Woe it's Wenclair

Breathing

Enid

In other circumstances, I would be thoroughly embarrassed because of Mr and Mrs Addams's remarks and looks, but I guess it's a nice break from reality.

It only took my reaction to what happened for her parents to figure out what was going on between us. I don't think friends stay with each other for weeks at the hospital and sleep with their hands interlocked.

We're leaving now. Wednesday needs to be in a wheelchair for a bit, and she hates it.

I try to tell her that it doesn't make her weak. She isn't buying it.

"It's only for a little bit, Wens. Then you can just lie in your own bed and relax, okay?"

She nods slowly.

She can talk now. She just doesn't really. I don't blame her.

I don't know what to do. Other than to be there for her. I feel so useless, now and before, when we found her...

Yoko and I were running through the woods, having checked the whole school, I suggested that she might be near the crypt, so we ran. We came to it, the door tightly shut. I was able to open it, and when the light flooded in we were met with two bodies on the floor.

I looked at the smaller one, and deduced that she was surely gone. I didn't think. My feet carried me over to the bigger body, I didn't check to see if he was dead, I just malled his face and screamed, nothing close to words, just howls and disgusting screeches, when I heard a voice over it.

"She's breathing!" Yoko shouted.

I shot up and ran to her side, yelling for Yoko to call the ambulance. The tears had already flooded my vision, I was going off of shapes, but I could easily recognize her, pale skin, and black braided hair.

It felt wrong seeing her how she was. Bloody, bare, half dead. I didn't want to touch her even though I was craving to feel her heartbeat, to reassure myself she was still alive. I didn't want her to think it was the creature in the corner, I didn't want her to think my hands were his.

I remember just whispering to her, voice broken, saying that I loved her and that I was sorry.

"Enid dear, are you alright?"

I'm back in the hospital. The bright fluorescent lights suddenly blind me, and I'm breathing heavily. Morticia stares at me, waiting for a response. I quickly look at Wednesday, reassuring myself that she's still here, and breathing.

I feel tears threatening to flood my eyes, but I force them to go away, not wanting Wednesday to see. She already thinks this is her fault. I can't add anything to that that I haven't already.

"Yes, I'm alright," I respond, making sure to keep my voice from getting wobbly.

"Alright." She responds, skeptical.

When we arrive at the Addams's estate, my jaw drops. It reaches up into the clouds and across the large hill it resides on.

"Oh my god, you guys live here?" I ask, baffled.

Mr. Addams laughs.

"You will too." He says, winking at me and Wednesday.

My face turns red. Morticia gives him a look and he reluctantly adds, "For a while."

I nod. "Thank you, by the way. This is very kind of you all."

"We should be thanking you. We cannot explain our gratitude for what you've done for our daughter."

"Of course," I respond.

"Can we please go inside?" Wednesday asks, rubbing her forehead.

"Of course, my raven," Mr. Addams nods, pushing her wheelchair ahead.

"House?" Morticia calls.

I jump in surprise as the steps to the door miraculously shape into a ramp, perfectly.

I don't ask, I just follow the Addams inside.

The house's decor resembles Wednesday's side of our dorm, dark, dreary, filled with spiderwebs but somehow still clean looking. Portraits of what I assume to be their ancestors, and creepy landscapes cover the walls, and skeletons and bones lay on mantels and tables. Even though I've never been here, and it's creepy as hell, it still feels like home.

The other stairs of the house have already been sloped down, accessible for the wheelchair.

"Enid? Could you take Wednesday to her room?" Mrs. Addams asks, and I oblige.

I push her up the ramp, which is quite easy due to the stairs pushing us up, like a wave. When we get to the top I hear Wednesday whisper, "Thank you house."

I lean towards her and ask, "Is it, like, alive?"

"Basically," she responds, letting me know that there's more to the story.

I squeeze us through her doorway after she navigates us through the long hallways.

She rolls herself toward her bed as I stare at her room. It matches the rest of the house, and it's very similar to her half of the dorm. Her cello rests in a corner, her typewriter on her desk.

"Could you- could you help me?" She mutters.

I look over at her, struggling to get into her bed. I walk over and make sure she sees me before I touch her, lifting her and placing her atop her mattress. I slide off her shoes and pull the covers over her.

"Good?" I ask.

She nods, looking out the window. "It's late. Could you- would it be okay if you, if you slept next to me?"

I smile weekly and nod. She makes room for me, and I snuggle next to her.

"Is this okay?" I ask.

"Yes," she responds, looking for my hand.

She finds it and holds it, resting her eyes. We lay like this for a while, when I start to notice tears slip down her face.

"I'm sorry," she croaks, breathing shallowly.

"Wens. Listen to me. None of this is your fault. It's going to be alright, but I know it hurts."

She nestles her head into my shoulder. I run my hands through her hair. She tries to steady her breathing. I'm just glad that she is.