Raven - First draft. Check the new book.

Deception

Trigger warning : Graphic depictions of violence and blood, homosexuals 😈, panic attacks + descriptions, major plot character death (with defibrillators to revive 🤭).

"Astrid Laurier's" pov : 

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── 🥀 ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Court mandated Report 01

Student name : Wednesday Addams

Guardian(s) : Morticia and Gomez Addams.

Learning difficulties / disabilities / illnesses : As seen from her psych exam, Wednesday has High Functioning Autism, depression, PTSD, Anxiety, BPD and a few other pending diagnosis.

Improvements : 

          Miss Addams has been adjusting to Nevermore very slowly. Her attempts at socializing with others have grown just from her roommate, Enid Sinclair, to other peers, such as Xavier Thorpe, Yoko Tanaka, Divina Prendergast, and Bianca Barclay.

Areas of concern : 

     She is still as prone to incident as last semester. Something is peculiar, though. Addams claimed to have been assaulted by Xavier Thorpe, but as soon as the weapon was tracked down, the fingerprints did not match his. Considering what I was able to do last semester in order to keep our reputation at its peak, I will be assuming that it is a shapeshifter. She was in fact wounded, but it was taken care of accordingly. She displays traits of neurodivergencies, those of which I will not list again by name. 

       I set the pen down, rubbing my temples. I don't have the mental capacity to deal with Wednesday Addams. She's nothing like her father. Or her mother. They're both lovely individuals, I have very fond memories of them. But her? She's darkness incarnate.

      Wednesday Addams' pov :

      'I can't breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.. BREATHE.'

     My world was crashing down around me. Every noise, every sound, all just deepening my already intense panic. 'Overload. Overload. Overload. Too much noise. It's too loud. Where is Enid? Why isn't she back? Did she have a club today?'

     I clutch my legs to my chest, rocking back and forth, covering my ears. Loud. So loud. 

     This bathroom doesn't help my current state. It's horrible. My urges are coming back. 'Right there. That's where it happened. Right where I almost took my own life. Oh no. Loud. Why must I be like this? Why am I not normal? Why am I so messed up? Why do I have to be so fucked up in the head? Why am I so dark? Why do I want to hurt people? Why do I take joy in suffering? Because it's fun. No. Yes.'

     I squeeze my eyes shut. 

     'No. Fermare. Non riesco a immaginare Enid... Che torna. Ho bisogno di te.' 

     'Why must I be alone?' 

     My hands tremble, my breathing erratic and shallow. I can't feel anything, it's all too loud. Writing. That's what I need. Writing. That always helps.

     I get up, shakily opening the bathroom door, and stepping out. It's so loud. 

     I settle at my writing desk, readying my typewriter. An immediate calm envelops me, my hands gliding over the keys.