Chapter 1
Wednesday was never afraid of dying. Death came for everyone sooner or later, so why bother worrying about the inevitable? She had just always hoped that when Death came for her, it would be a good death. And this? This was not it. She was wrong about everything. She failed to save the school and now she was dying, alone and helpless to stop the massacre that was to come.
Her one consolation was that when her body was eventually found, they would see that she was stabbed in the gut and not in the back. At least she would go down facing Death head on.
She groaned and slid further to the ground, still clutching the knife lodged deep in her gut. She had a high tolerance for pain, but this was starting to be a little too much to handle, even for her. The knife cut through vital organs, but not the ones that would've sped up the death process like her heart or lungs, and the pain had gone beyond the threshold of almost pleasure to almost unbearable and she contemplated yanking the knife out to speed up the process. But just because she didn't fear Death that didn't means she was ready to welcome her with open arms, and she couldn't bring herself to do it.
A wave of pain washed over her but she refused to give in and cry out, instead gritted her teeth, breathed in through her nose and closed her eyes until it subsided. Even though she was alone, she did not want to lower her guard and appear weak. She wanted to prove, even just to herself that she could remain strong until the very end. She was determined to not let a mortal wound break her spirit no matter how torturous it was. She was an Addams through and through, and an Addams did not go down easily, nor did they dare show their enemies weakness, even in defeat, even if that foe is Death herself.
She was so angry with herself for letting herself get killed. Despite the multiple attempts on her life since she arrived at Nevermore, she didn't think her death would come so soon, and certainly not like this. Not just when everything was coming together after such a colossal failure. She had thought for sure she would've gotten her revenge and defeated Crackstone and he managed to slay her with hardly any effort and he couldn't even give her a swift death, no. It just had to be slow and excruciating, leaving her to wallow in her failure for her last thoughts.
Maybe I will come back as a ghost, she thought, grinning slightly at the idea. She would haunt the hell out of Tyler and Thornhill and make their lives delightfully miserable. She would get to see her funeral too, something she thought was one of the worst things about dying. While other girls had their dream wedding, she had a dream funeral and always thought it was a shame that she would have to miss it, what with the whole being dead thing.
As a ghost, she could haunt her family too, so it's not like she'd really be gone. And she would still get to see the friends she never thought she'd have.
This was, of course, assuming that she became a ghost. Who moves on and who becomes a ghost was not an exact science, but if the Unfinished Business Theory was true, then surely, she was going to be a vengeful spirit any time now because if anyone had unfinished business, it was her. She was supposed to stop Crackstone, and he killed her. That asshole.
Her trembling hand gripped the knife and she tried to brace herself to pull it out. She didn't want to die, but there was no going back now. She knew she was beyond saving. She couldn't just lie here and do nothing but wait for Death to come at her own pace, she needed to speed up the process so maybe, just maybe she could fulfill Rowan's mother's prophecy in spirit form and save her friends.
Her friends.
She never thought she would ever have friends. Up until recently, the only people in her life who even tolerated her were her family, and that was all by design. And it baffled her that after all she did to push them away, for reasons she did not understand, they still cared about her. And she cared about them. She had spent years building walls, closing herself off and learning to not only tolerate pain and misery but to revel in it, just to prevent people from having the power to hurt her again. Yet she somehow found people who saw right through her stone-cold heart and liked her anyway, just as she was. She still couldn't believe that it could've ever been possible.
And because of that, despite spending most of her life thinking she was content to be alone forever, in fact she would have preferred it, a part of her that she hid long ago had been unlocked. The aloneness she worked so hard to cultivate wasn't as desirable as it once was. Everything would've been easier to deal with if she just didn't care. But she did care. She cared a lot. More than she was ever willing to admit.
She quietly cursed her friends for making her feel this way, in her last moments, and she cursed herself for letting it happen. Especially since one of those friends she allowed herself to care about was Tyler. And now the others were all in danger because of him. Because of her. Because she opened up and let him in and manipulate her like some damned fool.
She should have known that would happen. He seemed too good to be true – people outside her family were never nice to her like that without wanting something in return. And of course, the only thing he wanted was to use her, hurt her, gain her trust and betray her and lead her like a lamb to the altar. And she fell for it, hook, line and sinker. And now she would never get her revenge.
She blinked and felt a tear fall down her bloody face, and she leaned her head back and grimaced. A wave of agony washed over her and it wasn't just physical. Just her luck she would learn to feel again only to be betrayed by the first person she let herself fall for, the first person who made her feel things she didn't even know she was capable of feeling, and then die.
Weakly, she shook her head. No, she couldn't allow herself to get worked up over everything, not even while dying. There was no use to that and besides, if her friends even survived what was to come, it probably wouldn't take long for them to forget her and remember how awful she was, and how her obsession led them all into danger. They probably didn't even like her that much anyway. And how could they? She never gave them a reason to, so maybe they too had an ulterior motive, but now she'll never know. And even if they did somehow genuinely care about her, after this, surely, they all hate her by now since she was the one who brought Crackstone back and failed at stopping his reign of destruction.
She blinked dizzily at the knife and her eyes rolled back and she leaned her head back, deciding that she got exactly what she deserved. She wasn't one to wallow in self-pity, but this was earned. Everything that happened that led her to this untimely end was her fault, and she was always destined to be alone anyway.
And die alone.
And ultimately, it was better this way.
There was a time she thought that a slow death would be interesting, but now she was almost wishing that the Gargoyle took her out before any of this could've happened.
Another ripple of pain rushed through her body, it was more than she could bear so she bit her lip to keep from crying out, instead letting out a guttural groan. Every breath was getting harder and harder to manage, but she gritted her teeth and rode it out. Even alone, with no audience, she was determined to remain stoic and strong to the very end no matter how torturous it was.
Despite the knife plugging the wound, with the way it had been twisted, she was still slowly, but steadily losing blood. Eventually, she would bleed out and her organs would fail, but she didn't know how much longer she would have to endure before she drew her last breath. Her eyes fluttered and she thought, Screw it and tried to muster the strength to sit up, remove the knife, anything that would give her some modicum of control over her death. If she could just pull it out, it would be over so much more quickly and she was so tired of this. But her hands were shaking and she was so weak she could barely even grip the knife, let alone remove it.
Shock was setting in, she already lost too much blood and she could feel her body shutting down. Maybe she'd mercifully pass out soon and then it wouldn't matter how long it would take for her to finally succumb to the inevitable.
Suddenly, the door to the crypt opened and Wednesday squinted at the sudden light shining her way. A silhouette of a person stood in the doorway, and a familiar, disgustingly high-pitched and sweet voice cried out, "Wednesday!" and Enid rushed to her side, on her shoulder was Thing who jumped down and grabbed her bloodied hand.
Wednesday closed her eyes for a moment, fighting a wave of pain, trying to make sense of what was happening. Enid and Thing were here? Why? How?
For a brief, fleeting, moment she doubted their motives but the thought was gone the moment it arrived. Thing would never betray her, and the genuine concern in Enid's eyes made it clear she wouldn't either. There was nothing but love and concern in her eyes.
Suddenly, she wasn't alone.
And the funny thing was, she wasn't sure if she was disappointed or relieved.