Chapter 11 - Wednesday - In Trouble

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Thank you for reading! I don't own any of Wednesday! Please let me know if you enjoy! Updates every Saturday!
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Xavier stared out his window as the rain poured down.

His eyes were dilated, his mouth open.

Having gone back to his father's beach house to retrieve the broken canvas, the second he had touched a blanket used in Wednesday's nest, the vision had begun.

He saw himself crouched beside her while she lay in a white bed, with one of her petite hands grasping his for dear life.

Her fair face had twisted into a mask of pain as she writhed and groaned.

Down between her bent legs, masked and gloved medical staff rushed around, peering, passing supplies, and whispering to one another.

White sheets covered her from thigh to chest, but Xavier heard it as he lingered by the door and watched himself in the vision, that loud, primal shriek that erupted from his beloved's lips just before a shrill cry rang out.

"AAAAAGGGHHHHH!"

"WWWWWWWAAAAAAA!"

In an instant, Xavier's vision ended.

He started and gasped as he found himself thrown back into the present moment.

As he swallowed dryly, he looked around with wide eyes.

For a second, his heart clenched as he thought.

Had that been......?

Could it be possible.....?

Xavier closed his eyes as he pressed a hand to his chest.

The last years had given him more and more experience as a seer.

He was wise enough to correctly distinguish a true vision from a fabrication of his own heart.

A pregnancy would have been far too convenient.

As he walked over and grabbed the canvas he had come to collect, he wished that earning a place by his beloved's side would have been that easy.

Xavier frowned as he locked the front door once he stepped outside, the canvas still in his arms.

A baby, a family, Wednesday would have abhorred all of it.

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Wednesday stayed in her room like a trapped dragon while she contemplated her options.

Alone and unsure, the potential future seen from any and every angle terrified her, though she refused to admit that to herself or anyone else.

Thing was the only living.....thing.....that knew her secret.

Well aware of his friend's grim disposition, he treaded lightly as the days went by.

One.

Two.

Three.

Seven.

Each day, Wednesday rose from her bed, ate her breakfast, worked, ate lunch, worked, ate dinner, and went to bed.

She felt fine.

She was fine.

Everything was fine.

Normie doctors knew nothing but Wednesday knew her body.

It had all been a lie.

By the eigth day, Thing grew impatient.

As Wednesday's fingers flew across her typewriter keys, he wandered over and retrieved her phone from its usual resting place on top of her ebony armoire.

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