𝐰𝐨𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 // 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐱𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐫

𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫

prompt: wednesday writes tyler a letter.

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letter pov

Dear Tyler,

I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing this in the discomfort of my own room, away from Nevermore. I have enjoyed my time there, and, seeing as I was almost killed multiple times, I look forward to returning next semester.

I assume you are wondering why I am writing to you. I was not planning on speaking to you again, not after that stunt you pulled, but my thoughts are becoming out of control.

I am afraid I have gone insane.

I forgive you, Tyler. I don't have much of a choice than to do so, I'm afraid. My research I have been working on to complete is coming along nicely. I have learned more about you, and I find everything very interesting. I choose to believe that the things you have done were not your fault. Not entirely.

I have been thinking lately, into the depths of the night when I should be getting my required hours of sleep, and I cannot keep my thoughts to myself anymore. They are driving me crazy.

I still love you, Tyler.

Anyone, including myself, will call me insane, mental, or straight up out of my mind. In reality, all of those are true.

I wish to help you.

When I return to Jericho next semester, I will find you, wherever you are being held, and I will help you.

I promise.

While the fact that I am in love with a murderous monster should be deeply unsettling, I find it quite fitting.

This is not all I want to talk about. There has been something else on my mind that I wish to tell you of.

As I was being driven back home from Nevermore, I got a text from my very first stalker.

Exciting, right?

They send me messages, fantasizing my demise, along with pictures of me going about my life. I have been investigating, but have ultimately found nothing. It is driving me insane. I want to know who this mysterious person is. Maybe you can help me.

I can feel their eyes on me, watching as I get into bed at night, and get up in the morning. Sometimes I even think I can hear them. I search and I search, but I always come up with nothing. I do not understand. How can this stalker keep slipping past my fingers?

Even now, as I am typing this letter to you, I feel their hot breath breathing down my neck, watching as each of my fingers click the keys on my typewriter.

It is exhilarating.

I hope that you will be willing to help me figure this out. I hope you truly did like me. All of those sweet nothings you have told me, I know you remember. I wish for you to love me as I love you. But do not try anything, I am armed and ready if you do.

I am going to look more for my stalker now. It feels as if they are in my room with me right as I type. Now that I think about it, I think I can hear them. Their footsteps haunt me in my dreams; it seems it has escaped my mind and is creeping into my reality. The footprints step into my head, they are getting louder and louder, and I can feel their shoes digging into my skull as the steps ring in my ears like church bells. This is a new feeling. It echoes in my brain like a strange melody.

Have I told you I love you?

As I have said before, I hope this letter finds you well. Write back to me soon, if you can.

The steps are getting louder.

I can hear them.

Have I told you I love you?

I hope you love me, too.

Their breath clouds my vision - I am finding it harder to see the keys of my typewriter.

I should go now.

I shall see you soon, mon amour.

W.A.

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Tyler put the letter down after reading it again.

He was deeply unsettled.

Wednesday had been reported missing two days after he recieved her letter.

The sheriff came through the front door, tossing a file on the kitchen table in front of his son.

"They found her," he said gloomily.

Tyler shot up from his seat, relief filling his mind. His dad sat him back down, confusing the boy.

"She's dead."

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i apologize.

ik this is unrealistic, wednesday would never let herself get killed, but i wanted angst, so here we are

requests will come soon!

♡