Chapter Text
Chapter 1. Can’t Run & Hyde
Wednesday
It was a fleeting moment. A flicker of interest within a monster’s eyes. The stench of possibility filtered into the room like a forgotten greenhouse filled with decaying marigolds. I’ve always enjoyed picking away crisp petals, playing a game of will I, won’t I. Almost as much as I enjoyed picking at Tyler Galpin’s brain and playing with his emotions just as he’d done to me. He needed a master, and I needed control. Not that I’d ever admit that out loud.
Before we were interrupted by another Hyde – his mother, as it turns out – I saw him debating a future where I held his leash and called the shots. Tyler had feelings for me, just as I did for him, a fact of which was unwelcomingly pointed out to me by my most recent spirit guide, Larissa Weems. Or, as I often called her, Principal Weems. Late Principal Weems, that is. Murdered via nightshade by Tyler’s last master. She noted my hatred and desire for Tyler. Even dared to mention love. Told me something I knew yet had been pushing down. Of course I was attracted to Tyler. Of course I’d fallen for a monster. He was, as he’d recently told me, another “blackhearted soul” just like me. I wasn’t exactly ready to “pillage the world with him”, but I was nonetheless fascinated by him. Open to what our world, should it merge together like melting metal and glass, would be like. Would the glass shatter or mold with the metal perfectly?
Tyler was physically weak. Desperate. Dying. I could see that as he stared me down in the moonlit mausoleum. There was intrigue mixed in with hatred while he debated his options. I remained cool and detached under his calculating gaze. Weems didn’t think I could be in control as Tyler’s master, referencing my hatred toward him as reason enough why our arrangement would fail. She didn’t account for my ability to flip a switch, to let bygones be bygones with the monster who nearly killed my best friend, Enid, and tossed me out of a window at the local mental health facility, Willow Hill. It wasn’t lost on me after I’d recovered from the resulting coma – when he sent me dead flowers, already knowing me better than most and fully aware I’d appreciate the romantic yet threatening gesture – that he was offering an opportunity. An invitation. He knew he was going to die without a master, but there I was, a willing ex-girlfriend with a penchant for disaster. I hated how well he knew me, yet I loved it all the same. I’d be disturbed by the fact that it all gave me moths stirring in my stomach, but that would require me to be the type who was easily disturbed by poetic misfortunes.
There he was, ready and willing to be mine, when his mother came crashing in. That growl he’d let out wasn’t alarm at her busting through the window of the mausoleum. It was agitation that we’d been interrupted at all. She knew it too: Her son was about to accept Wednesday Addams as his master. That’s why she pushed him out of the way before he could make that decision for himself. That’s why she wanted me dead. Fortunately for me, my mother had already made a deal with Francoise Galpin, one that included leaving our little town of Jericho forever with her son in tow.
Upon hearing the news of this deal, I was surprised when those moths became unsettled at the idea of never seeing Tyler again. It wasn’t so much that control was slipping between my cold fingers. It was more in knowing the only person who ever really saw me (yet still enjoyed everything about me rather than pulling away, being put off, or fearing me), was about to disappear. It was unfortunate that Tyler and I didn’t work out for that reason, but I didn’t come to Jericho or Nevermore looking for romance. I had no intention of having a passionate fling or a long-term relationship comprised of dead flower deliveries and school dances with anyone. …Unlike my mother, who’d met my father at the infamous outcast institution of Nevermore. Therefore, when things between Tyler and I ended, I wasn’t entirely disappointed. I was enraged at myself for not seeing his true self sooner when he’d figured me out almost instantaneously. How had I not realized sooner that the tragic boy working at Weathervane and crafting expert birthday lattes – an expertise of which I will never admit being aware of, either, especially since I’d lied in telling him he had subpar skills – was so much more than that. I’d also called him generic, both in looks and intellect. Another lie. Tyler was smart… smart enough to manipulate and trick Wednesday Addams. Hated him for that too. Hated that I loved the way he looked at me, how it made my skin hum more than the thrill of attending an execution.
Yet, despite hating him so much, and even wanting to kill him when I’d body-swapped with my werewolf BFF and had his throat within my clawed little hand, I didn’t. And when opportunity came again to decapitate him on the table in Iago Tower, I’d freed him instead. Then I did something that’s become a habit around him. When he tearfully looked at me with relief and confusion, asking me why I’d saved him, I lied and said I missed. I never miss.
Before I could chop him up like one of my old dolls, I realized a startling revelation: I loved Tyler Galpin. It’s irrational and reckless, but as my mother would say, so am I. I’d convinced myself our first meeting, and every meeting since, before I discovered his Hyde secret, was a gaslighting nightmare. A bunch of lies and manipulation strung together to make me fall for him only to deliver me to his deranged master. But in Iago Tower, I saw the same boy I’d fallen for looking back at me, begging me to kill him. Tyler Galpin loved me. I saw it when we danced at Nevermore’s Rave’N dance, and he actually appreciated the art of unconventional moves. When he gave me a birthday latte he’d worked on perfecting all week, the words “Happy Birthday” spelled out in the foam. He’d even ordered my birthday cake, knowing exactly what I’d want in taste and color when he selected a ninety-eight-percent chocolate ganache. And then he’d flat-out professed that love to me while he was behind bars at Willow Hill: “We’re two black-hearted souls ready to pillage the world together.” He was an expert liar just like me, but even he couldn’t fake his eyes practically twinkling when I was near. I’ve already tried convincing myself I just didn’t want to give Tyler what he wanted the night he begged me to please kill him. He’d even asked politely. Death seemed like letting him off the hook far too easily after everything he’d done, master controlling him or not. After all, he admitted he liked murdering innocent people, and my good friend, Eugene, had been another victim at the end of his claws. Part of me wanted him to pay for that. But the truth was, a bigger part of me couldn’t bear putting him down.
After his mother died and his uncle too (for good this time), Tyler disappeared, just like Enid. After transforming into a wolf under a full moon and digging me out of a grave Tyler’s zombie uncle had put me in, Enid was trapped in wolf form and unable to turn back. I recruited my own uncle, Fester, to search for Enid and save her. Wolves would be after her, and although I had a newfound confidence in her to kill them all easily if they tried to harm her, I couldn’t take a risk in being wrong. After all, I’ve been wrong before. I was wrong about my own feelings for Tyler. I was wrong several times about who the real Hyde was before having a psychic vision confirming it was him. I was wrong about Nevermore when I thought it’d be another torturous experiment forced upon me by my overbearing parents. Normally I enjoy a good torture, but school has never been on the wish list. I was wrong thinking I had it in me to kill Tyler.
To my dismay, I’ve officially been humbled. I never wanted to be anything like my mother, yet I’d fallen for someone. But because he was not someone she’d want me to bring home to a good roadkill dinner, I supposed I remained rebellious and was, as she wanted me to, still forging my own path. I used to believe falling in love meant I’d be that much closer to being someone who lacked ambition in doing anything more than being a housewife. I was wrong about my mother. I had no idea she had other ambitions, such as writing cringe romance novels that I had the undelightful kind of misfortune in skimming. She’s proven herself to be wise and intelligent in knowing exactly the predicament I’d end up getting myself into at Willow Hill and with Tyler. She warned me not to court him as a Hyde, but I didn’t listen. I still wonder how things would have turned out had Tyler accepted my offer to be his new master.
None of that matters anymore. I may never see her, my father, or my silly little brother again. I might never save Enid. Not since I accidentally wandered into some sort of Hyde territory while searching for my BFF and am currently surrounded by not one but two stray Hydes. Even the stitched-up appendage at my right platform boot, courtesy from Tyler’s late uncle’s wrist, is trembling. Thing is frozen in fear and about to die, and it’s all my fault. Uncle Fester’s motorcycle broke down miles ago, and he went to fetch another mode of transportation. Of course, I didn’t listen when he told me to stay put. When have I ever? And when will I learn?
I came here to save Enid, yet I’m the one in need of saving now. I might be great with a sword and can take down bully Normies with jujitsu moves, but defeating Hydes? Unlikely. I don’t stand a chance, and I’m smart enough, at least, to know that much. Being humbled as of late has resulted in me doubting my own abilities. Would it be so bad to proceed with caution? To know my limitations and accept them? Enid once told me I create chaos just to come in and make repairs, acting superior after the fact. She wasn’t wrong, was she? Apparently, more people know me that I ever wanted to. Being truly known exposes not only my character, but my flaws, which makes me vulnerable. It’s one reason I never wanted anyone to get too close. Yet I’d secretly wanted Tyler to, even when warning him to stay away. You know what else makes someone vulnerable? Wandering through the woods tracking your werewolf friend without backup.
“Thing,” I warn, taking a step back when the two Hydes hunch forward several yards away, prepared to launch themselves in our direction and undoubtedly shred us to pieces.
Thing backs up with me, but as a twig snaps under his pinky, the small sound has both Hydes snarling and headed our way.
With a betraying gasp that shows just how afraid I really am – a feeling I always hide in the face of danger or otherwise – I turn on my heel, grab Thing, and run the other way. Racing past trees on short legs won’t help me escape Hydes. Once I’m swiped across the back and sent flying toward a thick trunk, I already know I’m dead. My backpack might have taken most of the impact, but the tree coming quickly into view is gonna hurt. I can’t even stop the scream that comes up my throat, giving away my façade of not being terrified. What will my headstone say? Troublemaker Daughter? Insufficient Older Sister? What will the paper say? Ex-lover of Tyler Galpin, Hyde who tormented Jericho locals, poetically ripped apart by Hydes?
As anticipated, my front crashed into the trunk, cracking at least one rib and blackening my sight before I land on my left side in a fuzzy, lightheaded state. Snow falls around me. My fate is sealed while the Hydes continue to stalk my way. Thing jumps in front of me in a desperate attempt to protect me, but he’s only asking to be slaughtered too. I raise my bloodied hand to shield my face, revealing another unsettling truth about me: I don’t want to see death coming. Not this way. I’d once thought I’d revel in my own demise. Welcome it with a smile, even. But Wednesday Addams reaching an untimely death means she can’t save Enid. She can’t save Thing. Because she can’t even save herself.
A threatening growl from behind me has the two Hydes pausing in their pursuit. Backing away, even. Just when I think Enid has found me and scared them off, I turn with doubled vision to see another Hyde.
I’d recognize those defiant green eyes anywhere.
Did Tyler come to finish me off? Is he marking his territory? His right to be the one to, once and for all, put an end to Wednesday Addams? He’s been promising to kill me for a while now, but up until now, he’s been met with failure: First, Enid intervened in the woods before he could either crush me or slash me apart. His next attempt was at Willow Hill when he threw me through a window, and by some stroke of luck, I hadn’t broken my neck. Next, his uncle failed in burying me alive while Tyler stood there and watched as dirt sealed me in the grave. Some might say his uncle was responsible that time, but Tyler was an accomplice. Therefore, I suppose fourth time’s the charm. Doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as good, though.
A louder, much more threatening, growl leaves Tyler. The other Hydes retreat like dogs being scolded for misbehaving. If they had tails, they’d be tucked. Tyler’s officially staked his claim over my death. Made it his. A trophy. A reward. I’ve practically handed myself to him.
Congratulations, Tyler. You’ve won.
This time, I don’t look away from my own impending doom. I don’t cover my face or shy away from what’s coming. Tyler stalks closer, finally looking me in the eye now that his friends or foes, whoever they were to him, have gone. I showed him mercy when he was strapped to that table at Nevermore, about to be de-hyded thanks to his demented mother and mad scientist uncle. I sincerely doubt I’ll be shown the same.