chapter xi.

i cannot love everybody

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐘 since your last encounter in the closet. You expected to feel more at peace now that you had made a pact with her, but you still felt uneasy.

There hasn't been a crack in your name yet, and everything continued as normal, so your feelings confused you.

Wednesday's presence has shifted the school's air significantly. She was a fragment of your past that somehow found its way through the border of your new one.

But that wasn't it. There was something more. Leading up to Wednesday's supposed escape, it clouded your every thought.

The last time you saw her was the day she made herself known to the whole school. Particularly Bianca, who had dragged you by your arm to the hall that afternoon.

"You know how much I hate fencing! The costumes and the swords and all the weird grunting."

This gained a cackle from her. "The grunting? Oh please, it is not that bad."

You continued to protest as Bianca swung open the doors. Her eyes landed on a small, scruffy boy with crooked spectacles. He shrunk into himself as her freezing eyes shot icicles at him.

"Stop intimidating him." You whacked her arm. "Go... challenge him or something."

Bianca cringed humorously at your choice of words. You really didn't care for the sport.

"Rowan." The siren's cool voice sparked the boy like an electric shock. From your spot by the wall, you could see his eyes flicker with embarrassment.

You always thought him to be a lot like you; an outcast in a group of outcasts. He was more obvious about it though.

"Let's duel."

Perhaps that's what always intrigued you about him. There was something about him that was always telling you to look a little closer.

Only a few minutes later, He fell to the ground with a heavy thump as Biancas sword pointed at his mask.

Maybe you didn't have to look that close.

"Coach, she... she tripped me."

The man dressed in white crossed his arms. "It was a clean strike, Rowan." He sighed.

"Maybe if you whined less and practiced a little more, you wouldn't suck." The accused took off her helmet, revealing her bored expression.

"When's she going to get some real competition?!" You called out from across the room, caused Bianca to direct her hand at you in agreement.

"Exactly!" She huffed as Rowan heaved himself from the floor. "Anyone else wanna challenge me?"

That's when you noticed the dark figure standing right behind her.

"I do." It spoke.

Bianca turned around to look at Wednesday, who's black uniform disrupted the sea of white gear that adorned all the other students.

That was besides you, currently trying to make yourself as invisible to Wednesday as possible.

Currently she was facing the Queen of Nevermore who stood with a smug stance.

"Ooh, you must be the psychopath they let in!"

"And you must be the appointed Queen Bee." Bianca shook her head as if humbly accepting a compliment.

"Interesting thing about bees, pull out their stingers and they drop dead."

Her face dropped, but she quickly dismissed her comment.

"Rowan doesn't need you to come to his defence."

Wednesday didn't back down. "Are we doing this or not?"

Her head tilted in an expression that you knew signalled the start of the duel.

The two girls braced themselves. Their swords soon collided with a clang. You weren't sure if you should stay or leave.

It wasn't until two matches had been played that you made up your mind.

"The score is even."

Both players took off their masks. It was only then did Wednesday fully look at you, observing your discomfort.

"No masks. No tips." Wednesday offered. "Winner draws first blood."

The statement shook you, and you weren't even the one challenging her.

Her words dripped with classic Wednesday mentality, it only reminded you of her current unwelcome presence in your life.

First she messed with you, now she messed with your friends.

"I'm leaving..." You muttered to yourself.

"Let's finish this." Bianca declared, just as you fled from the scene.

You could hear the crashing of blades begin as you strided across the hall as quickly as possible.

The fight slowly grew. Other fencers stopped to watch. Wednesday's boots clattered with the ground has she dodged Bianca's strikes.

They pushed each other far enough to the point that they were travelling off the designated area.

A loud slam of the wooden doors sounded through the room as you left. The girl dressed in black still thrusted her sword's pointed edge closer to Bianca, but the noise distracted her.

She looked away for a split second to the wall you were standing against. She couldn't help but frown slightly when she noticed you had disappeared.

Next thing she knew, a cold, sharp pressure dashed above her eyebrow. A piece of her hair became sticky with blood. She felt the wound with confusion.

Bianca smirked with pride at her winning mark left on the girls forehead.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 with frames and plants and anything to increase the tranquil environment of Dr. Valerie Kinbott's office.

It was a crisp Saturday morning outside, the windows somewhat frosting at the edges.

Jericho was a fairly harmless town, compared to Nevermore it was rather mundane. Wednesday had screwed her nose up at the pretty little gazebos that scattered the town on her way in.

The tissues located on the right side of the room showed Wednesday to her seat.

She grimaced as she hesitantly sat on the edge, knowing many before her would've infected it with their snot and tears and pathetic sense of existentialism.

Dr. Kinbott's main goal with her adolescent clients is always forming a relationship based on trust and mutual respect.

"This is a safe space Wednesday, a sanctuary where you can discuss your views on the world, your personal philosophy-"

"That's easy." Wednesday cut in through gritting teeth. "I think that this is a waste of time. I see the world as a place that must be endured, and my personal philosophy is killed or be killed."

Wednesdays perspective often made people frown, but Dr. Kinbott's reaction remained

covered by her placid face.

She knew the girl wouldn't open up easily, she knew it the moment she had read her file.

"You assaulted a boy, and showed no remorse for your actions." Wednesday didn't like people making assumptions, but she was right.

She had done the world a favour by letting the Nancy Reagan student lose his testicle to a piranha.

She tried to stand up, but Kinbott is not as passive of a woman as people perceive her.

"We're not done yet." She spoke firmly. Wednesday lowered.

"I understand you've written three novels about a teen girl detective, Viper De La Muerte." A look of offense crossed Wednesday face. She didn't like people invading her thoughts.

Her mother had sent manuscripts. Another example of mistrust.

"I was intrigued by the relationship between Viper and her mother, Dominica. Why don't we dig into that?" She frowned at the offer.

"Part of this journey requires us to travel to uncomfortable places emotionally." Wednesday would not be doing any of that today.

A part of it was her knowing that telling Dr. Kinbott anything would be like releasing information to a spy.

The other was knowing she had better things to do.

Speaking of which, she didn't forget your tip.

"May I use the powder room?" Wednesday abruptly stood up again. Dr. Kinbott guided with her hand to a small door in the corner of the room.

"You can't hide in there forever!" She called out as soon as the door closed.

"I know! I'm just... preparing myself for our uncomfortable journey."

Wednesday bag zipped open and her handy friend passed her a sharp nail file. The window shifted once the stiff lock was opened with it, and Wednesday slipped out onto the side of the building.

Wednesday was never one to run away from uncomfortable situations. She wasn't a coward, she enjoyed a challenge. Yet she knows when lines are crossed and when people no longer become useful to you.

Principal Weems' was guarding the front of the building with her car, so Wednesday had to slip quietly down the water pipes.

Her cautious sprint across the road was stopped abruptly when a crate of apples crashed into her.

The sky suddenly became a rush of visions as her neck snapped upwards.

A farmer's tractor crushed, and his head became dislocated out of its place with a sickening crack.

His apples hit the sides of the vehicle, their skin breaking against the back of his head.

The vision sharply vanished into a swirl of colours.

When Wednesday returned, her eyes burning with the image, the same farmer was glaring at her. The sound of tumbling apples rolled around his feet.

"Freak."

His words were spat, a sound Wednesday was familiar with and heard in every public school she had ever attended.

Her visions had started to become more frequent and random these days, she never knew when one would hit.

She peered between the slats of the large wooden crates to read the curled writing on a shop window.

The Weathervane Cafe.

Remembering her objective, and the fact she was standing in the middle of an open square with two people searching for her, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The cheery jingle of the door gave Wednesday a series of headaches.

Once they died down, they were replaced with the smell of burning, metallic aluminium and the sound of sputtering liquid.

Behind the counter stood a boy with caramel hair, who tried to wrestle the coffee machine into smoothness. Wednesday could assume by the way he haphazardly punched the buttons that he was the person she was looking for.

She wanted to test her theory first.

The barista looked up in shock at her sudden appearance from the clouds of steam.

"Ah, so you're Nevermore." He assumed, looking her up and down. "Didn't realise they changed the uniform."

"I need a quad over ice."

He squinted in confusion and mild annoyance. Couldn't she see he was a little busy?

The dark haired girl internally sighed at his supposed incompetence.

"It's four shots of espresso."

"Yeah, I know what a quad is, but..." He gestured to the faltering metal. "Spoiler alert, the machine's having a seizure. All we have is drip."

The man who was slowly dribbling coffee into his cup was glanced at by the two.

"But drip is for people who hate themselves and know their life has no real purpose or meaning." This caused him to put down the jug a slouch away dejectedly.

The barista sighed at the manuel. "It doesn't help that the instructions are in Italian."

The native tongue of Machiavelli.

Wednesday snatched the book and scanned the pages.

"Here's the deal." She glanced up.

"I'm going to fix your coffee machine. Then, you are going to make me my coffee and drive me to a train station."

Wednesday started to poke around the machine's valve with a screwdriver. The sputtering ceased and the steam cleared.

"Wow, thanks. Never meant a Nevermore kid who got their hands dirty." He placed the lid back on top.

"I'm Tyler, by the way. I didn't catch your name?"

She hesitated. "Wednesday."

Tyler smiled. "I, uh- How did you know I'd drive you?"

"I heard you have a car."

"From wh- You know what? Doesn't matter. I don't get off in another hour."

Wednesday pulled out a bill. Tyler tittered. "Wow! 20 whole dollars."

"I'll make it 40."

"Uh, fun fact, I can't be bought. So... either wait or get someone else to drive you."

Wednesday sighed as she walked off. This would be a lot harder than she thought.

(un-edited chapter)