Bal•ter
(v.) to dance artlessly, without particular grace or skill but usually with enjoyment.
In which Y/n Addams is adopted into a family of pure outcast, being an outcast herself.
What will she do when she ends up going to a school that her ado...
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Runaway Therapy
Opening the door you were presented with Wednesday laying on her bed with her arms crossed over her chest as if she were in a coffin. Her roommate Enid was very much present and instantly greeted you in a much more physical manner. Jumping out of her bed she hops towards you, her hands clasping right before you. "Hello Y/n." She then asks, "What brings you here today?"
You gave Enid a simple wave of acknowledgment before heading over to your sister that now sat upright, her eyes wide open now. You held out your schedule which she grabbed with no second thought. Getting off of her bed she held hers side by side, her eyes flickering from hers to yours in a matter of seconds. A deep frown settling on her lips the more she compared the two with one another.
She turned to you. "It looks like we only have one class together. Fifth period, Mrs Thornhill."
In truth you frowned upon hearing of this news, you only shared a singular period with your sister. It turned your stomach in a bunch of knots making you feel sick. Never have you ever been separated from Wednesday. The principal at every school had come to adapt to the both of you granting you to share classes with Wednesday and it had come to make you grow dependent on her. The feeling you felt was one you normally felt when being far away from your family, from Wednesday. The therapist calls it attachment issues and separation anxiety.
The therapist and Weems must be working together to plot your demise. Slowly trying to make your mind go mad and you practically killed yourself. Much like Ophelia Hall just for the opposite reason. Perhaps in the near future once you've taken your life they would name a dorm after you. Y/n Addams; girl who killed herself after going mad over separation from family.
✦➶ 𝕥𝓘мẸ ˢк𝐈𝐩 ➷✧
Therapy was something you've never wanted to get into. Not for the fear of talking about emotions or things like that. But it was because you've never had to speak of your problems, you just dealt with them in a way that you and your family understood. And once one of your family members found out they either allowed you to confide in them or sent someone to the hospital (Wednesday's doing.) Talking about any problems you were dealing with on an emotional level never was something you wanted to do with a complete stranger. You had your parents or grandmother to talk with. Not a licensed person with a degree of psychological behaviors.
Wednesday sat beside you as one of you awaited to be called to the office. She instantly proposed, "I need you to escape your session." Her eyes connected with yours.
Tilting your head. "May I ask why?"
"Simple, we're going to leave this heaven of a town." Heaven of the town. She had changed the saying a long time ago. Usually people would say, hell of a town. But not Wednesday, she loved anything that brought the cruelness of the world. If given the option after death she would pick Hell, wanting to be tortured for the rest of her time gave her a sense of fun. It was her version of fun. She searched through her bag pulling out a nail file and slipped it into your bag not even hearing what you had to say about this.
