This is wrong (wenclair)

Wrong catch?

His brows furrowed for a fraction, then he smiled, surprised.

"Oh! Did you?! That's great!"

"Yeah, I really liked that clip. It reminded me of-"

The door creaks open.

Wednesday steps in-and stops dead in the doorway. Her eyes flick from me to Ajax. Her glare at him could kill a man. Typical.

Ajax lifts a hand in greeting. She ignores it completely. Walks straight to her desk, grabs a book, then walks right back out again.

The silence she leaves behind is suffocating.

"I think you should go," I say to Ajax, suddenly feeling the shift in the room. "I still have to review, and you should too. But I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

He nods slowly. "Alright... make sure you ace that test, yeah? See you tomorrow, love."

He gives me a small forehead kiss and walks out. I don't even say goodbye.

What's wrong with me?

And... what was that with Wednesday?

I should let it go. I promised to ignore her for a while. Maybe that'll help me sort this all out. I'm just gonna shower and pass out. Too tired to think.

Wednesday's POV

I walk aimlessly. Destination irrelevant. I need air. I need silence. I need distance.

Emotions are a weakness I was trained to avoid. They cloud judgment. Fracture clarity. But right now, something is burning under my ribs, and I hate that I can't name it.

I'm not mad because I saw two people together. I've dissected worse in anatomy class.

I'm angry because i'm letting a suspect of stalker in our space.

In her space.

I owe Enid, so if he's watching her, I'll catch him with no remorse.

A sour taste creeps up my throat. I clench my jaw harder. I need somewhere quiet. Somewhere dark.

My boots echo down the stone corridor. I don't even realize I've been heading toward the library until-

"Miss Addams."

I freeze mid-stride. Principal Weems looms in the archway, as though summoned by my unease. She blends seamlessly with the gloom, tall and commanding in her long coat, her voice too soft to be comforting.

"Where are you headed?" she asks.

"The library," I say without missing a beat. "I left something." I lie.

Her eyes narrow. "It's past curfew."

"It's-" Words fail "important" I say, looking up at her.

A pause. A beat of tension. She finally exhales, folding her arms. "Five minutes."

I nod once and vanish into the shadows.

The library is a cathedral of silence. Cold. Hollow. Dust motes float like ghosts in the filtered moonlight seeping through the high windows. Every creak of the floorboards under my boots feels louder than it should.

I slip between rows of shelves, the scent of aged paper and candle wax settling over me like a blanket. I reach the far alcove-the one no one else bothers with-and sink into the cracked leather chair by the arched window. My book waits, abandoned hours ago when I first stormed out. I open it, the whisper of the pages louder than a scream in this stillness.

But I don't read.

I feel it.

That shift in the air. The weight of a gaze.

I close the book without a sound.

Someone is here.

Not the creak of a shelf or the shuffle of pages. Not yet. It's more primal than that. Like the air itself holding its breath.

I move between shelves, ears tuned for anything-floorboards creaking, the rustle of fabric, a breath.

Nothing.

I pivot to return-

My book is gone.

My calm vanishes.

My hand slides instinctively to the hilt of the blade in my boot. The leather grip is cold. Comforting.

Now I hear it-soft footsteps retreating, too careful to be casual.

I give chase.

Except I am the one pursuing. And this time, the victim isn't helpless.

Each step is measured, silent as a predator. The rhythm of my boots mirrors a heartbeat-theirs or mine, I don't know. The library twists, narrow shelves creating a maze. And at the end-movement.

I cut the angle. Lunge.

Grab.

I slam the figure into the shelf. The knife kisses skin.

A pained gasp.

"Shit!"

Ajax.

His leg is bleeding.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he chokes, half in pain, half in panic.

I don't lower the knife. "Who's the other one?" I growl.

"What? What the hell are you talking about-?"

My blade presses harder. His eyes go wide.

"Do I need to rephrase, or do you want a matching scar?"

I want to. I want to leave him bleeding and breathless. I want to watch him crawl back to wherever he came from. But then-

Enid.

A flicker. A ghost of her voice in my head, soft and trembling. She would hate this. Not just be disappointed-hurt. Frightened.

And I've done many monstrous things. But I've never wanted her to look at me like that.

He shakes his head wildly.

"I-I don't know what you mean! I came to return your book!"

He raises a hand, revealing the exact one I lost.

"I saw you pick it up earlier, and when I came here I saw it on the couch. I figured I'd give it back!"

I narrow my eyes. "How did you know I was here?"

"I didn't! I was already here looking for a biology book for the exam! I swear!"

I stare at him, pulse slowing. He might be lying. He might not. But I've made my point.

I lower the blade.

Ajax stumbles back, one hand pressed against the cut on his thigh.

"You're crazy," he mutters. "Fucking psycho."

I say nothing. I grab the book from where he dropped it and vanish into the dark.

Let him call me mad. Let him bleed.

This isn't over.

And next time, if I catch someone where they don't belong...

I won't miss the artery.