A Journey Of Hearts {WenClair}

Chapter 1.

The Incident Before Nevermore

---

Wednesday Addams had always been an outcast, but she didn't care. The whispers, the pointed stares, and the rumors were all just background noise. She reveled in her solitude, finding amusement in the macabre and a strange comfort in the dark corners of her mind. To her, the world was a stage, and she was the lone actor, playing a role no one could understand.

It was a dreary morning at her current school, one of many she had been shuffled between over the years. She moved silently through the hallways, her footsteps echoing on the linoleum floors, as she made her way to her locker. Students around her chattered noisily, their voices rising and falling like the hum of a beehive. But when she passed, the volume dipped noticeably, their conversations replaced by stolen glances and nervous whispers. Wednesday's dark eyes, sharp and observant, caught each one, but she gave no reaction.

As she approached her locker, a strange stillness settled over her. There was a faint, almost imperceptible shift in the air, like the tense calm before a storm. She noticed a few students lingering nearby, trying - and failing - to look casual. Wednesday's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. Whatever was waiting for her, it was sure to be more interesting than anything else that had happened today.

She reached her locker and, with a slow, deliberate motion, opened it. Inside, tightly bound with rope and gagged with an apple shoved into his mouth, was her younger brother, Pugsley. His eyes were wide but not afraid, more resigned than anything, as if this was just another one of his usual predicaments.

Wednesday's expression remained impassive. She crouched down, her black dress pooling around her knees, and gently plucked the apple from his mouth. her eyes darkened, and her voice dropping to a low, almost dangerous whisper. "I want names."

Pugsley squirmed, his hands still bound, and his gaze darted nervously around the hallway. "I don't know who they were, honest," he stammered. "it happened so fast."

Wednesday's eyes narrowed, a flicker of disdain crossing her face. She grabbed Pugsley's chin, forcing him to look directly at her. "Emotions are weakness, Pugsley," she said, her voice cold and unwavering. "Pull yourself together."

Pugsley continued to whimper, his breath shaky and uneven. Wednesday's patience wore thin, and her grip on his chin tightened. "Now!" she snapped, her voice cutting through his panic like a blade. Her eyes were cold, unyielding.

Wednesday's fingers deftly worked at the ropes, untying the knots with swift, precise movements. The ropes fell away, freeing Pugsley's hands, but before he could say anything, Wednesday suddenly froze. Her head snapped up, eyes widening as a cold, sharp sensation washed over her.

In the vision, the scene unfolded with unsettling clarity. She saw the jocks, their faces flushed with laughter, surrounding Pugsley in the hallway. They moved like a pack of wolves, confident and ruthless. She watched as one of them held Pugsley's arms behind his back while another produced a rope, binding his wrists tightly.

They shoved Pugsley roughly to the ground, and she felt a surge of anger as they placed the apple in his mouth, their laughter ringing in her ears like a taunt.

They hoisted him up and, with a final burst of laughter, shoved him unceremoniously into the locker, slamming the door shut.

Once the vision faded, Wednesday blinked, the hallway slowly coming back into focus. Pugsley looked up at her, concern etched across his face. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice a mix of worry and hesitation.

Wednesday's POV

I'm not about to confess to my brother that I've recently been plagued by visions. They come on without warning, seizing me in their grasp like a predator lunging for its prey. The experience is disorienting - it feels like electric shock therapy, but without the satisfying afterburn.

"Leave this to me," I say, standing up and walking away, each step purposeful and steady. The echo of my footsteps resonates through the hallway, cutting through the murmur of students as I make my way toward the exit.

"Wednesday, what are you going to do?" Pugsley asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and concern as he turned his head to me, his brow furrowing slightly.

I then turned around, allowing a faint, sinister smile to tug at my lips. "What I do best," I declared, the words hanging in the air like a promise.

With that, I turned back around and continued walking, my posture straight and my pace steady. Each step resonated with purpose, and the thrill of what was to come surged through me.

A few minutes later, I walked up the stairs to the pool area, the sound of splashing water and laughter filling the air. My gaze swept over the scene, landing on a group of jocks in the pool, tossing a ball back and forth with reckless abandon.

One of them, a stocky guy with a buzz cut, caught sight of me and shouted, "Yo, look, it's Pugsley's sister!" His voice was loud, dripping with derision. The others turned, their laughter echoing off the tiled walls, each one eager to join in on the mockery.

The main jock turned around, his voice dripping with disdain. "Hey, freak! This is a closed practice!" he shouted, eliciting a chorus of laughter from the others in the pool. Their amusement was a cacophony, echoing off the walls and only fueling my resolve.

"The only person who gets to torture my brother is me," I said, holding up two full bags of piranhas, their tiny, sharp teeth glinting in the bright light. With a swift, decisive motion, I dropped them into the pool.

The water erupted in a frenzy as the piranhas splashed and swirled, their instincts kicking in as they darted around, glistening like silver flashes in the water. Gasps of shock erupted from the jocks, their laughter immediately replaced by horror.

"Oh my god!" one of the jocks shouted, their eyes wide with terror as they all quickly tried to swim away in different directions. The water churned with splashes and frantic movements, each of them desperately seeking safety from the piranhas. I watched the scene unfold before me, a sense of amusement washing over me as chaos erupted in the pool.

The main jock, still trying to maintain some semblance of control, turned back to see the fish swirling around him. But before he could react, a piranha darted forward and bit his leg, its sharp teeth sinking into his skin. He yelped, the sound filled with panic and pain, and I couldn't help but smirk at the sight.