Not Alone

Sometimes, she could remember fragments of her life.

There was someone, or some people who she had trusted and they betrayed her in the most brutal way. And people who got hurt because of her. She couldn't remember the details or who these people were, all she could remember of it, all she could feel, was the weight of guilt and betrayal that pressed on her soul.

And maybe she remembered her death too. Assuming she was dead. She wasn't sure. She still needed to breathe, she still bled, she could still feel, and the only sensations she knew anymore were that of the contrasting freezing chill in the air and the fire in her core. And pain. Lots of pain. Sometimes, it was unbearable.

I will send you back to Hell.

And maybe that's where she was. Except Hell didn't seem to be a place of fire and brimstone like her past self would've assumed. Instead, it was a cold, endless forest, dark winding paths to nowhere and a thick disorienting fog of smoke in the air, making breathing difficult and painful and she was unable to see the path ahead of her.

Not that it mattered anymore.

No matter which direction she went, she ended up right back where she started.

There was no way out, no reason to keep going. No matter what she did, it wouldn't stop the torture or ease the crippling and absolute loneliness that clawed at her soul, tearing what was left of her into a million little pieces.

Meanwhile, some dark, unseen entity that lurked in the shadows stalked her at every turn, taking pleasure in her torment as the very environment seemed hell-bent on slowly destroying her, threatening to pull her under. And sometimes, she thought maybe she was better off surrendering, letting it take her. Then maybe, the torture would end.

But a part of her feared that surrendering would only lead to a worse fate. That it was exactly what The Dark Thing That Lurked in the Shadows wanted.

So, all she could do was run, hide, claw her way out of letting this nightmarish hellscape swallow her whole and into the abyss.

But she was so tired and weak. She didn't have it in her anymore to continue.

Her body was so badly battered and broken. She had open wounds that seeped blood from her hands, her shoulder, her head, her stomach and no matter what she tried, they would not heal. But she could never bleed out or die, which is what made her think that maybe she was dead and this was Purgatory. Whatever waited for her in the abyss, maybe that was Hell because it couldn't possibly be her salvation or she wouldn't have fought so hard to take her hand and pull her from it when it almost succeeded in taking her.

She didn't know who she was, the Girl with the Rainbow Nails, but the memory of her kept her going. Ever since that day – was it yesterday or years ago? – she longed to see her again.

Sometimes, like now, the torture abated and she was allowed the chance to catch her breath. But in many ways, these moments of reprieve were worse. When she was not forced to run and hide or endure, she would have a chance to think and clear her muddled head which sometimes gave her glimpses of her long-forgotten life and the girl she used to be. Not enough to piece it into something coherent that she could hold onto, or put faces and names to the people who once occupied her world before the absolute isolation and anguish took over. But there would be enough to fill her with shame.

The girl she used to be would be disgusted at the person she is now. That girl was strong, fearless and would never surrender, and she was a twisted, tormented little thing with no name that now cowered at the darkness that once gave her comfort.

She huddled against a tree, leaning her bloody head against the rough bark and pulling her bone-thin legs to her chest and shivered from the cold as deep inside she burned uncomfortably hot. She was so tired, but rest was something that would never come. It never lasted long enough to allow her the chance to replenish her strength or to heal before the next round began again and The Dark Thing That Lurked in the Shadows unleashed more agony so she always had to be alert. She always had to be ready or the ground would swallow her and she would be even more lost than she was now.

But this moment seemed to last longer than usual and she closed her eyes, her thoughts drifting to the Girl with the Rainbow Nails again. She didn't know who she was or what she looked like. Her hand was the only part of her that she had been able to see, the rest of her was a dark silhouette concealed in the black, thick fog of smoke. Who was she? Was she an angel? If so, why did she leave her here, alone, to suffer?

"Come back," she begged hoarsely, and not for the first time. Her throat was raw from screaming, each word feeling like she swallowed broken glass but still she quietly cried out, "Please…"

Whoever she was, she needed her. She gave her something to hold onto, something both tangible and abstract. Hope. Light. A weapon to combat the unyielding torment. But then she and everything she brought with her, was gone. And she hated and resented her for it even as she desperately longed to see her again. And now that she had a moment to rest for the first time…since…she didn't know, she reached out with her very soul, begging, pleading for her to return.

"Come back…"

And as she reached out with every fibre of her being, a sweet scent filled the air. It reminded her of… of…honey and then she suddenly heard a voice in the distance. It sounded so far away, yet close and it was muffled, like they were speaking underwater.

For a fleeting moment, there was a flicker of hope, but hope didn't belong here so it quickly shifted into fear.

She opened her eyes and cowered away at the sight of a girl running towards her. The sight frightened her too much to realize that the thick smoke had retreated, as did the entity that dwelled in its shadow. The girl didn't seem threatening, but she knew better. This was just a new way to torture her, but she wasn't sure how yet, but that was the only thing it could be.

"Stay away," she croaked, her voice as raw as her throat. She blindly reached for a weapon and wrapped her boney and bloody fingers around a fallen branch.

The girl's face twisted into horror and sadness, "Oh god…" she cried, "what happened to you?" There was something familiar about the girl, but perhaps that was part of the trap. The girl couldn't be real. She emulated nothing but love and light and those things didn't exist here.

The girl reached for her and she flinched, cowering away, too broken and weak to fight or retreat. But then she saw her hand and the colourfully painted nails.

Curious, she grabbed the girl's wrist to get a closer look.

"Rainbow nails…" she murmured under her breath. "It's you," she looked up and stared into the girl's eyes and then back at her hand. She leaned forward, "It's you."

"It's me," the girl said. She was sobbing, but smiling the kind of smile that said her heart was breaking, but she wanted to put on a brave face.

She reached for the girl's face in curiosity, tracing her fingers along her blonde hairline, down her cheek to her shoulder. The sweet smell in the air came from her and her skin was soft and warm. The girl didn't flinch but when the girl tried to reach back, she cowered away.

The girl was a trick, a cruel trick. She had to be. The Girl with the Rainbow Nails was an anomaly, representing everything that didn't exist or belong here. This was a sick new way to torture her. It was the only thing that made sense.

"It's OK, I'm not going to hurt you," the girl promised, holding her hands out in the most non-threatening way possible.

She wanted to believe her.

She wanted to believe her so badly.

So she wept.

She wept and gave in. She crawled to her, wrapping her arms around her waist, burying her face in the bright pink wool of her sweater in the crook of her elbow, curling onto her lap, clutching her tightly for dear life.

The girl wept too, gently stroking the black tangles of her hair with her fingers.

The girl might be a trick, but she wanted to bask in her loving rays of light for as long as possible before it was inevitably and cruelly taken away from her.

"D-do you know me?" she asked, hungry for something else to hold onto. She pulled away to stare into the girl's blue eyes. 

"Yes, of course," the girl replied.

"Wh-who am I?" she stammered, her raspy voice breaking. "What's m-m-my name?"

The question seemed to break the girl's heart but she collected herself and put on her brave face and replied, "You're Wednesday Addams. You're my best friend and the strongest person I know."

The name brought no recognition. And the description…that didn't seem right. That had to be a mistake.

"I…I don't know her…" she whimpered.

"She's you," the girl said.

"And you…? Are you a trick? A vision?"

"No. I'm real," she gently cupped her hands on her cheeks and brushed her matted hair back, wiping off some of the blood and dirt from her face. "I'm real and I'm here. I've got you."

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Enid. Don't you remember? I'm your best friend."

"Enid," she whispered, the name sounding foreign yet familiar. "I d-don't have friends."

"Yes, you do. Come on, let's get you out of here," she said,

"There's no way out," she lamented. "It doesn't stop…the torture…never stops…"

"No," Enid said, "we'll find a way. I'm going to help you." She leaned forward draped her arm over her shoulder and pulled her to her feet. But she was so weak, and the extended break drained her of any remaining energy she had left. She faltered, nearly collapsing back down to the cold hard ground, but Enid reached under her knees and scooped her into her arms as though she weighed nothing.

She leaned her head against the girl's shoulder, taking in her sweet honey scent and comforting warmth.

She may not be real, she may be a trick, but at least for this moment, she could feel something new besides pain, fear, and loneliness. She had a vague sense that her past self would've rejected her touch, her comfort, her affection completely. Maybe that version of herself knew better than to indulge in something so fleeting. The girl she used to be probably understood that it was going to hurt so much more when all this was inevitably taken away from her. But in that moment, she didn't care.

"I've got you, Wednesday, just hold on," Enid soothed gently as she looked around, trying to find a way out, using the forgotten name that she was no longer worthy of.

She noticed that the fog and smoke and darkness seemed repulsed by her, giving her a wide berth making the path surrounding Enid's feet oddly clear. But she could sense that The Dark Thing That Lurked in the Shadows was near, trying to get close, looking for its way in, plotting its attack and she clutched Enid tighter, apprehensive about the inevitable.

"There's no w-way out," she said.

"Yes, there is," Enid said firmly, "we're getting you out."

"We?"

"Me and your family. You just have to hold on, Wednesday, OK? Can you do that?"

Before she could answer, or ask what she meant by 'family', The Dark Thing That Lurked in the Shadows suddenly reached its black tendrils out and violently tore them apart and they both flew in opposite directions. She landed hard, dazed and winded as the black shadows morphed and wrapped around her wrists, her legs, her waist, her neck, and pulled her away. Meanwhile, Enid, who seemed to create her own faint light, ran to her, reaching out her hand to grab hers.

Enid grabbed her hand tightly, fighting to hold on and pull her to safety. She held on tightly too, even though she felt like she might be torn in half as she was being pulled in opposite directions.

"Keep fighting, Wednesday!" Enid cried as her grip slipped and she was holding on by the tips of her fingers, "Hold on, please! Don't give up!" Suddenly a powerful force seemed to banish her away and Enid disappeared just as the darkness enveloped her completely, swallowing her whole, dragging her away, screaming, into the endless blackness.

~~W~F~A~~

Enid woke up with a startled gasp, jackknifing into a sitting position, hyperventilating and struggling to catch her breath. She broke into silent sobs as she dizzily tried to make sense of her surroundings. A moment ago, she was in a dark, twisted place that would make her nightmares run and hide but now her surroundings were bright and jarring.

By the time Morticia was at her side, Enid recognized that she was lying in a hospital bed, but she wasn't the patient, Wednesday was. She stared across the room at her unconscious roommate, hardly noticing Wednesday's mother grasping her shoulders, soothing her.

"Wednesday," she breathed, her voice breaking from terror and grief.

"Enid," Morticia said, her words finally reaching her ears, "shh, shh, you were having a bad dream."

Enid was too hyper-focused on Wednesday at the other side of the room and she slid out of the bed, faltering clumsily with dizziness as she made her way towards her. Morticia followed close, keeping her steady. She nearly collapsed in the chair next to her and took her right hand, giving her still face a quick glance before she looked at the machines, confirming that she was still alive.

As she shakily breathed in relief, Morticia sat in the other chair next to hers, resting her hand on Enid's shoulder.

"She's still alive," Enid all but sobbed, pressing her fingers to Wednesday's wrist to feel her rapid pulse for herself, "she's still here…"

"Yes," Morticia said, "it was just a dream. Whatever you saw, it was just a dream."

Enid nodded quickly, regretting how the motion exacerbated the pounding headache that seemed to press against the back of her eyes, but she was too overwhelmed to speak, still trying to gather her thoughts and catch her breath. She had many nightmares before, and recently she'd had them every time she did manage to doze off, but she never in her life woke up from a nightmare like this, in a full-blown panic, almost delirious from terror.

When she caught her breath enough to say something she choked out, "It felt so real…" She wiped the tears from her eyes, almost unaware of Morticia soothingly rubbing her back.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Morticia asked, once Enid calmed enough that her breathing had evened out.

Enid glanced at her, mulling it over. She didn't want to relive it, and even though it had seemed as real as the hospital room they were sitting in, the memory was already starting to fade. Enid almost would rather she forget, but she said, "I…I dreamt I was in the woods. I was l-looking for Wednesday…" As she spoke it was getting harder to remember and make sense of it, so she continued, trying to piece it together.

"When I found her…she…she seemed lost. She didn't know who I was or even who she was…" Enid looked at her hands, at the rainbow-coloured polish on her long nails. While she was quickly forgetting the nightmare, her memory of dream-Wednesday taking her hand was oddly vivid, she could still almost feel her grip.

"She was hurt, and scared and so alone…" Enid sniffed, "and I…I…" she couldn't remember what exactly happened next, just that Wednesday had been oddly fixated on Enid's colourfully polished nails. "There was…there was this thing…" she said, her breath quickening. "It... it threw me aside and took her…but it didn't take her it…it was like it was made out of pure darkness and it wrapped around her like chains and pulled her down, and this dark...creature, entity, mass, I don't know what it was, it seemed to open up and…it was like it consumed her and I tried…I tried to reach her, I took her hand but she slipped from my grip and…she was screaming—I've never heard her scream before—and then she was gone. Just…gone."

"This thing," Morticia said, "what can you tell me about it?" Her question seemed almost urgent like it was somehow important.

Enid glanced up at her, "I'm sorry. I… it was so vivid, it felt so real but now…I…I can barely remember it…"

"That's all right," she said, but she seemed disappointed, "perhaps a nightmare so terrible is best forgotten."

"Reality is terrifying enough right now," Enid said, turning her attention back to Wednesday, overwhelmed with a strange feeling at the pit of her stomach, one of fear and despair. The dream, though it was mostly forgotten also gave her a sense of déjà vu, like she had a similar dream before. She squeezed Wednesday's hand, hoping, praying that she could feel that she was there and know that she was not fighting this battle alone.

"Yes," Morticia agreed.

"How is she? Did that stuff you made help?" Enid asked.

Morticia sighed, "Too soon to tell. It hasn't been very long – almost an hour. Until I can find out what kind of curse is plaguing Wednesday, all we can do right now is wait. But look," she pointed to one of the monitors, "her fever has gone down slightly. That's a good sign."

"It's still really high."

"But it's an improvement, and I think we should take what we can get," Morticia said. "And the fact that there has been some change for the better, however small, tells me that the poultice is helping. I had cast a spell to try and enhance its power, but since I don't know what kind of curse we're dealing with, I don't believe that has been as effective as I had hoped, but it is helping. I believe that. But only time will tell."

"How are we going to find out the kind of curse it is?" Enid asked.

"When Gomez returns with the arrow and the staff, one or both of them should hopefully give me a vision that will show me what happened and I should be able to see what kind of spell Crackstone used to cast the curse," she explained.

"And if you don't have a vision?"

"I will."

"Wednesday said she didn't always get visions."

"That's right. They can be unpredictable that way," Morticia said.

"So, what happens if you don't have a vision?"

"There are ways to make it happen."

"Mr. Addams said it's dangerous to force a vision. Is that true?"

She hesitated, "Yes. It can be risky. There can be side effects, but the more serious ones are rare – especially for Doves like me. Nothing to worry about."

"But Mr. Addams is worried."

"Of course, he is," Morticia said, "our child has been cursed, she's dying. Not a lot scares us, but this does. And we're already on edge so of course he would be worried about the thought of losing me as well, but that won't happen."

"What does it mean, being a Dove?" Enid asked, curious, but also hoping for a distraction.

"It's the type of psychic I am. There are many types, a Dove is a type of clairvoyant."

"And you said Wednesday is…a Raven, right?"

"Yes. Also, a clairvoyant."

"What's the difference?"

"My type of visions are usually more positive. That's when they're at their most vivid and powerful, and we can feel certain energies, again it's stronger when it's positive. It's much harder for us to sense dark, negative energies."

"And Ravens?"

"Those are extremely rare and far more powerful. Their visions come through with much more clarity and accuracy than any other type of psychic but they tend to be dark and foreboding. They can be useful, and many psychics wish for that kind of power, but they don't understand that the life of a Raven can be a hard one," Morticia said. "If I had my way, Wednesday would've been anything else but a Raven, it's not something I would wish upon anyone."

"Why?" Enid asked, though she had a good guess based on how incapacitating her visions were.

Morticia sighed sadly, "Their visions are violent, hard to control and they are far more prone to madness and isolation. The few Ravens I've heard of all lived lonely lives. All that darkness makes it hard for them to trust people because they are far more attuned to the dark side of humanity than the good."

Enid glanced at Wednesday's face, a flash of memory from her most recent nightmare had her shiver as she felt the echoes of the all-encompassing loneliness of that place.

"But I can't change who she is, I can only support and love her no matter what and do what I can to protect and prepare her from the heavy challenges Ravens face," she sighed, reaching for her, but pulling back before she could touch Wednesday. She discreetly wiped away a tear from her eye before turning to Enid, "That's why we are so glad that Wednesday has you in her life. As much as Wednesday loves her solitude, and I understand and respect that, it's not healthy to live such a lonely existence. I don't wish that for her. So, I think you are exactly the person she needs. And your unwavering loyalty to her is…I don't know what she—what we would do without you."

Suddenly feeling like she could never truly measure up to Morticia's praise, Enid said with an awkward chuckle, "No pressure, right?"

"Oh Enid, I don't mean it like that. By virtue of simply being your sweet, loyal, wonderful self, you have done so much. You've saved Wednesday's life – more than once, and if…when she gets through this, I think you'll be her beacon when the darkness becomes too much even for her. Simply by being you."

"Um, thank you, Mrs. Addams," Enid said.

"Please, no need for formalities my dear, call me Morticia," she said with a warm smile that didn't reach her eyes as she focused her attention on Wednesday. "When this ordeal is over and Wednesday is well again, we would like to do something special for you, as a way to show our gratitude."

"If Wednesday gets better, that will be enough."

Morticia laid a gentle hand on Enid's shoulder, "Indeed. Still, you deserve far more than enough."

The sound of the door opening had Thing retreating to his hiding spot and Morticia glanced around the curtain as the rule-enforcing nurse from before entered, a frown on her face. "I know you said you didn't want anyone in here for an hour but time's up and I need to do my job, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Morticia said, stepping out of her way, and pulling Enid with her.

The nurse, Gina, according to her name tag, clearly didn't like them. But to her credit, she was different with Wednesday, treating her with compassion, dignity and care as she checked on her. She changed the IV bag, and checked her bandages, first on her hand and then her shoulder where she twirled on them, "What's this? What did you put on her shoulder?"

"A poultice to treat her infection," Morticia said as the sweet scent of the mixture filled the air, "and I would appreciate it if you left it alone. It needs time to work."

She scoffed, muttering under her breath, "You people…"

"Excuse me?"

"I know you spoiled rich outcasts think you know better and can do whatever the hell you want, but this is a hospital, not some place to practice whatever freaky mumbo-jumbo witchcraft you're doing," she said.

"I am helping my daughter," Morticia argued.

"And I am trying to help save your daughter's life," she responded, "and your, poultice or whatever is interfering with that…"

Morticia was clearly angry, though she kept her cool, "And I am glad that we are on the same page in that regard but you don't understand…"

"No, you don't understand, I am looking out for my patient and you are getting in the way acting like you own the place..."

"Well, technically we do," Morticia pointed out.

Gina narrowed her eyes, "So I've heard. But that doesn't give you the right to do whatever you want."

"She's dying and I'm going to do everything in my power to save her."

"Then let us do our job!" Gina snapped.

"We respect your ways and expertise," Morticia said, "so I would appreciate it if you would do the same for us. Surely, a healer who cares about the well-being of her patient such as yourself would be more open-minded..."

Gina scoffed. 

"My poultice is working, is it not?" Morticia stood her ground, coming across as confident and calm, but Enid could see in her eyes that her question was not so much a challenge, as it was a plea for reassurance and validation that her attempts to help Wednesday were successful.

Gina scowled at her and then went back to checking on Wednesday, looking over her chart and jotting down notes, "I'm going to arrange to get that stuffed washed off and…" she stopped, doing a double take, looking at the monitors and then back at Wednesday's chart. "Huh," she grunted in surprise.

"What is it?" Enid asked.

Gina was too focused on looking at the chart and back at the monitors to answer. She placed her hand gently on Wednesday's forehead before taking her wrist, manually checking her pulse. For all her rudeness and disdain for them, she treated Wednesday with the utmost care and gentleness.

"What's going on?" Morticia asked, "Is everything all right?"

"Her numbers are actually improving," Gina said. "We're going to have to do more tests, but throughout the day her vitals had shown a rapid and steady decline, but it appears that she's starting to turn around."

"The poultice is working…" Morticia turned to Enid, her eyes lighting up with relief.

"Or she's improving in spite of that," the nurse said, but she did look pleased. "I wouldn't be celebrating too soon though. She's not out of the woods yet, far from it, but there may still be hope for her."

Once she was out of the room Morticia and Enid hugged each other as Thing emerged from his hiding spot, resuming his place of vigil on Wednesday's uninjured shoulder.

"She's improving," Morticia smiled, "It's working."

"Do you think it will work enough that she can wake up?"

"I don't think the magic I used is strong enough, but it's too soon to tell," Morticia said, "and we can always hope. At least I feel like we can say that we succeeded in buying her time."

Enid turned back to Wednesday, taking her bandaged hand, lifting it to her cheek and closing her eyes, "You hear that? Keep fighting Wednesday, hold on. Don't give up."

~~W~F~A~~

Somehow, the sweet honey scent from the Girl with the Rainbow Nails – Enid, that was her name – she remembered! – remained, transferring to her and she quickly learned that The Dark Thing That Lurked in the Shadows did not like it. It was repulsed by it and while it retaliated against this change, she drew strength from it. She fought back, she freed herself from its grip just enough to give her the chance to run, and hide.  

And prepare.

Though the pain and torment seemed neverending, there was something new in this world besides anguish and despair. The all-encompassing loneliness and isolation were not as strong, and it no longer had the power over her it once did, and she now had something else to hold onto.

Enid.

She remembered her.

Enid.

And she was out there, looking for her. And she wasn't the only one. She alluded to others who were searching to bring her back as well. Her family? She had a family?

And as dark, lonely and brutal as this place was, as battered and broken as her body was, her torn and hollowed-out soul was now filled with something she thought wasn't possible.

Though it was faint, she felt hope. She felt loved. She felt warm.

And she felt, for the first time in – how long had it been since she found herself lost in this place? Days? Weeks? Years? – like maybe there was a way out.

That thought made her feel emboldened to keep fighting. Not just in self-defense, this time she was going to be ready.  This time she was determined  to strike first.

Even though she was so weak that she'd probably lose, she wasn't going to give up. If she went down, she would go down fighting.

She wanted to think that this new resolve would've made Wednesday Addams – the girl she used to be – proud.