Woe it's Wenclair

Hospital

Wednesday

It's cold. Too cold. Thin sheets cover my body like a veil on a corpse. There's an insistent beeping, some monitor. The air smells like plastic and hand sanitizer.

"Wens!"

Who's that? A figure sits beside me, with golden hair and a wet face. Enid.

"Wens, oh my god, you're awake."

I try to speak but my voice won't work.

"No, no, it's okay, you should rest your voice, your neck is... you're..."

She doesn't finish the sentence. Just covers her mouth and sobs. What's happened to my Enid? Why is she crying?

"E-Enid?" I manage to let out. A sharp sting accumulates in my throat as I speak, making my eyes water.

"N-No, don't, don't talk wens, just rest."

She squeezes my hand. That's when I started to become aware of the rest of my body. I lay in a stiff hospital bed, but I can't feel my body. My mind must be clouded from the drugs.

I just can't remember what happened. What happened? I look up to her in question, hoping it comes across.

She meets my eyes and her head falls on the mattress, sobbing.

My eyes widen and I reach for her. I just want to comfort her. A nurse walks in, but I don't look at her, I'm too focused on Enid.

The nurse asks a question and Enid responds. She jots something down and moves towards me, and I glare at her.

"It's going to be alright, Wednesday. I'm just going to check your vitals, and you can go back to sleep, okay?"

I shake my head violently. I don't want to sleep. I have to stay awake, I have to comfort Enid. I need to find out what happened.

"Does she- does she remember?" Enid asks, looking in worry at the nurse.

"She won't for a while. Due to the medication."

Remember what? What happened? I try as hard as I can, but I don't remember, I can't. I hate myself for it.

Enid sweeps my hair behind my ear and holds my hand tightly.

"It's okay, it's going to be okay, just rest, okay? Please?"

I nod slowly, but I don't close my eyes. I don't think I can fall back asleep.

The nurse says something, and soon everything turns black.

Enid

I can't sleep, I can't eat. The nurses let me stay in the room overnight, and I never leave. I don't think I can.

I think a week passes. Wednesday's parents are with me now, and I can't help but feel extremely guilty. If I had taken better care of her, none of this would have happened.

The doctors say she's getting stronger day by day, but it doesn't make it any better. She shouldn't even have to be here in the first place.

Mrs. Addams is almost as worried about me as she is about Wednesday. It feels wrong. This is my fault anyway. She makes me eat, but half the time, if I can walk, I go and throw it back up anyway.

I just feel so horrible.

It's all my fault.

Wednesday remembers now. She can't talk much at all, due to the- due to what happened.

She sort of just stares at the wall. I don't know what to do. When she does talk, she's always asking me if I'm okay, that she's sorry, like I'm the one in the hospital bed.

The man is dead. Wednesday said she was able to kill him when he thought she was passed out. There will be no lawsuits, when asked Wednesday just shakes her head, and her parents follow her wish.

She's going to be discharged soon. She'll be an outpatient for a long time after she leaves, in fact, the therapist has already started sessions.

When the therapist comes in I usually wander around the hospital until someone tells me I can't be there. Then I find a bathroom and stay until the motion sensor lights go off. It gets so dark, and I can't handle it.

Wednesday is really worried about me today. I hate it when she is.

"E?"

That's what she calls me now. It's easier with her healing throat.

I nod, still looking at the floor.

"What- what do I have to..." she pauses, grabbing at her throat.

"Just rest, Wednesday," I whisper.

"No, no listen."

I sigh.

"What... I... do... for " she stops, coughing.

"For you... to... forgive me?" She asks, her voice small.

"What?" My head shoots up in alarm.

Forgive her?

"What?" I ask again.

"You... angry." She muttered.

"What? What? No, no Wednesday I'm not, I'm not-" I sputter, getting up from my chair to kneel by her bedside.

"I'm not mad, you don't have to do anything, I forgive you, of course, I forgive you."

"You... do?"

"Jesus, what made you think- no, I'm not angry, not at you, never at you. Do you understand?"

She closes her eyes and nods, letting out a breath of relief.

"I would never- did you, did you really think- did you really think I was mad at you?"

"...sorry."

"No! No, don't be, I- oh my god, I'm sorry, I never meant for you to think I was mad at you."

"Yeah?" She asks, lips pulled up a bit.

"Yes, of course," I respond.

She lifts her shaking hand, reaching for mine.

I reach back, and notice the deep red and purple bruising around her wrist. I freeze.

She keeps her hand there, trying to reach mine. Everything starts to get blurry. I can't breathe.

"E. Enid."

I'm brought back to the present, and immediately try to find the source of her voice. She's still holding out her hand, struggling, but still holding it out.

"Please?" She asks.

I take her hand as soon as I can, caressing the back of it with my thumb.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened," I mutter.

She squeezes my hand weakly and doesn't let go for a long time.