crochet, for stitches and rows and keeping her place. Seven hundred ten. It got easier to focus on the numbers than on everything else.

By one thousand three hundred forty two, she was in front of the Jericho offices. Twenty five steps later, she was poised to knock on Dr. Kinbott's office door.

She didn't know why she was here. Enid knocked anyway.

"Come in!" said Dr. Kinbott, muffled through the office door. Enid gripped the cold doorknob and pushed gently.

Dr. Kinbott was, much like in their last session, going through her notes. This time, they were much more neatly organized, rather than splayed across the table in whatever fashion. "Oh, Enid!" she greeted warmly, putting the file down. "I wasn't expecting you until later in the week."

Enid stood in the doorway, unsure if she should come any closer. "Sorry," she started, already one foot stepped back. "If it's not convenient—"

"No, no." Kinbott was shaking her head, gesturing for Enid to come closer. "No appointments today. It's quite alright, you can come in."

The seat in front of Dr. Kinbott was temptingly empty. Four, five, six steps. Enid was sitting. And, once more, she was back to not knowing what to say.

Kinbott looked at her expectantly. There was sincere curiosity in her eyes, possibly even concern, but she didn't tell Enid anything. She waited.

"...is it okay if I stay here for a while?" Enid broached. She was perfectly prepared for the inevitable 'no', but Dr. Kinbott nodded.

Enid really did want to at least share some things from the weeks she had, from after their last session, but every time she gets close, when the words are at the tip of her tongue, her mind goes blank.

She wanted to talk about going home to San Francisco, only to be sent away to conversion camps barely days later. She wanted to talk about how her efforts to befriend Wednesday only kept leading to ruin.

She wanted to talk about being a monster, an outcast among Outcasts, a Fur who wasn't really a Fur. She wanted to talk about the gaps in her memory, about how unstable she felt, like the ground beneath her was ready to open up and swallow her.

And maybe she wanted to talk about how she wanted to let it swallow her, leaving no trace of Enid Sinclair behind.

As it was, she couldn't say any of it.

Not for a lack of trying, but for many reasons—that Enid didn't deserve to be helped, that Enid was being a bother, that it was all a trivial matter and they weren't 'real' problems, that Dr. Kinbott didn't really care—all of which crammed down Enid's throat and stopping the words before they could even be spoken.

Still, Dr. Kinbott was used to Enid's silence by now. She knew better than to push for Enid to share, instead coaxing Enid into making herself more comfortable. "You're free to use the time as you wish, okay? If talking helps, I'd love to listen, but it's not a requirement."

"Thank you," Enid replied quietly. And her throat closed up once more. She tapped her fingers unsteadily against her bag, with all the pent-up, restless energy within her begging to be released. Tremors ran through her legs, and, despite Dr. Kinbott not doing anything to warrant that kind of response from her, Enid felt like running.

Her head spun, she was nauseous, and Enid desperately, desperately wanted to leave. The fact that she chose to come here, that she wanted to spill her guts and have the good doctor listen to her, it was completely at odds with the writhing sensations inside of her.

She needed to calm down. Somehow.

Dr. Kinbott seemed to sense the unease that Enid was struggling with, interrupting her thoughts with a kind smile and asking, "Would you like to show me your project for the week?"

On any other day, she would be quite proud to show off her work. There was something fulfilling about finishing a project and letting her crochet circle 'ooh' and 'ahh' at her stitchwork, and Enid was perfectly willing to give the same performance to Kinbott.

On any other day. But not today.

"I... lost my project..." Enid said, soft, ashamed. 'Lost' was one way to put it. 'Covered in blood, wasted, thrown away' was possibly more accurate. "I made a gift for Wednesday on her birthday," she offered instead, though it didn't bring Enid any more joy.

"Did you?" Dr. Kinbott appeared delighted at the news. Her face lit up in recognition. "Ah, her birthday was when I saw you last, wasn't it? Were you able to give it to her then?"

Yes. Not that she wants it. "I don't know if she ever got it," Enid lied. "It could be anywhere." That wasn't a lie.

She clicked her tongue in disappointment. "That's a shame," Dr. Kinbott said with a sigh. "If it's anything like your project, the pink one, I imagine it would have been wonderfully made."

Despite the turmoil she was feeling, the comment made her grin a little. "You really mean it?" Enid asked, a bit too eagerly, a bit too excitedly.

Dr. Kinbott leaned in with a matching grin. "I've worked with crochet before," she shared. "I haven't seen anything better in a long time. You have talent, Enid."

It was like some of her walls started crashing down. Enid felt the lump in her throat loosen. "Would you mind if I worked here, then..?" Her hands were already hovering cautiously over the zipper of her bag. Not brave enough to commit, but enough hope to be ready.

To Enid's relief, Dr. Kinbott was enthusiastic in her response. "I told you, anything you'd want to do is fine. Whatever helps you feel more at ease. It's why I recommended you keep doing your hobbies, Enid."

So Enid unzipped her bag, pulling out the half-formed bee she was making for Eugene. A tightness gripped her chest at the reminder, but she tamped it down. Focus on the project.

"That looks adorable," Kinbott cooed. "Is it for you, or is it for a friend?" She gasped, her smile suddenly dropping. "Oh... is it for Eugene?"

Not trusting herself to keep her voice steady, Enid simply nodded.

"It's beautiful, Enid," Dr. Kinbott said sincerely, which, again, brought a smile to Enid's face. "I bet he'll like it when he wakes up."

"I hope he does..."

She got to work, crochet hook back in hand as she wove in more strands of yarn, forming the stripes of the bee. Enid expected Dr. Kinbott to try to fill the silence with some more therapy questions, to at least make the session more productive, but Enid was pleasantly surprised that she didn't. Instead, she went back to reading her notes, annotating with her pen and occasionally glancing over to Enid with an encouraging smile.

Companionable silence. It was such a contrast to the silence that Enid had in her—Wednesday's—room. On most days, Wednesday flat out ignored Enid, making the room seem colder and emptier. It wasn't a great atmosphere.

Sometimes, though, she could feel Wednesday's eyes on her, scrutinizing her every move and never letting her guard down. The feeling made Enid shiver with discomfort, but she endured it. If she could survive this, she could survive being her friend.

Of course, now she knew that Wednesday didn't trust Enid because she was a—

Focus on the project.

She hit the end of the skein. Enid was almost finished, needing only to close off the head and to stuff it, but she couldn't keep going without buying more yarn.

Dr. Kinbott noticed Enid cleaning up, so she put her pen down. "Something wrong?" she checked. "It's turning out lovely, by the way."

Enid raised what little of the yarn was left between her fingertips. "I need to refill," she said sheepishly. "And it's... I need to go to class, anyway."

She wasn't going to go, but Dr. Kinbott didn't need to know that.

"Tell you what," Dr. Kinbott said, opening her drawer and putting her files back in. "Around this time, I don't have any appointments. Would you like to come back sometime this week? As many times as you need. I could sense that you need somewhere to just... be, and I'm happy to offer this space for you."

Tempting. So, so tempting.

Did Enid want it? More than anything at the moment. Did she deserve it..?

"I'll think about it," she conceded, echoing her words from a previous session. But this time, Enid really meant it.

A quick stop in the Jericho craft store ensured her supplies were refilled. She wandered around some more, briefly considering a stop at the Weathervane, but that only reminded her of Tyler, his condition, the previous night.

She steered clear. There was nowhere to go but back to Nevermore.

Maybe Enid was going to class after all.

Enid felt the mask slipping back on as she crossed the boundaries of Nevermore. She wasn't quite looking forward to talking to anyone, but roles had to be played. Nothing was wrong with Enid Sinclair.

Being the monster—I'm not even sure if I really am the monster, she thought, though it was a losing battle—was going to be her dirty little secret. At least until she can find a way to disappear and keep everyone safer.

She could clear her name, but was that really less difficult than dropping off the face of the Earth? She couldn't even defend herself in front of Wednesday.

Enid didn't want to disappear. She just wanted to be left alone at this point. Friends seemed too big of an ask. She wanted to live a life, however awful it may be, as long as she wasn't hurting anyone.

And maybe a life where everyone didn't hate her as much.

Keep the mask up. It's going to be over soon.

She did a pretty good job of holding up pretenses. Enid smiled and waved and chattered, and people didn't notice anything weird. If Enid was much too bouncy while listening to Botany, nobody batted an eye.

It helped that Wednesday was nowhere to be seen either. She would only be a reminder of what Enid potentially could be, and what Enid took from her.

Should she go back to her clubs? Should she retire to Yoko's room early? Should she find a quiet place to stay in? Nothing seemed right to Enid. Was she allowed to do any of those things?

Despite everything, knowing that she shouldn't want things she didn't deserve, Enid found herself looking forward to seeing Dr. Kinbott again the next day. She found herself counting down the minutes to the next hour, and the hours to the next day, letting them slip by unnoticed.

She didn't remember actually heading back to Yoko's room. She didn't remember any conversations she may have had—whether she dodged any questions about Wednesday and about whether Enid was actually okay—and she didn't remember falling asleep.

Blank.

Enid turned the knob. Dr. Kinbott was on her desk again, much like the previous day, much like all the other sessions. Her smile was as warm as that first time, and all other times, as she greeted Enid again. "I'm so glad you decided to stop by again," Kinbott said.

By now, Enid should be used to the routine: her head filling with all the issues she'd been dealing with, Dr. Kinbott imploring her to share, and Enid being unable to say anything.

But the gaps in her memory... they gnawed at Enid, chewing away more and more of her sanity and eating her up with the possible guilt. Was there a rational explanation? Was there a chance Enid wasn't the monster?

The hesitation was heavy on her tongue once more, but Enid pushed through. "I... I've been..." She swallowed heavily, her hands gripping the armrests of her chair tightly. "There's been holes... I can't– I'm having trouble remembering things."

Her delivery was stilted, stammered, staccato, but she finally, finally was able to articulate something to Dr. Kinbott, who appeared worried and thoughtful, chewing on Enid's words.

"How long have you been having memory issues?" she asked gently, already jotting down something on the sheets in front of her. "How much do you lose?"

"I don't know," Enid replied, her voice hitching as she tried to recall anything, anything at all. She started second-guessing herself. Maybe she was just very forgetful—it's not the first time she'd been called absent-minded or ditzy or having her head in the clouds. Was transforming into a monster, forgetting the whole experience, actually what was affecting her memory, or was it just Enid being really dumb?

Dr. Kinbott dropped her notes, giving Enid a reassuring smile. "That's okay, Enid. A lot of things can cause slips in your memory. Have you been getting enough sleep? Good sleep? Skipped any meals recently?"

"I... don't remember. I'm sorry."

Breathe.

The world around her warped and faded in and out of view. Dr. Kinbott's voice, distant and muffled, slowly made its way to Enid. "Breathe, Enid. It's okay. You're in a safe space." Her attempts to soothe Enid wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

Forgetting was such a funny feeling. Most of the time, she didn't remember, so of course she wouldn't feel anything about it. Remembering that you've forgotten something, though, that was panic-inducing. It was trying to catch smoke with her hands, only for it to pass through her fingers, leaving her with nothing but emptiness.

Like hanging off a cliff, grasping for a ledge, only to keep closing her fists around air.

"We'll work through this slowly, okay?" Dr. Kinbott suggested. All Enid could do was nod weakly, still feeling like she was high up in the air, her feet kicking helplessly as she tried to find her footing.

Enid focused on her breathing, taking deeper, longer breaths to counter the short, panicked sniffles she'd been taking. Everything was in a haze, but it all came to a focus when she shut her eyes and pushed everything down...

"Easy does it, now."

It took a few moments for Enid to stop her hands from shaking. It took a few more for Enid to steady her breaths. And it took a final few moments for Enid to muster up the courage to open her eyes up again.

"That's better, that's good," Kinbott said gently, her eyes not leaving Enid's. "You're doing great."

The words almost set Enid off again, with how rarely she ever heard something along those lines, but she got a hold of herself before she fell apart again. "Thank you," she responded, her voice wavering.

"It's remarkable progress," Dr. Kinbott assured her. "Even if it's hard, being able to start talking about it is how you start recovering."

She remembered her massive rant during her first session. It didn't feel good, but it was cathartic in a sense, being able to let out some steam and to prevent herself from bottling up her feelings.

It was tempting to do it again.

"I moved out of Wednesday's room," Enid confessed quietly.

Dr. Kinbott, once again, was taken aback. "That sounds drastic," she remarked, leaning into her chair. "What happened?"

Enid recounted a heavily sanitized story, being scant on the details. She started with Wednesday's birthday, her worries about Wednesday and her gift, the hollowness that followed her for the whole day. She didn't mention Gates Mansion, instead being vague about an argument.

"I wouldn't really call it an argument..." Enid said, averting her gaze. "I mostly... it's me who mostly talked and I– it's that– I couldn't call that room my own anymore. It's not fair to Wednesday."

"But it's not fair to you, either," Dr. Kinbott pointed out. "Why are you being so harsh on yourself?"

Would you still be asking that if you knew that I was possibly a monster? Would you still care? Would I really be deserving?

"I think it's fair."

Kinbott shook her head. "Respectfully, Enid, I disagree, but I can see your mind is made up on that. And you have somewhere else you're sleeping in, then?"

Not that she deserved it. "Yeah, I asked Miss Thornhill if I could stay in Yoko's room temporarily, and they both agreed to it." But maybe she should be sleeping in the woods.

But the longer the session went, the less Enid wanted to sacrifice herself. God, she was so selfish, but she wanted to stay here, with Dr. Kinbott. Enid didn't want to run. She didn't want to disappear. She didn't want to be a monster, or a freak, or a runt, and she didn't want to be Enid Sinclair.

Within the walls of this office, Enid was starting to become comfortable in her own skin, to crave whatever it was in Kinbott's words.

Selfish.

She kept coming back. Dr. Kinbott was always there, always listening, always offering her advice, grounding Enid when she got overwhelmed and offering reassurances.

"You're doing really well, Enid!" she cheered once, and Enid almost burst into tears.

Enid kept attending her classes, with the knowledge of being able to go to a session afterwards keeping her going, like a promise of a hot meal in the middle of a blizzard. Nobody asked Enid what was wrong. They didn't see anything wrong.

Good.

Nothing was wrong with the Enid who attended Nevermore, who did well in her classes, who went back to crocheting with her peers and performing mini plays in drama club. No, all her problems went to the Enid that attended therapy. It was embarrassing to come in and break down in tears every day, but she couldn't deny that it was getting easier to talk and to find solace in someone who was willing to listen.

However, a stutter in her daily routine came up during this particular session. Enid had just finished recovering from a particularly grueling discussion about her home life, and Dr. Kinbott was reviewing something on her phone when she frowned.

"Oh, dear, I have an emergency appointment for tomorrow," she said, tapping at her phone.

Enid's heart drooped at the news. "We won't be able to meet tomorrow?"

"The day after," Kinbott promised. "You're doing remarkably well, Enid, I'm sure you can find something to do during that time tomorrow."

She wasn't quite sure she would, considering these sessions have become quite crucial to her schedule, but Enid put on a brave face. "I hope to see you then," she agreed.

Enid was determined to see the day through, to prove Dr. Kinbott right about the progress she made. It was only one day. Enid could surely manage that.

Being in Nevermore still during the time of her session was surreal. Even if she was only lounging around the quad, her chest tingled, ready to burst with more thoughts and feelings, but Enid had to hold it all in.

Save it for tomorrow.

It all came crashing down late afternoon, when Wednesday Addams sought her out while she was in her crochet circle.

"Enid."

The voice. Her voice, cutting through the gossip, the chatter. Enid wanted to forget about Wednesday, to move on, to figure everything out by herself, but she couldn't. She might as well have tried turning the wool in her fingers into fibers of gold.

She thought she built up enough strength over the course of the week—being able to talk to Kinbott, throwing herself back into her extracurriculars, and even reluctantly discussing things with Yoko—but all it took was one word from Wednesday. Enid's name, passing through her lips, and her legs became jelly.

The room had gone quiet. She wasn't sure if everyone stopped to gawk at the two of them, or if it was all in Enid's head. Whispers kept getting louder, pounding at Enid's ears.

She knows you're a monster.

But Wednesday looked distinctly uncomfortable. Nevertheless, she pressed on, pushing forth an unflappable facade. "I've been mistaken."

What?

Her mouth was dry. Wednesday nodded, making Enid realize she said it out loud. "I should not have accused you of anything without sufficient evidence," Wednesday said, her deep brown eyes locked onto Enid's.

A lump formed in Enid's throat. "Do you still think I'm..." she glanced around the room, frantically checking if anyone was listening to them. It was a room full of gossips and chatterboxes, it would be disastrous if the information leaked. "That I'm still that?"

"I do not," Wednesday confirmed impassively.

What was Enid supposed to do? She wanted to heave a sigh of relief, to thank Wednesday profusely, but this didn't really erase her unease. What if Wednesday was wrong, and Enid was the monster?

Though the fact that Wednesday changed her mind probably meant she found evidence, right..? Enid wanted to believe it. It would solve everything. She can go back to trying to be normal—as normal as she was before Wednesday walked into her life.

"Would you like to move back into our room?"

Oh, God, could she? Enid missed her stuff, but she resigned herself to never getting them back. If Wednesday was offering...

It's so tempting to say 'yes'. Should she?

She dropped her project, zipping it up into her bag. "May I really..?" Enid wanted to make sure, and, once more, Wednesday nodded curtly.

The walk back to Ophelia Hall was silent, their footsteps echoing in the empty hallways. Enid stopped quickly at Yoko's room to gather what little she packed. Her room was thankfully empty, so she didn't have to explain anything.

Wednesday watched Enid from the doorway as she put away the mattress, kicking it back under Yoko's bed. She slung the red backpack over her shoulder, smiling weakly at Wednesday.

Her face remained unimpressed, instead turning to lead Enid up the stairs, but she wasn't really expecting a reaction from her.

With some trepidation, Enid slowly pushed the door open, only to be greeted by a messy sight—their room was all over the place. Enid's side of the room had plushies all over the floor, and her blankets were tossed aside leaving the bed bare. Her desk had been ransacked, with drawers pulled out haphazardly and trinkets scattered underneath. Enid's laptop lay face-down on the floor beneath, beaten and battered.

Wednesday's side of the room wasn't much better. The bed was made, indicating that she still slept in the room, but everything else was chaotic. Much like Enid's desk, Wednesday's shelf drawers were emptied out, contents unceremoniously strewn below. Ink was spilled over sheets of paper, and books were scattered about.

Enid rushed over to her side of the room and cradled her laptop. Hopefully it still worked, but she turned to Wednesday, crying out, "What the hell happened here?"

"There was... an incident," phrased Wednesday carefully with a shrug. She crossed over to Enid's side of the room—something that she never did in her entire stay—shadowing Enid as she picked up the materials on the floor.

Alarm bells were blaring in Enid's head. Something was wrong—more wrong than the room being in this state of disorder. To the best of her ability, she catalogued the pens, the crochet hooks, the magazines on her desk. The stuffed toys were all accounted for, and Enid's laptop mercifully turned on, still password locked, though it was almost out of battery.

All the while, Wednesday watched her carefully, much like she had been on most other days before today.

Strangely, one of Enid's desk drawers was shut, untouched even. She gingerly pulled it open to reveal a strange collection of objects.

"That's interesting," Wednesday remarked from behind Enid. "How did you get those?"

Enid emptied out the drawer on her table one by one—an inhaler, a pair of glasses, an envelope, a necklace. "These aren't mine," Enid said worriedly, her eyebrows furrowed. "Seriously, Wednesday, what happened while I wasn't here?"

"I was rather hoping you would be able to tell me," Wednesday said coldly, her arms crossed. "Rowan's inhaler, Eugene's glasses, all trophies from the monster's victims."

She opened the envelope to reveal printed photos of Wednesday, taken from afar. Enid's fingers went numb, dropping the envelope and scattering the photographs across the floor.

"T-this isn't... I didn't do this, Wednesday," Enid moaned. "I don't know how these got here." Her hands started shaking. She tried to find any sympathy or a hint of belief in Wednesday's face, but she simply carried on with her words, barbed and stinging Enid with every declaration.

"Then how did they get there?"

Enid looked around in a panic, trying to find an explanation, an ally, anything to explain the objects in her desk. She never came back to the room. Even if she was the monster... surely she'd remember collecting these, depositing these in her drawers. Surely Enid would remember trashing their room.

Right?

"Where's Thing?" she squeaked. "Maybe he saw—"

Smack!

Enid flinched as Wednesday slammed a knife onto Enid's desk, the flat of the blade making a loud noise against the table. "Thing is unavailable, not after what you've done," she growled. "I know you're the monster, Enid, stop pretending otherwise."

She couldn't find a reply. All Enid could do was stare at the dagger, all blood-stained and sharp, and think of how easily Wednesday could turn the blade against her.

The objects weren't hers. She'd never seen them in her life. She hadn't entered this room since that fateful night. She should open her mouth and tell Wednesday that.

But she froze and said nothing.

"The creature is known as a Hyde," Wednesday began calmly. She didn't even wait for a response. She kept her glare leveled at Enid as she traced her fingers over Enid's desk, covered in scraps of paper with doodles and handmade trinkets.

She picked up a handmade bracelet, rotating it and examining it as she continued, "Hydes are artists by nature. Temperamental. They wear their hearts on their sleeves."

Her heartbeat was deafening. Enid couldn't deny Wednesday's words. The room around her was spinning, spinning, making her feel sick to her stomach.

"The Hyde lies dormant," Wednesday recited, "until unlocked by chemical inducement or hypnosis, such as, say, by a professional psychiatrist."

Dr. Kinbott. Wednesday thought she was turning Enid into this... Hyde thing. A flash of irritation surged through her. It was one thing to accuse Enid, but Dr. Kinbott, who had been nothing but kind to Enid, who had been the only one willing to listen to her?

"That's ridiculous!" Enid protested. "I didn't even know Dr. Kinbott until after Eugene was attacked."

"Hm." The dismissive tone in Wednesday's response set Enid on fire.

Enid's ears perked up. She could hear voices in the hallways, harsh footsteps on the stairs, an argument.

Closer, closer, closer.

Bang!

The doors burst open, and Sheriff Galpin rushed in with two cops, followed by an irate Principal Weems. He pointed his gun straight at Enid, who put her hands up in horror.

"This is highly irregular," Weems was screeching. "You do not get to barge into student residences!"

Sheriff Galpin ignored her, telling one of his deputies to cuff Enid. He kept his gun aimed at her during the process.

"Enid Sinclair," he spoke gruffly, "you are under arrest for the murder of Dr. Valerie Kinbott."

"M-murder? She's dead?" Enid gasped. The words barely registered in her head. It did not compute.

She said she'd see Enid tomorrow, that they'd talk some more, that Enid would always have her to visit approach.

And now...

The first tears started trickling down her cheeks. That was not something she could have ever imagined. The news filled her with a cold, icy numbness that spread from her chest, with a panic-inducing thought striking Enid.

Did she kill Dr. Kinbott?

"When did she die?" she begged, fighting against the cuffs. With enough effort, she knew she could break through them, but she needed to hold off until she had her answers. "Please!"

"This morning." Principal Weems answered, who was the only one in the room who looked uncomfortable. (Ignore that, in the corner of your eye. Wednesday does not care.) "She was attacked in her office, shortly after Miss Addams came for an impromptu session."

During when Enid's session was supposed to be. If Enid came anyway, would she have been killed alongside her? Would she have been able to protect her somehow?

Enid didn't kill Kinbott. She couldn't have, right..? She never wanted this.

"I was in the quad," Enid protested, as a last-ditch effort. "I was there, I didn't leave Nevermore today!"

Sheriff Galpin frowned, before turning to Weems to confirm. With a sigh, she asked Enid, "Do you know anyone who could vouch for you, that you were indeed here during the time of her attack?"

Enid's heart sank. She was sitting alone when it happened. People were definitely milling around, but they had their own worlds to be in. There was no way they noticed Enid.

"No..." Her hands went slack, no longer attempting to break the chains of her cuffs. For all Enid knew, what with the gaps of her memory, she could have been the one to kill Kinbott.

She wouldn't. She really wouldn't, but the monster, whether it was her or someone else, clearly didn't agree with her.

A few more tears made their way out of her eyes. There wasn't any escaping this. She deserved it.

Weems shook her head sympathetically. She faced Galpin again. "Miss Sinclair did not kill Kinbott. I do not believe it for a second."

"But she has Kinbott's necklace, and all these other items from similar victims," Sheriff Galpin groused, jerking his gun in the direction of Enid's desk.

"I've never seen these before, I swear!"

"We can't set aside the evidence," the Sheriff said, ignoring Enid's comment. "This girl was also present when my son was attacked a week ago."

Principal Weems stiffened. "I remember Wednesday mentioning this. Was it true?"

All eyes were on Enid. She couldn't lie. She thought she got away with it, what with the empty halls, with Xavier going ahead of her, but here it was. The unraveling.

"I..." I was only following Wednesday. I was worried about her. I would have stayed at Ophelia Hall if Thing didn't ask. But no, Enid promised. She'd take the blame. Even now, she couldn't turn against Wednesday, and Thing didn't deserve it either. "It's true. I was there when Tyler was attacked."

Galpin's eyes flashed. "You attacked my son, then? I'll have you—"

"Enough!" Weems cut in forcefully. "Launch an investigation all you want, but do not detain her without absolute, ironclad proof."

"She's a suspect!" Sheriff Galpin roared. "She deserves to be locked up with those—"

"If you continue that sentence any further..." she warned, but she trailed off into a tired huff. She straightened up, looking pointedly at Galpin. "I know the loss of Mayor Walker was hard on us, but that's no reason to let this cloud your judgment."

Right. The mayor was dead too. In all honesty, the news slipped past Enid. She knew it happened, it just didn't seem as urgent or important to what had been happening at the time.

For a long time, Sheriff Galpin matched her glare, but eventually he caved, gesturing for his men to uncuff Enid. "We'll be back with your evidence," he sneered. "That girl isn't as innocent as she looks."

"For once, I quite agree with you, Sheriff," Wednesday said, finally breaking her silence. Sheriff Galpin left with a scoff.

Enid's heart broke at the betrayal, at her voice dripping with disappointment.

Weems rounded on Wednesday. "You called them? Behind my back?"

Wednesday was defiant, mutinous. "I was willing to do what you were not. Go ahead and protect a murderer. I won't wait until she claims another victim."

"You are out of line, Miss Addams!" Weems snapped. "One more infraction, I said. One. Not only did you accuse a fellow student—and I must stress, she has not been proven guilty—but you also sent Normie law enforcement to Nevermore, to students' residence." She pinched her nose in frustration. "I have no words. I'm very disappointed in you."

"As am I," Wednesday spat bitterly. "This institution is a farce."

"Then it should come as no surprise to you that tonight would be your last in Nevermore," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Wednesday's gaze flitted from Weems to Enid, her eyes full of unfiltered disgust, hatred. "I refuse to share a room with a monster," she declared coldly. She retrieved the dagger on Enid's desk, waving it in a fury as she added, "I imagine she was also the one who attempted to kill Thing."

If Enid's heart wasn't already shattered, then that final statement was the piercing blow. She wasn't the monster. She couldn't be. She wouldn't kill Dr. Kinbott, or Rowan, or hurt Eugene, or even Thing. She wouldn't.

But Wednesday clearly thought she was capable of it, and far, far worse.

"I'll leave," Enid croaked out. "I'm sorry. I'll go back to Yoko's... or– or I'll go to that inn we used for Parents' Weekend."

Principal Weems frowned. "Enid—"

"I'll leave," repeated Enid, more firmly now. "I wasn't meant to be here," she told Weems, but she was glancing at Wednesday as she did so.

"Very well," Weems sighed. "Stay in Miss Tanaka's room. It's better if you do not leave Nevermore premises as they conduct an official investigation."

Enid nodded, while Wednesday simply leveled her with a withering glare. "You are putting the other students in danger," she protested.

"Innocent until proven guilty, Miss Addams."

She couldn't bear to hear more. Enid snatched her bag and ran from their room—Wednesday's room, perhaps for the last time.

Enid sped past Yoko's room. Wednesday was right, she could be endangering her for no reason. She kept going, through the hallways, past the quad, into the woods.

The trees were an unfortunate reminder of that night Eugene was attacked, of that night she went to the Gates mansion, but she pressed on, stopping only at the shore of Lake Jericho.

It was peaceful, almost, the lake reflecting the setting sun, with barely a ripple. Enid knew the Sirens lounged around the lake during their free time, but it was late enough that the area was empty.

This was it. Her life was over, wasn't it? She'd never go back to normal. Going home to San Francisco wouldn't change anything. The conversion camps won't work.

Because, even as Enid desperately clung onto the idea that she wasn't a Hyde, she probably was. She couldn't wolf out because she was no Werewolf.

She hurt all those people. Enid was only ever in denial about it, but she was an abomination to nature.

Even if Weems had been able to talk down those officers, it was only a matter of time before they found enough proof to take her away. Hell, Wednesday Addams could probably beat them to it.

If she disappeared...

Enid kept staring at the lake, watching the sun go down. She knew the moon would be up right behind her—almost full, she always kept track—but that didn't matter, did it?

Her life was over.

Lakeside, the silence was serene. Her mother used to say that a Werewolf was always home in the wilderness, that it always welcomed the wolf in them like an old friend. She was disappointed to see Enid always indoors.

(Enid could never watch them transform. They only served as a reminder of what she lacked.)

Maybe it was true for Hydes as well. Maybe that's why she was so calm about it, despite everything.

The exhaustion was starting to catch up to her again. Her head was swirling with all the events—Kinbott's death, Wednesday's apology and betrayal, the scare with the cops—she struggled to reconcile everything.

She laid back, watching the sky grow darker, darker, until the stars slowly trickled in. Enid started counting.

One, two. Kinbott was dead. Seventeen. She was going to be arrested. Forty nine. Her mother would find another reason to be disappointed. Eighty four, eighty five, eighty six. That's Orion's belt. One hundred thirty five. Wednesday...

Enid lost count.

Wednesday Addams. An enigma. A girl who had shown her nothing but disdain, fury, disgust, yet Enid kept thinking about her.

One, two, three, four.

Despite her best efforts, Enid was never going to stop thinking about her.

Fifty.

She thought Enid was a monster.

Ninety six, ninety seven.

I'm a monster.

One hundred forty seven.

No friends, no fur, no family. No room to go back to. Nobody waiting for her.

Her eyes shut at two hundred fifty six. She wished she wouldn't open her eyes again.

But she did, and the sky was bright and blue again.

Why did Enid wake up? It was so peaceful...

She was awake now. No point in dwelling on other possibilities. Enid briefly considered skipping class again—her life was over, there was no point attending anything—but she figured she would keep up appearances.

Let her disappearance be sudden, but quiet. Let them ask for a week, but ultimately drop the subject. Let everyone forget about Enid Sinclair.

Werewolf Anatomy. Chemistry, Mathematics. Outcast History. The classes flew on by. Enid barely noticed anything. Yoko nudged her gently in the middle of Botany, whispering, "You can move back to your room tonight. Addams had been kicked out."

Not news to Enid, as she was there when it happened. "Mhm." She kept her response dispassionate. Enid had no plans of moving back.

She slept outdoors once. She could do it again, and again, and again, until they finally brought her in. Enid could find a cozy spot in the woods. Then, if she couldn't stand it, pay for that Jericho inn for maybe a week.

Maybe she could even just turn herself in. No more waiting in anxiety. At least a jail cell had a bed.

No crochet circle. She didn't pack her materials. No drama club. She'd had enough of pretending everything was okay.

Back to the woods, she went. Dusk was setting in, and Enid needed a place to sleep soon. She passed by the Hummers shed, making her pause. Maybe she could sleep in there for a few days, until she remembered vaguely hearing about Eugene waking up earlier in the day.

No, he wouldn't want Enid near him ever again.

Still, curiosity gnawed at her, so Enid took a peek inside. The first thing she noticed was a corkboard filled with nasty images of dead bodies and gore, forcing her to look away with a retch.

Wednesday's, she presumed.

She shut the door. Enid wasn't going in there, not with the reminders of all the Hyde's victims. Her victims.

Enid was a monster. Enid wasn't. She didn't know what to believe anymore.

Bzzt!

Her pocket was buzzing. Enid briefly considered ignoring it, but it could be an emergency... Did it matter? Whatever.

She checked the caller ID. Eugene Ottinger.

"Hello?" Enid spoke quietly, weakly. Guilt formed in her stomach. She prepared herself for the inevitable dressing down he was about to give her.

"Enid! It's Eugene. I got your number from, uhm, that vampire girl you sit with. Thing's with me and we think Wednesday's in trouble!"

Another phone call, informing her about something bad happening to Wednesday. Her response was exactly the same—blind panic. "Wait, what happened!? Tell me everything."

She waited with bated breath as Eugene began to elaborate.

"She visited me before she left, and she asked about what I saw before... you know, I got attacked. I told her about the red boots and she disappeared. Next thing I know, Thing told me Weems had been killed—"

Her heart lurched. "Weems is dead?"

She heard a shaky breath from Eugene. "Y-yes. It was Miss Thornhill."

Enid swallowed, before hardening her voice. "Where is Wednesday?"

"Thing says they were kidnapped. They took her to Crackstone Crypt and—"

Enid hung up.

A sense of finality washed over Enid as she rested her head against the shed behind her. She watched the moon rise, full and tinted red. A blood moon.

"It takes a very special kind of wolf to transform on the blood moon," her mother told her as a child. "Especially if they first wolf out during one. The stories say they're wonderfully powerful."

Little Enid giggled at her mother's retelling. "Do you think I could be one, Mom?"

"As long as you're a good little pup, I'm sure you could, Enid."

Now, as she stared at the blood moon, Enid wasn't feeling particularly special or strong. She was still just Enid.

(Her mom stopped expecting anything special from her too.)

As hurtful as Wednesday had been, Enid understood. She didn't even trust herself, but if she could overcome her monstrous nature, if she could save her instead of hurting her, it would all have been worth it.

Maybe there was hope for her, after all.

The woods seemed darker than she was used to, but she kept putting one foot after the other. She could hear something, faintly, by the lakeside.

Enid dove through the thickets, trying to get closer to the sound. The trees opened up, and Enid saw it.

Under the light of the full moon, Enid finally got to behold the Hyde in all its horrific glory. To her horror, pinned to a tree with its claws, was an unconscious Wednesday.

There was a part of her that felt relief. Enid wasn't the Hyde. She wasn't a monster. She didn't kill anyone. It gave her peace.

But Wednesday was still in very real danger.

"Let her go!" Enid shrieked, catching the monster's attention. She bared her claws, her best weapon against whatever this creature was.

Maybe if she was able to wolf out, she would have done more damage. She could have wrestled Wednesday away from it, or knocked it down with her weight. Her claws would've been bigger, sharper, stronger, and she could have easily torn through the flesh of the Hyde.

But it's just Enid.

And the creature knew this.

It hissed at her, painfully grating on Enid's sensitive hearing. The rhythmic breathing, the unnatural wheezing—oh, God, it was laughing at Enid. The laughter slowly grew deeper, more human, as the monster shrank before her very eyes.

Wednesday fell to the floor with a thump!, right behind the Hyde, who was human once more.

Tyler Galpin.

He was still laughing at Enid. "Oh, it's just you. I thought it would be someone more capable."

Enid was boiling with rage, but the seeds of doubt had been sown in her mind. Tyler was right. Anyone else could have been standing here, and they surely would have done a better job. But she had to try. She lunged at Tyler, claws aimed to slash at his throat.

Tyler easily sidestepped her, causing her to miss completely. He grabbed Enid and used her momentum to slam her against the floor. "I don't even need to be transformed for this," he gloated as Enid's eyes filled with tears. Not even from the pain, but from the humiliation.

"I hate you," Enid spat.

"And you're helpless," Tyler shot back. "I wanted to kill Wednesday. She was being... difficult. But Thornhill said we needed her."

Her body burned from the impact, but she twisted and tried to kick off against the ground with a feral roar. She slashed blindly at Tyler, but he gripped her hand with unnatural strength before any of her claws made contact.

"And then you came along," he said with a smirk, barely any strain on his face as he held Enid back. "So I thought, maybe I could get to know you. Maybe if I got to play with you, I'd hurt Wednesday in other ways."

Enid kicked his shins, forcing him to let go of her, but Tyler overpowered her after another attempt to swing at his face. He pushed, hard, sending Enid back on the ground.

"Of course, I found out that she hated you. Better than that, she loathed you," Tyler mocked. "And you, Enid, you kept running after her, like a poor, little puppy."

She couldn't go out like this. More tears streamed out of her as the words got to Enid. She couldn't even muster a response, because everything he was saying was true.

Tyler lifted his foot, planting it firmly on Enid's chest. Her breathing got more strained as she tried in vain to push his leg off herself. "No wolf here," he said. "Just a puppy."

"I... I'm not..." Enid protested weakly, struggling against the weight crushing her.

"But you are. Your despair was already so..." Tyler shivered in pleasure. Enid recoiled in disgust, or as much as she could in her position. "...delicious, but it got so much better. I didn't even have to do anything. You did it all to yourself."

He leaned over her, smug grin in full display. "You fell in love with Wednesday, even when she hated you."

Her heart stopped beating. Enid was so beaten down, humiliated, and defeated, but to hear that he was aware of her feelings? To use them against her and shame her?

"Yesterday," Tyler recounted, pushing his foot down further still. Enid couldn't breathe. "Wednesday told me about framing you."

Enid glanced up at Wednesday, bloodied, bruised, and still unconscious on the rocky ground. She framed Enid. She didn't have the evidence.

But Enid didn't blame her. She believed it herself, before tonight.

"And she was raving about Weems," he continued gloating, oblivious to the turmoil in Enid. Or maybe he knew, and he reveled in it. "She told me she caught the monster, but she wasn't talking about me."

He looked down on Enid, a mocking pity in his eyes. "No, she thought the Hyde was you." And he laughed again. "She really thought you were capable of more than you were," he said incredulously. "And you know the best part?"

She didn't want to know. Enid didn't want to know. She didn't—

"Wednesday Addams kissed me right after. She fell right into my hands."

With strength she didn't know she had, Enid let out a rough, gurgling scream and pushed, finally knocking Tyler off-balance. Her claws were out and she slashed, slashed against his leg, his chest, and decked him to the ground.

Even with their situations reversed, Tyler was as smug as ever. "Touched a nerve, there, didn't I?"

She raised her hand, ready to make the final blow. Enid wanted to go for the throat. "Don't you dare say her name!" she roared in fury.

"...Enid?"

Her voice, again. Enid froze at the sound, her hand poised, her claws extended. "W-Wednesday?" she stammered out, craning her neck to look.

That hesitation was all Tyler needed.

"No!" Wednesday yelled weakly, but much too late.

From below Enid, he morphed, his face growing more grotesque, his arms outstretched and his nails elongating into saber-like claws.

Time slowed to a crawl. Tyler, now back to being a vicious Hyde, rose to his full height, making Enid lose her footing. She attempted to bring her own claws down to finish the job, but the opportunity had passed. He simply leaned back to let the tips of her claws barely graze his skin.

He seized Enid's shoulder, lifting her into the air. She watched as he drew his hand back, his sharp claws glinting in the moonlight.

This was it, wasn't it?

From the corner of her eye, she saw Wednesday struggle to her feet, a knife in hand. Enid could hear the footsteps in the mud. Step. Step. Step.

Wednesday would never make it.

The Hyde's claws plunged into Enid's stomach, an uncanny, twisted grin on his face. Pain flooded her insides to an almost unbearable degree, but she couldn't—she shouldn't give up like this.

Enid sank her claws into the Hyde's arm, using the traction to propel herself forward, impaling herself further, and she slashed at Tyler's throat and chest. Her belly screamed with agony, but Enid pushed through the tears, the burning sensations, and she found dark pleasure in leaving deep gashes on him.

(She wasn't going to look down to see her own mortal wounds.)

He dropped her. Enid crumpled to the ground. Stars swam in her vision, from the night sky and from the pain. She couldn't see Wednesday anymore, but her hearing was still picking up her weak footsteps, the Hyde's panting, and what seemed to be the wet sounds of a knife sinking into flesh.

Again, again, and again.

The Hyde wouldn't stop laughing, even as blood gurgled up against its throat. Even as the stabs, slashes, and swipes continued, it laughed and it haunted Enid.

Because in the end, Tyler won, and they all knew it.

She gripped her wounds. Wet. Her fingers were growing numb and cold. Enid nearly shut her eyes to try and ignore the white-hot pain in her abdomen, but she wanted to see the stars before it was all over.

The sounds stopped. Wednesday was done. Step. Step. Thud.

Her face came into view, blocking the blood moon above. Wednesday Addams.

"Enid..." For the first time in her life, Wednesday was looking at her with concern. Regret. Maybe even warmth.

She wanted warmth. Everything was growing colder.

"I made a mistake," Wednesday said. Her voice cracked. "I made every possible mistake."

Could Enid even speak? She was swiftly losing her energy. Maybe that was why she felt so calm, next to the lake. Maybe that's why the trees had been so quiet and why the stars kept her company.

They knew it would be her last day, and the world decided to be kind to her.

And its last gift was kneeling over Enid, hands on her wounds, trying to stem the bleeding, and unspoken apologies on her tongue. "I never should have suspected you. I merely thought..."

"Do you hate me?" It wasn't the question Enid had in mind, but it was the one she whispered. It was the question Enid asked herself with every glare she received from her, with every conversation they had.

Spots were starting to dance in her eyes. Enid had to... she had to focus on... on staying conscious.

"Don't die on me, Enid," she replied instead with a shake of her head. "Please."

"Do you..." she began to repeat, but she was interrupt by a coughing fit. Each hack sent spasms all over her body, waves of pain coming out as tears in her eyes.

Wednesday was shaking her head again. "I thought I hated you. I never should have." Her eyes remained unreadable, but they shone with... No, Wednesday Addams didn't cry. Enid really was that far gone, because she was starting to see things.

"Why did you take him on?" Wednesday asked, a hint of something in her voice. Desperation, Enid thought wistfully, but that was wishful thinking.

Enid drew in a breath, unstable and weak. "Because I..." love... She still couldn't say it. She would never get to say it. "...it was... the right thing—"

"Not at the cost of your own life!" Wednesday insisted forcefully, gripping Enid's shoulders as she cradled her. "Not after everything I've done. Not after how I have treated you."

"Worth... it..."

The stars above her grew into milky blobs. She thought of her mom, and her dad, and her rowdy brothers. She could have been a better daughter and a better sister.

All her stuffed toys. All her unfinished projects.

Enid shut her eyes. She heard the whir of a car, more footsteps, muffled conversation. A male voice, Wednesday, an engine rumbling.

"...medical attention...urgent...now..."

Wednesday kept holding her.

It was fine. It wasn't so bad.

"I'm sorry, Enid," Wednesday said quietly. She wished she could see her face.

"...don't be," Enid replied, just as softly. She tried for a grin, but she couldn't help but grimace as the pain in her stomach took a turn for the worse. "I... wish we got to... be friends..." she whispered.

Wednesday said something, but Enid couldn't hear it anymore. She was slipping away. She felt it.

And Wednesday gripped Enid tighter. They both knew it.

Once upon a time, Enid Sinclair met Wednesday Addams. All Enid ever wanted was to be friends with Wednesday. She tried her best, she fell in love, and she kept falling and failing, until the very end.

But maybe in another life...