"Welcome back."
Xavier was there, standing over her, as her eyes opened.
Ember raised her eyebrows and sat up.
"Hey, hey, just- take it easy," Xavier said, taking a seat next to her.
She was in a bed in the infirmary. The exact place she had just escaped from. Why did she always end up here?!
"Nurse said you don't have a concussion, but you probably have a nasty bump, huh?" Xavier asked her.
"The last I remember I was walking outside, feeling something along the lines of rage, pity and self-disgust," Ember said bluntly. "I've never felt that way before."
"Yeah, losing to Bianca has that effect on people, I think," he sighed.
"Well, then I saw that gargoyle coming down at me, and I thought 'well, at least I'll have an imaginative death'," she went on. "Then you tackled me out of the way. Why?"
Xavier chuckled. "If someone has guts to take on Bianca, those guts should be saved. So just... call it instinct."
"So you were guided by latent chivalry, the tool of the patriarchy to extract my undying gratitude?" Ember asked.
Xavier laughed. "Mm-hmm, most people just say thank you."
"You've probably learnt by now that I'm not most people," Ember replied harshly. "I didn't wanna be rescued."
"So I should'a just let that thing smash into you?" Xavier raised his eyebrows.
"I would've rather saved myself, actually. I don't want death to embrace me that much."
Xavier laughed. "Good to see that a hit to the head hasn't changed you. But... let's just say I returned the favour."
This confused Ember.
"Xavier Thorpe?" He said.
"That's you," Ember nodded sarcastically.
"Well, you probably don't remember me," Xavier sighed. "Last time we met I was about two feet shorter, forty pounds heavier?"
"What happened?" Ember questioned. He had gotten onto something, now. Something she needed to know more about.
"Puberty, I guess-"
"What happened the last time we met?" Ember cut across his explanation for how he ended up looking like he did now.
"Oh," Xavier grinned, something Ember swore she would never ever do. "Yeah, it... it was my godmother's funeral. Apparently she was friends with your grandmother, and they spent their twenties in Europe, swindling the 'rich and notorious'."
Ember had to stop herself from leaning forward in interest.
"I don't know, but, we were ten, and we were bored, so we decided to play hide and seek," Xavier continued. "And of course, it was me who had the inspired idea to hide in her casket. And... I got stuck as it was headed to the crematorium-"
"I'd heard muffled screams," suddenly, Ember remembered. It was a small thing, a memory in the middle of thousands. One that she had pushed to the back of her mind. And buried. "I thought perhaps a ghost was going to come out. I'd always wanted to see one."
"Either way, you hit the big red stop button and saved me from being flame-broiled. So... I guess me saving you today was just a long time coming," Xavier finished. "Look, Ember, I know you didn't want me to do it... but let's just say I'm glad I did it, okay? Now we're even."
Ember just watched on.
She still wished she had saved herself.
❣︎❣︎❣︎
Ember was just writing more of Wednesday's story on the typewriter. She was kinda getting used to it by now.
That was when she heard a certain scuttling from her right side. She then turned and saw a bump in the duvet of her bed.
She knew exactly what was going on know.
"I knew it!" She said, when she tugged the duvet half off her bed, seeing the severed hand. "Hello, Thing."
Thing was, indeed, a severed hand, with several stitches all over. Ember didn't know quite how he had come into the Addams family, but he had been a good friend of theirs for ages.
Anyways, as Thing tried to escape, Ember hastened to lunge across and pull him from the bedstead he was now clinging to. She held him up, watching as his fingers withered.
"Did you think my highly trained olfactory sense wouldn't pick up on the faint whiff of neroli and bergamot in your favourite hand lotion?" Ember asked, holding the struggling hand. "I could do this all day," she challenged, slamming the hand onto her desk. "Surrender?"
Thing tapped his fingers in surrender. Ember slowly let go of him and he stood up on his fingers whilst Ember fixed a light on him. "Aunt and uncle send you to spy on Wednesday and I, didn't they?"
Thing waved his index finger in denial.
"I'm not afraid to break fingers," Ember warned. "Actually, I'm not afraid of anything."
Thing gave a small shrug of the severed wrist.
"The fact that they thought we wouldn't find out just proves how much they underestimate us," Ember said, more speaking to herself than Thing.
Nevertheless, he started to sign. They're worried about you two.
"Oh, Thing," Ember shook her head. "You poor naive appendage. They're not worried about me. They're just wanting to still be able to control me. Even from afar."
Her head snapped up more as she changed the subject. "The way I see it, you have two options."
Thing tried to run away, but Ember caught him again, opening one of her desk drawers and hovering the hand over it as he struggled. "Option one, I lock you in here for the rest of the semester, and you go slowly insane trying to claw your way out... ruining your nails and your smooth supple skin. And I know how vain you are."
Thing's nails dragged against the edge of the desk and left marks, but Ember didn't even register it.
"Option two," she went on, placing Thing back on the desk and letting him 'stand' again. "You pledge your undying loyalty to me."
Slowly, Thing decided, and bowed down on his fingers.
"Our first order of business is to escape this teenage purgatory," Ember told him.
He did a sign. Do you have a plan?
"Of course," Ember smirked. "And it begins now."
❣︎❣︎❣︎
Therapy wasn't something Ember wanted, but it had just kind of become a thing to her now. She had had to deal with it for several years, so she just had to get used to it.
However, she was not getting used to this. At most, she would be spending half a session with this woman. If all went according to plan. Which, of course, it would.
So, when Weems drove her to Jericho and dropped her off, she already knew what she was going to do.
"Dr Kinbott's office is on the second floor," Weems told her. "Other Nevermore students swear by her."
"And you'll be waiting here until I'm done?" Ember checked. She had to know where Weems was going to be every second of her escape.
The principal just smiled warmly at her, however. "Perhaps, afterwards, we can visit the Weathervane for hot chocolate."
The Weathervane was the coffee shop in Jericho. And Ember was not doing all that. "Principal Weems, these attempts to bond with me are beneath you. Don't think I can't see what you're doing."
And with that, she left the car with her bag (in which Thing lay) and went to shut the door firmly.
Before Weems stopped her. "Given your history, I'm sure you're intent upon running away. I'm here to prevent that from happening."
Ember raised her eyebrows. "Well then I wish you luck."
She actually did go to Dr Kinbott's office, but she didn't plan on staying there for very long.
"I read the notes from your school counselor," Kinbott's told her as she led Ember into her office.
"Mrs Bronstein. She had a panic attack after our last session and had to take a six month sabbatical," Ember said flatly, walking in and sitting down where she was told to.
"And how did you feel about that?" Dr Kinbott asked. She had very blonde hair, a fringe, and very wide set eyes that gave her a rather sly look. Ember also noticed a half-moon necklace resting on her breast.
"I felt like I had finally found my true purpose in the world," Ember replied. "But someone who enjoys knitting as a hobby isn't a worth adversary."
"Adversary?" Kinbott asked. "I hope we can forge a relationship based on trust and mutual respect."
Ember gave a straight faced scoff.
"This is a safe space, Ember, a sanctuary where we can discuss anything," Kinbott said kindly. "What you're thinking, feeling, your views on the world, personal philosophy."
"That's easy," Ember said. "I think this is a waste of my time, I see the world as a place that must be endured, and my personal philosophy is do or die."
"So, for instance, when someone bullies your cousin, your response is to dump piranhas in the pool."
"You know the old saying, never bring a knife to a sword fight," Ember shot back. "Unless it's concealed."
"Point is, you assaulted a boy and showed no remorse for your actions!" Kinbott said, almost unbelievably. "That's why you're here-"
"That was only half me," Ember said. "My cousin, Wednesday, was also a partner in the act. The only reason she isn't here is because she bribed her parents out of it."
"You still dumped a bag of piranhas in a swimming pool and almost killed a boy-"
"He lost a testicle," Ember said bitingly. "I did the world a favour. People like him shouldn't be allowed to procreate. I've answered all your questions," she added, standing up.
"We're not done yet," Kinbott told her, flashing her a sickening and knowing smirk, and she preceded to sit down again. Kinbott leant forward. "Therapy is a valuable tool to help you understand yourself. It can teach you new ways to deal with your emotions. It can also help you build a life that you want."
"I know the life that I want," Ember said back immediately.
"Tell me about it," Kinbott smiled. Ember stayed silent. "Everything said in these sessions is strictly confidential."
She leant forward. "Do your plans involve becoming a musician? I understand you've written and performed music on violin, cello and piano."
It was true. Ember mainly played violin, but she had played the other two and she was undoubtedly good at it.
"And I also hear that you've been writing your cousin's novel for her, on her typewriter," Kinbott said. "You've written one whole novel yourself, right?"
"Yes," Ember saw no benefit in lying here.
"Any luck getting the work published?"
Ember shrugged. "Editors are short sighted, fear based life forms. They fear the work won't profit but don't do anything to make it so. One once described mine and Wednesday's writing as gratuitously morbid, and suggested we both seek psychiatric help."
"Hmm," Kinbott sighed.
"Ironic, isn't it?" Ember asked unblinkingly.
"How did you take that?" Kinbott asked.
A pause. "I sent her a 'thank you'."
What Ember and Wednesday had really done was fill a box full of mouse traps and sent it off to the editor. She wished she could hear the screams.
"I've always been open to constructive criticism."
"I'm glad to hear that," Kinbott said warmly, though she wasn't heating Ember up. "Because I was sent the manuscripts as part of your psych evaluation. The relationship I found most intriguing was the one of Viper, the main character, and her mother, Dominica."
This relationship was based on what Ember had remembered of her own mother-daughter relations. When her mother was still alive. All she knew was, Viper and Dominica's relationship had taken on much more depth when Ember had taken over from Wednesday in writing the novel.
"Why don't we dig into that?" Kinbott suggested.
No reply.
"Ember, part of this journey requires us going to uncomfortable places emotionally-"
"I don't travel well," Ember sniped.
Silence fell between the two of them, and at that, Ember took the chance. "Would you mind if I use the powder room?"
Kinbott raised her hand in the direction of the door and Ember headed over, bag still on her back. She opened the door, headed inside, and closed it again. Locking it firmly.
Looking around, she accidentally knocked a candle on the ground with her bag.
"Ember?" Kinbott's voice came from outside. "Are you okay? Is everything okay?"
Ember didn't answer.
"You can't hide in there for the rest of the session!" Came next.
"I'm alright! Just, preparing myself for our uncomfortable journey!" Ember said.
"If you think of it like that you'll never be able to open up!"
"Because I want to be doing that," Ember muttered.
However, at that, she put her hand over at the top of her bag. "Nail file," she commanded, and Thing, who was inside the bag, handed said instrument to her.
It was very easy for Ember to unlock the room's window, and, glancing behind her, she quickly climbed out onto the roof of the next building.
She walked along quickly and to the edge of the roof, leaning over the small brick wall and looking down at the streets of Jericho. Then, when she was sure no one would see her, she swung herself over the wall and slid down a drain pipe, at the bottom of the building in seconds.
Weems' car was parked just about ten metres from her, but the principal was on the phone, so that made it easy to cross the road and get to the other-
In an instant, she bashed into a guy carrying a crate of apples, and her head shot upwards.
Another vision.
The guy she had bashed into... driving... checking his phone... crying out... apples crashing to the ground...
Car crash... neck broken... guy screaming...
In a flash, Ember's head shot back down.
"Who let you out? You goddamn weirdo," the guy she had knocked into. Of course. Even if her uniform was red, she was still easily identifiable as a Nevermore student.
Ember didn't reply to him. She didn't know what to do.
Nevertheless, she walked off. She couldn't do anything to prevent her visions from happening. Well, her visions about the future.
She went to the only place she could. The Weathervane. The coffee shop in Jericho.
When she got inside, she noticed the barister struggling a bit with a smoking espresso machine. But either way, this time, when the smoke cleared, Ember was there, her intense stare going through him.
"Holy crap!"
He was quite tall, with curly dirty blonde hair and wide eyes. He looked about the same age as Ember. "Do you- make a habit of scaring the hell out of people?"
"It is rather fun," Ember said monotonously.
Then he saw her uniform. "You... go to Nevermore."
"Not by choice," Ember said.
"I didn't... realise they'd changed the uniform," he said confusedly.
Ember wasn't sticking around for any more small talk. "I need a quad over ice. It's an emergency."
The boy stuttered.
"It's four shots of espresso," Ember explained.
"Yeah, I... I know what a quad is," the boy chuckled. "But, erm- spoiler alert, the espresso machine's having a seizure, so... all we have is drip."
"But drip is for people who hate themselves and know they'll never have any true purpose or meaning in life," Ember said.
The boy looked over to one of the guys getting some drip. Slowly, he put the kettle down and walked away.
Ember turned her attention back to the espresso machine. "What's the problem here?"
"It's a temperamental beast with a mind of its own," the boy answered. "And it... doesn't help that the instructions are in Italian."
He held up the manual in his hands. Without hesitation, Ember walked round to the other side of the counter and grabbed it out his hands.
"I need a tri-wing screw driver and four millimetre allan wrench," she said after a few seconds.
"Wait- you read Italian?"
Ember looked at him. "Of course. My cousin and I went to Machiavelli once. It's the native tongue there.
"Here's the deal," Ember said, the guy rendered speechless. "I'm going to fix your coffee machine, and you're going to make my coffee and call a taxi."
"Uhhh, no taxis in Jericho," the guy said slowly. "Try Uber?"
"I don't have a phone," Ember said, using the screwdriver as the guy handed her a screwdriver and she got to work. "I refuse to bow down to the ruler of us all, technology."
"Then you're out of luck," he told her. "Where are you going anyway?"
"I can't see any reason you would need to know that," Ember said. "What about trains?"
"Nearest station is Burlington. It's about, half an hour away?" He estimated.
Ember signed, working on the coffee machine. "You have a valve issue. I've seen if before."
"Where? You have one of these things at home?" The guy was more interested by the minute.
"No, a steam powered guillotine, my cousin built it when she was ten, but I fixed it up to make it fit for use," Ember said, turning the screwdriver quickly. She turned to the boy. "She wanted to decapitate her dolls. I wanted to be able to watch. It was a win-win."
"S-sure," the boy seemed terrified. "Grim Reaper Barbie, makes perfect sense."
Finally, after a quick wrench job, the coffee machine stopped smoking. Ember inspected it, satisfied with her work.
"Wow, thanks," the guy smiled at her, putting the lid back on the machine. "Never met a Nevermore kid who got their hands dirty."
"Glad to be the first," Ember's voice dripped in sarcasm.
"I've never met a Nevermore kid who's this sarcastic before, either.
"I'm Tyler, by the way," he continued. "I didn't catch your name, or is that something I would have no reason to need to know?"
Ember studied him. "Ember."
The boy smiled at her. "Tell you what, Ember, to... show my appreciation, how about I drive you to Burlington?"
"Perfect," Ember nodded. "Put that quad in a to-go cup."
But before she could head round the other side of the counter, he told her. "Uh, I don't get off for another hour."
Ember held up twenty dollars. "I'll sweeten the pot."
"Twenty whole dollars..." Tyler said sarcastically. "Tempting, but, no."
"I'll make it forty," Ember held up another twenty dollars.
"Uh..." Tyler grinned. "Listen, Ember, one fun fact about me... I can't be bought. So either wait, or find someone else to drive you."
Ember rolled her eyes and walked out from behind the counter.
Only to find Wednesday, Thing in her hands, at the door of the shop.