Forced Marriage | Wenclair

3. "Stacked" Emotions

Wednesday Addams

My life would be easier if I put a bullet to my head. Yet, that wouldn't be as fun as I would imagine it to be. I won't be able to use a bazooka, toss grenades in a lake, or play a game of Russian roulette with my uncle. Rather, I will have to suffer through the torture of engaging with the lycanthrope.

This is the last thing I ever wanted. I always told my family that I will never fall in love with someone nor will I want to become a wife. And here I am in the situation I didn't ask for. Wonderful.

"Thank you for watching and give the video a like for more content."

"Can you turn off your infuriating box? I find it displeasing when I am typing," I groaned in frustration.

"You wouldn't be complaining if somebody didn't chop my wired headphones into pieces. Plus, I thought you were typing for only an hour after everyone had left. It's been four hours already," Enid checked the time on her watch.

"I changed my mind," I kept my response short, continuing to type.

While doing so, I heard Enid get up from her sleeping bag and strolled right beside me. She peeked her head over to glance at my typewriter and the paper shifting to the left as the letters are printed on the sheet.

"What are you even writing about?" Enid's curiosity got to her small brain.

"A novel that I have been working on for almost two years. I have another year to go, and it will be completed," I answered the werewolf.

"That's pretty neat! Are you trying to be an author?"

"Yes, but because of my parent's irrational decisions, that's less likely to happen. Instead, I'm doing it for the satisfaction I receive writing. It brings me peace and gets my mind off of things."

"Understandable. Watching videos on my phone, listening to music, painting my nails, and hanging out with friends takes my mind away from the stress I get," Enid mentioned.

"What you listed sounds nauseating just like the colors on your clothing," I proceeded tapping the keys on my typewriter.

"What's wrong with the colors on my clothing?" Sinclair looked down at her attire.

"They are unbearable to look at. Not to mention I am allergic to colors," I lied about the last part of my sentence.

"I did not expect you to say that, but I guess I can acknowledge that you really do hate colors because you're allergic to it," the blonde believed me.

"That is why I only wear black and white. Not only does it suit my personality, I blend in with my family's aesthetic," I added.

"Sounds about right. Say, do you still go to school?" Enid tilted her head sideways.

"No. I graduated two months ago. I celebrated leaving school with Thing and I setting the stage on fire. It was quite amusing to watch," I stopped typing as I thought about the memory.

"You really do give off serial killer vibes. I'm really surprised you haven't skinned me alive," Enid made a point.

"That's because I want to make you my slave. First, I must teach you some tricks like dogs learn to do. Then, you will serve me by being an assistant of mine just like Thing," I turned myself around to gaze at the werewolf intently.

"Thing is an assistant of yours? Jeez Wens. You should give him a break sometimes," Enid placed her hands onto her hips.

"Do not call me that atrocious nickname," I stood up from the chair with folded arms and frowning at the taller girl.