Listen to Me Now // Wenclair

Three

There was a suffocating heaviness in the air as Enid leaned against the bathroom sink, her expression twisted into something of sorrow and disgust; pitiful and miserable eyes staring back at her. It went without saying that Enid hated her scars; hated the way they flaunted themselves seamlessly onto her face and made her skin burn, almost as if the Hyde itself had buried its claws back into her flesh, tearing through her skin all over again. She hated how they contorted heinously on her face, almost as if screaming her failures to the world. But, most of all, she hated how they served to be a horrid reminder that, if she had shown up even a moment later, the Hyde would have succeeded in its mission. It would have killed Wednesday.

The thought alone made Enid nauseous, her fingers clenching against the edge of the sink as she felt her throat burn, the scars itching through her skin. She could feel the way her heart thundered and twisted in her chest; the way her thoughts practically bled into her eyes and made her see Wednesday's body, limp and dead, blood caking her skin and soaking into her torn uniform, eyes dulled and glossed over like faded porcelain. If she had been a second too late, if Enid hadn't been able to wolf out, she knew that this may have been the outcome, a fate similar to Rowan's falling onto cold hands. Wednesday's hands.

Enid could feel the way her tears stung behind her eyes, glaring into the grave reflection of herself, nails extending into claws as rage, sorrow, and self-loathing buried their way beneath her skin. There was disgust scratching at the back of her throat, her failures injecting themselves into her blood and making her weak to the knees; breaths growing shallow and raspy. Enid folded forward, fighting the urge to wretch as she reached for the faucet with a trembling hand and twisted the knob, watching the water wash down onto white porcelain and down the drain. She took a deep, ragged breath, closing her eyes as she forced her mind off her dark, unforgiving thoughts. Wednesday's okay, Enid told herself, reaching a cupped hand beneath the faucet's exit. She's alive. She's okay. With a hand full of water, Enid splashed it onto her face, allowing the cool temperature to wash across her skin; seep into her bones. She's okay.

"What are you doing?"

A familiar voice lurched Enid out of her thoughts, the werewolf letting out a startled yelp as she whirled around to find Wednesday, hair messy and unbraided; a black nightgown draped all the way down to her ankles. Though with a seemingly neutral expression, the young psychic held a curious air to her, her head tilted slightly to the side as she looked over Enid's disheveled appearance, brows raising slightly as she took notice of the water that dripped from her chin and soaked into her shirt.

Enid, not at all in the mood to talk about her feelings, worked her jaw, eyes fluttering to her hands as she played with her nails. "I'm just...looking," the woman settled with, chest almost burning with anxiety.

"At?"

Enid swallowed, her hand shakily reaching up to press against the slight bumps on the side of her face. A part of her could still feel the way the Hyde tore through her like butter, blood dripping down her face in copious amounts. "Scars," Enid responded simply, quickly tearing her hand from the side of her face. Even touching them made her want to wretch.

"I see," Wednesday hummed, giving Enid a close and cautious look. It took her a moment, her lips parting slightly as she searched for the proper words—or, at least that was what Enid assumed—as her hand slowly reached up and only barely ghosted over the darkened skin on the side of her face. The shorter girl's jaw worked, breaths slow and steady, expression almost prudent. "I always thought they were..." Wednesday paused, giving a moment's consideration; "...pretty." Enid almost laughed at the way her lips twisted awkwardly at the word. It was becoming clear how hard Wednesday was trying to compliment people the "uncanny way", as Wednesday had once put it. Though, she still couldn't help the bubbling feeling of self-pity at Wednesday's words all the same.