𝙉𝙮𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙥𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙖- Wᴇᴅɴᴇꜱᴅᴀʏ Aᴅᴅᴀᴍꜱ

𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝

/𝖓𝖞𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖆/

☜ 𝘿𝙊𝙄𝙎𝙋𝙍𝙀𝙕𝙀𝘾𝙀 ☞

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Wednesday wasn't one to gamble her luck. Being stuck in a jail cell with her mother was not part of her dream list nor was the idea of having a cell next to her father.

The two had not let go of each-others arms the whole night. Even if there were large metal bars in their way, the two never let go.

Wednesday wanted to throw up.

"Addams!" A guard called, Wednesday's eyes widened and for the first minute of their arrival, her mother and Father departed from each other.

"Your lucky someone paid the bail." The guard said grabbing his keys and opening Morticia and Wednesday's cell.

Morticia raised a brow eyes darted towards her Daughter.

"Who'd you call?" Morticia questioned.

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐏

Sylvia couldn't quite point a finger as to why Wednesday had her hair rumpled and messy and her were hands covered in dirt.

Thought Sylvia would never say it a loud admitted, she internally admitted Wednesday looked like a dirty cow, a cute one.

Sylvia found it weird that she unexpectedly got a call from the police headquarters and apparently having to pay bail before they would send her and her mother to jail.

"Tomorrow we need to visit the Gates house." Wednesday proclaimed towards Sylvia in an ordering manner as she walked towards the bathroom.

Sylvia shrugged not taking any other words. She walked to the now-fixed glass pane in front of her, Sylvia had called several different contacts to get it fixes before Ms. Thornhill could find out.

Just like Wednesday had proclaimed the next day, the Wednesday girl had managed to drag Sylvia out of bed and into the large brown door of the Gates family house.

"I thought you were kidding." Sylvia moaned running her hands through her hair. Wednesday faced Sylvia handing her a flashlight but stopped midway when she remembered who she was with.

Sylvia chuckled with her fingers as she reached for the door, causing the door to swing open. Sylvia stepped first her heightened senses scoping the environment around them.

In front of them was a small foyer with twisting marble staircases. Spiderwebs clung to the sides of the railing, and the chandelier above them cracked swayed left and right in an uncomfortable manner.

"Guessing a triple homicide doesn't do well in resale value." Sylvia hummed her fingers sliding through the pictures of the dead family.

"Split up," Wednesday said before heading to the left side of the house. Sylvia sighed turning the opposite way, she walked through the kitchen.