She's an Agent of Chaos, I'm a Softie

c. 5: Coming Out

  Oh, back here again.

  Back into the throes of this poor creature’s plight, forced to endure the same torment. This was Enid’s least recurrent dream, and every time she had it felt like a twisted surprise. The thing screamed; Enid hollowed, too. She and the thing’s senses were one, as if their nerves were stitched together, woven into one huge mass of shambling agony. The thing’s body twitched, battling against its metal restraints.

  It was strapped to a chair, the silver eliciting a faint burn, one which wasn’t apparent enough to hurt, but just irritating enough to drive you mad. Enid could sense the same horrid man that was synonymous with this dream looming above them, but he wasn’t alone this time. Even more peculiar, they had voices. “No, this one won’t do—she’s not like her at all,” a man said, his voice raspy and writhe with fatigue.

  “Come on, she was a jock,” a woman said, well-spoken, almost posh. Her upbeat tone shadowed the man’s dreariness. She seemed almost amused by the situation—by their pain.

  “She was never this aggressive,” he said. “Stronger, too—very strong. While I can use that, she’s not a very good replacement. Remember, you promised me perfection—an exact copy.” The woman let out a huff, one that swiftly turned into a laugh.

  “Fine, then let’s make another; fifth times the charm, right?”

  “No! Not whilst the fourth is still running around,” the man snapped. “Besides, it’d be a waste of tissue…the fourth iteration shows promise.”

  “I think you put too much stock in her, but whatever you say, boss,” she said mockingly. “So long as you hold up your end of the deal.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll both get our fair dues, so long as you’re staying true to yours.”

  “I always do," the woman said. Enid could sense the thing's consciousness fading, and for a brief moment before she was wretched away from the dream, she could have sworn she saw for a brief moment. It was just a flicker, but for a fleeting second Enid thought she saw a flurry of stars about her.

---

  Enid awoke with a start, gasping for air as though she had been deprived of it. She clutched her chest, trying to steady her breathing. Her heart was beating rapidly against her chest, and the hair on her head stood up. Her wrists burned, but Enid could not tell whether she was actually feeling it or if it was all in her head. She glanced down at her wrists, sighing; it was just in her head…thank God.

  “You’re not going into cardiac arrest, are you?” said the shrill voice of Wednesday Addams, her dreariness unwavering. The dark girl sat at her desk across the room, giving Enid a curious side-eye, one that wasn’t genuine enough to assume she cared, but attentive enough to say that she was interested at least.

  “No, I’m not,” Enid said breathlessly, slinking out of bed. “I had an awful dream.” Wednesday’s brows raised, ever curious.

  “I fail to see the issue.”

  “You’re starting to become predictable, you know?” Enid said, rooting through her wardrobe, only to scoff. The vast array of colours was nice, but it overwhelmed even Enid at times. “I say something bad, you envy me, I call you weird...”

  “Weird is a subjective term, Enid,” Wednesday said. “For example, one might find your menagerie of stuffed animals weird.” Enid snorted at that.

  “Do you find them off-putting, Weds?”

  “First off, call me that again and I will—”

  “—what, cut my ears off and stitch them onto one of the stuffed animals?” Enid interjected, an amused smile on her face. “So, is that a yes or no to you finding them off-putting?” Wednesday narrowed her eyes at the wolf, giving a tired sigh.