¹wild nights, wild nights // x. thorpe

1. my sister very nearly kills someone

suggested track: Winter: III Allegro - Vivaldi

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

MY name is Salem Addams. Yes, Addams. I'm sure you've heard of my family. Many of my relatives are on the FBI watchlist, and others can be found in straight jackets. Some are well-known witchdoctors and seers, and some are known for their martyrdom. Whichever way you've come to learn of the Addams family, I can tell you one thing for certain: each and every one of us is insane.

That is, every last one of us, except for me. And despite how that may sound, it's not something I'm proud of. An Addams takes pride in their madness, but I've no crazy to be proud of. I just have the name and the family, and that is all.

It's so dreadfully awful to be normal.

You could say my demeanor itself could pinpoint my heritage, but I'd tell you you're wrong. To my mother's horror, I choose to see life in a glass-half-full sort of way. Yes, I know, I've tried to fix it but this dreadful positivity clings to me like life.

Then there is the stark difference between myself and my twin sister, Wednesday.

I have no doubt that we will die as we were born—that is, together—but we still could not be any more different. In appearance, we are practically carbon copies. Our hair, the same raven color. Our eyes, the same haunting dark. Our complexions, the same deathly pallor. But that is where the similarities end.

Wednesday is the flower of the Addams family. Albeit she is a wilted flower, but that was how she liked to be. Her tongue is sharp, her gaze is deadly, and she is everything I could ever wish to become.

Beauty, wit, intelligence, a sense of self worth—Wednesday had it all. She fit in with the rest of our kooky family. I could pass as the child of any other normie in the world. Wednesday was the star, and I was the asteroid out of orbit: klutzy, awkward, and cast in the darkness of the star's shadow.

Never mind that, for there has never been a day that I've doubted whether or not my family loves me. Whether or not they're proud, however, is another matter entirely, but their love I was sure of.

So far in my fifteen years of living, the only out of the box thing about me were my dark and intruding thoughts, which had been attacking me everyday since my first thought was formed. These thoughts... they made me think awful things, made me want to do terrible things to myself, and they made me feel so very isolated.

I'd never told anyone about it, and only two souls knew of my troubles: my roommate at Nevermore Academy, and Wednesday. My sister only knew because around a year ago, she had a vision of me harming myself with the edge of a razor blade. That was her very first vision, and ever since she'd been getting them more and more frequently. I was worried for her, because the things she saw were almost always macabre.

She brushed me off whenever I expressed my concern, putting more mental plaster on those walls she built up, so I quit asking after a while, afraid she would block me out completely.

I hadn't seen my sister in weeks, not since the last family weekend at Nevermore Academy.

In case you don't know, I'll tell you. Nevermore Academy is the one and only boarding school dedicated to teaching and protecting young outcasts like myself. Out in the world, there were normies with such a hatred for us that we weren't exactly safe, so many parents sent their children off here every semester.

I'd had a similar situation. All through middle school I'd attended normie school with my siblings, and had enjoyed it as much as I could have. I was bullied and pranked and even mugged on several occasions. None of the other kids wanted to be my friend, seeing me as just another Addams freak. It was a compliment of the highest degree.