Chapter 8
Maybe it was from the medicinal tea that had an almost numbing effect on her body or the strange yet comforting warmth and safety of knowing that Enid and Thing were there that put her unusually troubled mind at ease, but Wednesday slept deeply and dreamlessly for a while. But as she began to stir, the pain returned, as did the existential dread.
First, it was a fiery hot sensation in her shoulder, spreading through her nerves down her arm and a smaller fire in her hand. Then came the nausea, her stomach cramping and rejecting the blood that gathered there when Crackstone twisted his knife in her abdomen. It shocked her awake and she covered her mouth with her hands, gagging as she was thrown back into consciousness. She rolled onto her side to try and relieve the powerful urge to vomit, but it was strong.
With far more effort than it should've been, she pushed herself up into a sitting position with her right hand and doubled over, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and wrapping her left arm around her stomach. A quick glance around the room and she could see that Enid wasn't there which was an odd relief. Her head was still spinning which only exacerbated the nausea and she swallowed compulsively, trying to keep everything down, but it was a losing battle.
"Thing…" she choked out "I…" She couldn't see where he was but she sensed he was still there with her. She gagged, "Thing…I'm going to…"
Suddenly, he was there beside her, handing her a small plastic trash bin just in time. The experience was horribly unpleasant and when she was done expelling her stomach contents into the bin Thing took it from her and she tipped forward, burying her face in her hands as she willed herself not to faceplant onto the floor. She wanted to lie down and pass out again but she was determined to stay awake this time. She had slept long enough.
The room was spinning fast and she was so ready to get off this ride now. She made a mental note to add, "exsanguination" to the list of things that seem like they would be enjoyably unpleasant to actually being downright horrible. It wasn't the dizziness and discomfort so much as it was the unbelievable weakness in her body, her lowered defences and lack of control that bothered her the most.
Thing gestured for her to lie down but she shook her head.
"I am feeling a little better," Wednesday said, though it wasn't entirely the truth. The nausea had subsided now that she emptied her stomach of its contents, but now her stomach cramped from hunger and the horrible taste in her mouth and the smell of her bloodied vomit threatened to make her sick again. She felt better, but only by the slightest margin. She swallowed hard and continued, "And I need to take advantage of that while I can. I don't really feel like myself at the moment. I need to do something about that." She started to stand up but wasn't quite ready yet so she stayed where she was instead. "Where's Enid?"
Thing scurried over to her desk and back with a piece of paper and handed it to her.
"Hey roomie!
If you wake up and I'm not here, I'm at the assembly. I don't know how long it will be but I will be back as soon as I can.
I hope you are feeling better, but you need to promise me you won't overexert yourself either way.
Relax and take care of yourself until I get back, OK?
<3 Enid."
"Assembly?" she muttered. She wracked her foggy brain and only vaguely remembered Enid mentioning it. She also vaguely remembered her mentioning that she needed to call her mother. There was no way she was going to do that until she was more presentable. Embarrassingly, she realized that she still hadn't braided her hair, and mentally kicked herself for not even noticing until now. She must've been a mess.
Mustering all the energy she could spare she slowly pushed herself to her feet, ignoring Thing gesturing for her to stay put. The room went topsy-turvy for a moment and her knees almost buckled, but she managed to maintain her shaky balance. With slow, deliberate and heavy steps she made her way to her desk and collapsed into the chair, sparing a moment to rest her head on the desk, angry at how much energy that short walk cost her.
OK, maybe she wasn't actually feeling any better.
She inspected the bandage on her hand and frowned at the sight of the small patches of blood that had soaked through. It was definitely time to change it. And it would be wise to check the stitches on her shoulder. She had been so close to passing out when she did them, she needed to be sure they were holding. She reached under the collar of her shirt to touch the bandage to check. It was hot to the touch and wet, and when she looked at her fingers they had a very thin layer of blood. There wasn't enough to noticeably bleed through her shirt, but she would have to check it properly and possibly fix it again.
"Thing, hand me my first aid and suture kit," she said.
Thing crawled onto the desk and pointed to the black wooden box with the Staff of Asclepius carved into it. It was right there where she had left it on top of her typewriter case.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, mentally kicking herself for not noticing. It was distressing to be so out of sorts that she wouldn't even notice something right there in front of her. She took pride in noticing almost everything. Thing made a gesture of concern. "I'm fine. Just…still out of it, I suppose."
She opened the lid and noticed that either Enid or Thing had put the bandages she took from the infirmary in the case and apparently cleaned up the mess she had left the night before. It was then that it dawned on her that her bedding had been packed away, but someone made her bed for her.
She figured she should be grateful, and she was, because they were looking after her when she was too weak to look after herself, but mostly she was angry. Not at them, of course – though under normal circumstances she would've been furious that they went through her things without permission – but at herself for being so weak and out of it in the first place. She had never been knocked down this hard before. It was humiliating.
On the other hand, she never escaped certain death by supernatural means before either, so maybe it was to be expected. Still, it went against the Addams Family nature to show weakness and admit defeat. When an Addams gets knocked down, they get up again, stronger than before – so why did it seem like she had no strength left? She was just so damned tired.
As though reading her mind, Thing reminded her that she had been through a lot and just needs some extra time to recover and not to stress out about it too much.
"No, it's been long enough," she muttered. He responded with skepticism. She rolled her eyes and snapped, "Yes, I realize it hasn't even been a day, but that's no excuse. I had been healed. I should be fine by now. Fine enough to take care of myself anyway." She grabbed her first aid kit and braced herself to get up again, intending to head to the bathroom to properly tend to her wounds. Her stomach churned, her vision wavering as her shoulder sent fire through the nerves in her arm. She swallowed hard. For the moment, moving was not an option.
She had been healed. The other injuries that came after were relatively minor.
She had been healed. She wasn't dying, though somehow it still felt as though she was.
She had been healed. It was just blood loss, and it wasn't dangerously bad. Just inconveniently so. Goody healed her before the blood loss reached the point of no return. Although the shoulder wound may have brought her slightly closer to the edge...but she had been well enough to fight Crackstone and still win so this should be nothing.
Goody…
Her breath hitched. The tightness in her chest was back. The existential dread and fears she tried so hard to suppress bubbled to the surface of her mind. She swayed dizzily in her seat, there was a pressure building in her brain, making it hard to think and see clearly.
She had been healed. But at what cost?
Thing approached her with concern.
"I'm fine," she said, not recognizing her own voice. It sounded so hollow and faint. She felt like she was going to faint. She felt like the world was going to swallow her whole, and that world was made of fire.
As Thing had pointed out, it hadn't even been a full day, but she was already so tired of this nonsense. She was supposed to be stronger than this. She was somehow in more control when she was dying.
There is no controlling a raging river. You must learn to navigate it without drowning.
She had a sudden urge to get some air. There was a foul smell in the room, it made her want to throw up again, and it seemed far too hot. She glanced over at the window that led to the balcony. Maybe she should play her cello, that always calmed her and helped clear her head.
Wednesday…
Goody's voice.
The path of a Raven is a solitary one. You'll end up alone, unable to trust others...
"Is that supposed to scare me?" she mumbled to the voice.
Thing patted her hand and signed a question, looking confused and concerned.
"I'm talking to…" she glanced around the room, but no one was there. It was just her and Thing. Of course, no one was there. Goody was gone – a consequence of being healed. And why did she even think for a moment that she could play her cello right now with her injuries? She rocked forward, grabbing her desk to keep upright. "It's…nothing…I…" her speech was slurred and she struggled to find the right words.
Something was wrong. It was messing with her ability to think.
Thing signed to her with urgency. He seemed to be upset about something but she could barely focus her eyes on him to make out what he was trying to say.
The only thought that made sense was that she needed air. It was uncomfortably hot, smelled horrible and the pressure in her head, while not painful like her shoulder, was unbearable. She also wanted to lie down. Maybe then the world would stop spinning.
She glanced back at the windows, one side a swirl of colour the other clear, a faint bluish-gray from the autumn sky outside, both sides wavered, rippling as though the window was made of water. "I'm fine…I just need air…" she said in almost a whisper.
Her feet were moving before her brain had a chance to remind her that standing up was a bad idea. She barely made it out of her desk chair when her blood pressure suddenly dropped. The room tilted sideways and she went down hard.
She let out a soft sound of pain when the impact sent a shockwave of fire through her shoulder and down her arm and then everything cut to black.