Snap Twice | Wenclair (English)

XII

Wednesday Addams was a rather simple person within her own complexity. Eternally tortured by the reality of knowing she was alienated from the world, she had decided at an early age to renounce any emotion that could shake the psychological constructions she had painstakingly built for herself day by day. Guided by an existential nonsense, she had begun to spend her free time reading Sartre, Machiavelli, Camus, Kierkegaard and Schopenhauer, building a more or less coherent amalgam between all these philosophers. Of course, influenced by the life of exclusion that permeated the Addams mansion, Wednesday had skipped the part of life where she was supposed to learn how to invest her time in understanding and appreciating the emotions of others. Simply put, Wednesday Addams was alone. Alone since childhood, alone inside her mind, alone among her books, alone with her thoughts. Alone by choice.

It was, therefore, no wonder that her priority was always any route that appealed to her sense of logic and rationality, leaving in crumbs any other alternative, mainly if it involved the use of the heart. Growing up without any apparent problem in this personal philosophy, she truly believed that human emotions were nothing more than a useless embellishment to individual potential. Of course, with peers such as she had had in her earlier schools, she sometimes doubted the existence of ideal potential as well...

When Wednesday Addams first arrived at Nevermore, she was still treading with every step in the security of her own beliefs. The difference, of course, was that at Nevermore, not everyone was afraid of her. It was hard to be an outcast in a school full of outcasts. Until that moment, Wednesday Addams realized that the cornerstone that built her beliefs was based on the fear she inspired in others. Consciously or unconsciously, she had put herself out of harm for 15 long years by avoiding the social factor by bullying people close to her. Now, at Nevermore, she found herself prey to the experimentation the universe was doing on her by pushing individuals like Xavier Thorpe, Larissa Weems, Bianca Barclay, Tyler Galpin and, of course, Enid Sinclair into her personal space.

Enid Sinclair. The latter was a head-turner through and through. Armed with unrelenting patience, an empathy of envy and unbearable Golden retriever vibes (according to Wednesday), the girl had managed to withstand each and every one of the Addams girl's defenses without losing the smiling charm against which Wednesday had no weapon in her arsenal of sarcasm. Sincere in her intentions and loyal to her own heart Enid Sinclair constantly tested in her ability to hurt the undeserving. Therefore, in every contact the girls had sustained since they had first met, Wednesday Addams could not help but soften more and more the tone of voice she used with the blonde, only with her.

The day Tyler had made them flee the Gates property, Wednesday had experienced for the first time a feeling she had read about in countless volumes, but had not been able to experience firsthand: fear. She wasn't afraid of the possibility of being discovered, or of meeting head-on with the monster that had caused so much trouble. Indeed, she was not even afraid of the idea of being torn to pieces, should the situation arise. But the moment she found herself locked in that clothes elevator with Enid Sinclair whimpering in terror behind her, she felt an icy emptiness in her stomach and a strange thickness in the air that forced her to take giant breathes. With all her senses alert, she tried to listen between Enid's moans and the pounding of her own racing heart in her skull for any sign that would tell her how close they were to danger. As soon as Tyler ripped open the thin steel elevator door, peering out his reddened eyes, Wednesday felt that she could in that instant give up everything he was and possessed as long as Enid Sinclair wasn't there. In a newly awakened instinct, she had stretched out her slender arm in a protective gesture as she waited for some fortuitous event to compel her to take the next step.

Narrowly escaping a worse encounter with Tyler, Wednesday had experienced a strange pain in her chest when she discovered Enid packing back into the bedroom even before she uttered any words. Confronted for the first time by someone capable of articulating in words Wednesday's emotional shortcomings, Wednesday was at last able to shed some light on the darkness in which she had stored all that feeling of belonging she had not needed to develop. Of course, she did not have time to tell Enid that she was understanding for the first time everything that the blonde was now throwing in her face. The loneliness that Enid dragged with her as she left the room had completely deafened Wednesday, who, not knowing how to handle that torment of new feelings, had taken refuge in her safe zone: her sense of rationality.

The elusive goal of discovering who was behind the monster kept Wednesday Addams from plunging into a spiral of self-reflection for which she didn't feel remotely prepared, but which, unfortunately, became inevitable the night she returned to that single room and found Thing, her closest relative, dead. Everything she had coldly and meticulously folded and arranged in the boxes of uselessness overflowed in an explosion inside her heart, realizing how much someone could fear the loss of that which makes them feel loved. After all, Wednesday Addams felt loved. She felt part of the Addams clan because Thing was an Addams. She felt accompanied because Thing was there. She felt loved because Thing loved her. And behind this torn veil of panic at the coldness of her former isolation if Thing died, there was Enid Sinclair...

When Enid Sinclair returned to the room and greeted her with a tender smile, Wednesday Addams was unable to discern what strange, unearthly force kept her from approaching her in tears. In a clumsy stumble of feelings and words, she could only manage to say "Thing missed you..." and thanks to the forces of evil or some pious spirit lurking around at the time, Enid Sinclair understood what she meant. They needed no more.

Nor did she need more as she hung trapped by Marilyn Thornhill in the crypt of Crackstone. She needed no more for she knew that, if she did not stop whatever was happening at that moment, Enid Sinclair would be in danger. So, as she felt herself bleeding out after Crackstone's stabbing, her thoughts dripped along with her blood to the memory of that pair of blue eyes. The cold embrace of death she had patiently longed for was now shown to her as the sad possibility of helplessness to care for that which at that moment her soul longed for.

Resigned to present herself as a sacrifice if she should, she feared not as she found Tyler outside the crypt, ready to finish the job. When the boy transformed, and with no real plan in mind, Wednesday accepted any possibility then presented to her, even that of dying at his hands in the hope that guilt and regret would cause Tyler to stop Thornhill himself. But when Tyler was distracted from his attack by a new presence, it took Wednesday mere seconds to understand where she stood on the board - Enid Sinclair had saved her. And not only that, but she had done so transformed. Now, knowing that Enid was in danger fighting with Tyler, the black-haired girl forced herself to act as quickly as possible, seeking to stop the person controlling Tyler and thus, save the blonde as well.

Exhausted and fearful of not having managed to finish with Thornhill and Crackstone in time, Wednesday walked with Bianca and Eugene in search of the rest of her companions, while her heart struggled with the pain that squeezed her chest not knowing if Enid was still alive... In her mind she relived all the mistakes she had made with the girl since her arrival and a feeling of hatred against herself fought for control of her mind, regretfully. That's why she didn't notice in full consciousness that the bleeding, petite figure of Enid Sinclair caught her in her arms, pressing her tightly against her body. Still in shock at the fleeting sight of blue in the midst of that sea of red, Wednesday took a few seconds to study the face in front of her and, when she finally understood that Enid Sinclair was wounded but alive, she was defeated by her own need to wrap her up and separate her from the world with her own existence.

The days following that collapse of her last boundary with Enid Sinclair were filled with stumbles and imbalances between her calculating mind and her now fired up heart. She found it hard to take her eyes off the girl and could have spent every waking hour of her day contemplating how her wounds healed, with the patience of time and healing. And though she had always been a great fan of wounds and scars, she wished fervently for Enid to be completely free of them.

Needless to say, the anguish with which the blonde whimpered in sweat and panic as she slept did nothing but wring Wednesday's heart, who would have traded Thing (not true, of course) to give the girl's dreams peace. It wasn't as hard as you might think for her to give in to sharing a bed with Enid, willing to do her part for the peace of mind of that warm, wounded body that crept in between the glaciers of her soul, cracking them. That first night together, Wednesday had spent quite a bit of time wrapped in Enid Sinclair's slow breathing and gazing in the moonlight at the noticeable cuts on her face before falling asleep as well.

The next day, as she looked in the mirror, she found a light in her own gaze that wasn't there before and finally gave herself some time to try to study everything that these past few months had so upended her life. She hesitated for a while to enter the shower, wishing she could stay with Enid's scent for all eternity, though finally her desire for neatness won out. When hse opened the door to find Enid and Ajax, she realized she had forgotten about the boy. The boy and what he represented, that he was so much more than a gray cloud in the increasingly cloudless sky of her thoughts...