Wednesday hates a lot of things. The smell of fresh grass, tears, physical affection, law abiding citizens. But her new abject horror that was causing a whole new disparity within her, was the godforsaken treadmill.
She didn't enjoy most physical activity if it doesn't involve dancing to the point she feels as though a very old ghost has come over her, enriching her with tales of old and casting the world into a dark murder-mystery of whodunnit, or if it isn't a skill requiring precision like archery.
Her family's waken the dead ritual was, of course, her favourite form of activity and filled her need for human interaction, as liminal as she so needed.
But the treadmill is a man-made horror, a nightmarish invention the principal has forced upon her to relieve some of her 'murderous rage' or whatever.
She thought her murderous thoughts were of the perfect amount for a healthy teenage girl.
But it didn't quell the so called rage. It made it all the worse. Her head felt thick with pressure, her throat dry and lungs heaving uncomfortably. It was an awful thing to do to someone- damn near inhumane, and worse?
She was sweating.
Wednesday Addams did not sweat.
She did not sweat in the heat of summer, she did not sweat when running for her life (something Xavier took pity on, saying she resembled a very sad and very dead sloth) and she did not sweat while being attacked by the first boy she ever kissed in the woods. Enid would say she did- as well as a few other unimportant people squabbling about. But she didn't. It was merely the sheen of a thousand God's scorning her for past atrocities committed.
But this contraption was causing her to soak through the black long sleeve and pants she wore- having to go as far as tying her hair back in order to keep it from whipping her. It was frizzing up and her bangs were slick against the sheen of sweat on her forehead and it was all grotesque.
Her ears clicked, her body sort of starting back when she got a little too tired and her feet began to drag. She was sloppy and uncoordinated and Edin Sinclair absolutely loved it.
Love was loathing, if you asked Wednesday, as she glowered at the blonde leaning in the gymnasium doorway, a glare that usually set others uncomfortable, but Edin seemed all the more motivated by it. Because she would later confess, it looked like a pissed off raccoon stuck in the mud.
And oh, how she loathed her Lycan room mate more than ever at this very moment.
Edin adored working out. She wasn't a stranger to running around- the werewolf in her seemingly her drive, trying to discharge as much pent-up energy as her human body could take- and wasn't a stranger to the weights section either. She was well respected by all creatures in there- and she was toned. So toned.
It didn't hurt Wednesdays eyes as much as she thought when she caught Edin in just a sports bra, abs and arms shapely and flushed from the shower.
Not that she'd admit to it.
She pressed on, speeding up a bit despite her exhausted cardiac system begging her to stop. She would not allow Enid fucking Sinclair to be the one to ever see her fail.
The treadmill was worse than the electric chair- though she only found it bad once, then found sheer delight in having her brain zapped and turned to a near liquid by her brother. But she would never enjoy the abominable machine whining beneath her heavy footfalls.
And, of course, a waiver was sent home. Morticia was adamant that Wednesday didn't need such activity- stating that chopping things up and digging up resting spots was gruelling on its own, which the school seemed a little disturbed by, if them avoiding Wednesday more than usual was anything to go by.
Gomez seemed thrilled- saying it would do her good, making a sly remark that women love people that take care of themselves. Wednesday had pointedly stared at her fathers belly, wondering aloud how he'd managed to supersede the genome requiring the absence of a Y chromosome for pregnancy.
He'd been jilted
Wednesday had been overjoyed.
But this was her payback. And Enid was allowed to watch it- because no amount of threats or knives buried within an inch of her face as she slept were deterrent enough.
Enid Sinclair was as bad as the treadmill. She couldn't focus on which she'd rather die a fiery death- swaying a bit and nearly getting her shoelaces caught in the damn belt.
Said sociopath walked over to the treadmill, a shit eating grin on her face and a little more glee in her eyes than necessary. "Having fun?"
Wednesday hissed- and then gasped, because good lord her lungs were not as expansive as the ones she'd done autopsies on, and settled on a nice glare.
Enid giggled like a child in a candy store, pointing to the lever with an incline sketched beneath it. "Why not slow down if it's so hard?"
True- no one forced her to set the incline to 11 and speed to 3.5, but if she were to be tortured, she would do it right.
Wednesday took a gulp of air, speaking. "It's not hard. I'm enjoying myself."
Apparently, working out took away her ability to lie, as Enid laughed heartily and leaned over to check the stats. She smelt like vanilla and the crunchy leaves outside and it was a little too intoxicating for a girl lacking oxygen to the brain.
Enid pulls back with a brown in her brows. "You've been at it nearly an hour. I think you're good to stop, Addams."
Wednesday glared, crossing her arms and nearly biting into her tongue when she tripped up a bit. "I do not quit."
The 45 minutes were counting up in something tiring that must be like dissembling a bomb. An activity which she'd much rather do blindfolded and bound than to continue over-exerting the body meant for the fine arts.
Enid hummed. "Okay, we'll... at least think of a goal to get you through the hour marker. Like... you're on your way somewhere and you really wanna get there."
Wednesday swallowed dryly. "Like to your open grave?"
The blonde cracked a smile. "Aw, exercise makes you lose your edge."
Wednesday straightened up, growling. "I have not lost the edginess of my blades, if you'd like to be acquainted."
Enid skipped backwards onto the treadmill in front of Wednesday's, grinning as she started the machine and started at a decent pace, never once breaking eye contact.
"I think you're really just a sweet, cuddly teddy bear deep down."
Wednesday wanted to slap that smile off of the puppy's stupid face more than she's ever wanted anything, exhaling through her mouth.
Oh, that relieved the cramp that had been plaguing her side the last 15 minutes.
"Actually-" Enid continued, doing a strange little two step on the spot, "I think you'd love if I redecorated our room to match the inside to the out. Maybe... pink?"
Wednesdays eyes narrowed, sharp and pointed. "You wouldn't dare."
Laughing. "You don't scare me. I don't think you scare anyone. You've lost all fear factor, really. Maybe I should buy you a pretty summer dress so everyone can see the real you!"
Wednesday was ready to pounce on the other girl, all sluggish movement forgotten half a mile back as a surge of adrenaline shot through her like lightning, her lead-feet starting up a gentle jog.
"Maybe- maybe we can get your hair cut too." Enid was near hysterics- and Wednesday had had enough.
"Never." Stomp. "Threaten." Stomp. "My." Stomp. "Hair!"
She was running now, breathing evenly in and harshly out through her mouth, heat in her cheeks, her legs burning and ears ringing but she found it... exhilarating. She felt a little giddy, like when she first reattached Pugsley's finger successfully, and couldn't help the sound that escaped her.
A laugh.
An honest to god laugh.
No one had ever heard Wednesday Addams laugh- not even herself, as she slowed down and gracefully slipped from the machine.
Enid wasn't so lucky- caught so heavily off guard she tripped herself up, and landed with a loud thud to her back.
Wednesday looks away to laugh. She can't help it. Pain makes her happy, but Enid's pain- superficially, at least- always seems to make her feel like she's floating somehow. So sweet. So—
Wednesday holds onto the hand railing of the treadmill as she tries to get her laughter under control, doubled over with tears forming.
Enid thinks she'd happily lose all athletic prowess if it made Wednesday laugh.