Larissa Weems is currently at her office typing out documents on her laptop. The crackle of the fireplace blending with the keyboard click could hypnotize anyone but her mind remains focus. She had concluded, after careful considerations from her observation of Adam last night that he, under her supervision, will attend Nevermore as a student. His personal documents would be listed as an Outcast orphan, left behind by his biological parents at birth.
No questions asked, she has… connections in the higher-ups. A few calls would do the rest. Adam, to her observations is… peculiar. He has the meager knowledge of a child built in his adult-like body. He knows, but not particular things. Especially in the realm of emotions and feelings. He's basically an open canvas to be painted on, easily influenced by the colors of his surroundings.
So she decided that he will learn, here at Nevermore. She knows how he'll be treated outside. With his looks - the scars, how every part of his body seems like stitchings from another - he'll be a monster to them. He'd be orchestrated, turned away, or worse, killed. At least here, he'll just be another Outcast, albeit freakier than others. His face would be hidden in the meantime, some things are better left veiled than explained.
'Prove me right, Adam.' She thought, hoping for her guts to be right. 'Prove you're not that monster.' Just because she chose to kept Rowan's death a mystery does not mean she doesn't believe Wednesday's report. A monster is out there and Rowan isn't its only victim. Hikers, residents, it's racking up murders reaching double digits. A bear? Who would believe a bear would do that. Despite the danger, she believes it's not him. His innocent eyes, gentle disposition, and his curiosity towards the world - her guts tells her no.
Later, she will teach him how to read, to recognize words. Speaking alone will not suffice. Under her care, he will learn to understand literature. It will, in her thoughts, satisfy his innate curiosity to know. The books would serve as his teachers, his molders.
She stopped typing, closing her laptop and rotating her office chair to face the window behind her. Now, it's time to address the elephant in the room. 'What is he?' Weems asked herself. Earlier, she scoured every Outcast books, every journal she could find to get a glimpse of his origins. Just a mere mention of someone like him existing. None, nada. The closest she could find were ghouls, but those creatures are mindless. Often artificially made, to which they'd be called "zombies" by then. His consciousness and intelligence separates him from those creatures. He also doesn't have those 'milky-eyes' they have.
Those Outcast record books and journals proved useless. But another book… another book had some useful information. The first thing she thought of, in fact. Weems shook her head, impossible. That work is fiction, born from the mind of a certain 'gothic' girl in London - Frankenstein; or the Modern Prometheus. The prospect of it being real is terrifying, a man that played God and succeeded. No way. No.
Reality, however, often defies the impossible. It's right in front of her, the result itself. An uncanny similarity to the creature in the book. A charnel of flesh moulded together to form a 'man.' A morbid recreation of God's engineering. Even their nature is the same. Weems clutched her forehead in disbelief.
The repercussion of the idea is something she doesn't even want to entertain. If it's true, then it's not just fiction. YOU could play God. A question hang in the air, if Adam is the creature - then who's Frankenstein?
—-
Adam woke up from his slumber. His amber eyes illuminated by the sun-rays through the window. 'Warm. What is that?' He asked himself, covering his eyes as he stood up, the blanket falling off of his scarred body, only his bottom is covered by a long pants. He walked to the window, turning the old curtains to the side, bathing his body with the warm light of the sun. He closed his eyes once more, opening his arms wide as he basked in it.
'Is this… life?' He asked, lost in the warmth. The sun and the cold air of September created a beautiful contrast, an indescribable feeling of liberation to his body. The bandages from yesterday still wrapped around his body, the strands fluttering with the wind. The doorknob clicked, interrupting his sun-bathing. He turned around to see Larissa entering the room.
Without waiting for her to speak, "What is that?" He asked, pointing to the light in the sky. Larissa was taken aback, but immediately answered, "The sun. That's called the sun." She said. "Sun…" Adam muttered, turning back to look at it, "Is it life?" He asked again. "You could say that." Larissa replied, putting her bag down to a table nearby.
She had just gotten back from escorting Wednesday to her therapy session. The girl kept quiet, too quiet. Still reeling from the shock of Rowan being alive, much to Larissa's pleasure. No one could know, it would jeopardize the school's integrity. She's already talked with Rowan's father, the man agreed to kept quiet of his own son's death. In his own words, he described his son as "unstable", that it's for the best.
Covering up a student's death is distasteful, even for her, but it must be done. Nevermore is a cornerstone of the Outcast society, losing it would be like losing a limb.
Enough of that, she came here for other things. "Adam, come here." She said, taking the man out of his sun-bathing session. She pointed at a chair, "Sit." From her bag, she brought out flashcards, each one with a letter written on them. The alphabet. "I'll be teaching you how to read and write."
Adam took a seat, watching as Larissa laid out her teaching materials to the table. Flashcards, pens, boards, books, he wonders how all of that could fit in her bag. "And when you can do both, you will attend Nevermore as a student." She said, finishing her set-up. Adam nodded, to which Larissa smiled to. "Let's start then."
For hours, she patiently thought Adam to read and write. They started with the alphabet, going through each one. She taught him each vowel, each consonant until everything is engraved in his mind like carving on stone. Afterwards, they moved on to reading whole words, simple ones - apple, banana, cat - trying to feel out his proficiency in reading. Then they moved to phrases - good morning, good afternoon, good evening - the lesson getting complicated as they proceed. Then whole paragraphs. He absorbed everything with uncanny precision. By the first hour, he could deconstruct words and their meanings, digesting it to his vocabulary.
She made him read out whole chapters of books she brought, some poems, classical books she's very fond of. Jane Austen, Lord Byron, Shakespeare, Dante - giving him a glimpse of a whole new world behind simple words and paper. She could see the fascination in his eyes as he read, the joy of learning, the revelation in knowledge. He knows before, now he understands.
"Abandon all hope, you who enter here." Adam said, reading a line off Dante's Divine Comedy, "What is this word? What is 'hope'?" He asked, tilting his head as he looks at Larissa. "Close your eyes." She said, Adam followed her instruction, "Hope… imagine yourself in darkness, an abyss of nothing." She paused, her voice getting deeper, "Then imagine light emerging at the end." Her voice guided him to another world, to his 'imagination.'
"What do you feel when you see that light?" She asked. Adam felt… something. That same feeling from before, when wandered that space. When he was nothing. He touched his chest, something swells inside, "I don't know…" he answered as he opened his eyes. Larissa smiled, "That is hope."
As she spoke, something inside Adam lit up, a spark from the words of the woman in front of him. "Hope… I understand." He muttered, putting the book down. "Let us read another." He said, moving on.
As he read, Larissa also made him write. Annotating the books with his own ideas, allowing him to express his feelings and opinions when he wants. He was shaky at first, the familiar feeling coming back again when he held a pen. He wrote his name, the lines looking almost like scribbles. Larissa taught him the proper way to hold it, and slowly, he became more steady.
Proficiency is created through practice. He tried to copy the prints of the books, his writing becoming better and better the more he practices. Without noticing it, 4 hours passed by. Larissa looked at her watch, seeing the amount of time that passed by. 'This is enough.' She thought.
"Adam," she called out, interrupting his writing. He looked at her, expecting another lesson, "I believe your skills are adequate. You've certainly surprised me with your intelligence. Our lesson is done." She said, gathering the scattered materials and putting it back to her bag. Adam helped her, surprising Larissa even more. "Thank you." She said with a smile, "I'll be leaving these books with you. I want you to read them, write in them as much as you want. Then tell me what you feel. Is that alright?"
Adam looked at the stacks of books. Fiction, philosophy, history - books that they tackled, but not in-depth. She let him read bits of them and it instantly fascinated him. A new feeling swelled again, 'I believe this is… excitement.' He thought. He looked at her, nodding, "I will." Larissa smiled as she stood up, walking to the door. When her hand were inches to the doorknob, Adam called out, "Larissa," she turned around, looking at him, then he smiled. "Thank you. You… are my friend." He said, his tone gentle and kind. Larissa was taken aback for a second, a nod followed when she recovered, "I am, Adam. I'm your friend."
—-
Wednesday's in a bad mood. She'd just been branded a lier, an attention-seeker. Rowan is alive, walking, talking with classmates. She's seen him get mauled, screamed in pain as the monster tear through his insides. Right after he tried to kill her over some prophecy his mother made. It's unfortunate that she passed out right after telling Bianca but her visions can take a lot out of her, coupled with the fact that she almost got crushed to death. It's not as fun as she thought it would be.
'I'd rather be branded a witch.' Wednesday thought as she walked through the halls of Nevermore, her backpack on her back. Her fingers twitch from time to time, subtle signs of her thinking, analyzing. 'I know what I saw.' She convinced herself, 'Hypothetical one: I'm going insane. Hypothetical two: it's a cover-up.'
Safe to say she's leaning on the latter more. At least Tyler believes her, she thought. But that idea was scrapped, it doesn't matter who believes her, it's not evidence. After a while, she managed to reach the front-yard, seeing her roommate Enid with her friends decorating their canoe.
'I need evidence. An investigation starts with a profile.' She walked to their direction, hearing the werewolf hyping up her friends as they paint. It's not working. "If Bianca Barclay wins again this year, I will literally scratch my own eyes out!" Enid exclaimed, talking with Yoko as she painted. "I would pay money to see that." Wednesday replied, prompting Enid to turn around.
"Hi, Roomie! I'm so glad you decided to stay!" She said as she hopped to Wednesday. "I thought you wanted your single room back." The gothic girl replied, her tone flat. "Full disclosure, I don't like living solo and Thing gives a killer neck massage. It's a win-win!" She said, as a matter-of-factly. She paused, tilting her head, "So, why the sudden change of heart?"
"I refuse to play the role of a pawn in someone else's corrupt game." She replied, her arms crossed as she scowled. "You mean Rowan?" Enid asked as she cringed. "I witnessed his murder, Enid." She replied, her tone defensive. "It's just… we all saw him this morning. Very much, like, not dead." Wednesday nodded, "I know. Which leads me to believe I've been losing my mind." She looked down, her gaze disappointed, "It's not nearly as fun as I had anticipated."
Her eyes lit up, remembering what she came here for. "You're Nevermore's gossip queen. What's Rowan's story?" Enid clicked her tongue, "Other than being a weird loner.. uh, no offense." She paused. "None taken." Wednesday replied. "Xavier Thorpe's his roommate. If you had a cell phone, you could just text him and ask him."
Wednesday mentally grimaced as Enid hyped her teammates again. This encounter proved to be useless. The topic changed to the upcoming Poe Cup, something Wednesday's never heard of. Enid explained the mechanics, how the race works, she invited the goth girl to come help. That, of course, did not pass.
Wednesday returned to her dorm room with nothing. Pacing away at her writing time, crumpling drafts because she's too distracted to write properly. Rowan's prophecy sits right beside her typewriter, constantly taking her attention off of her novel. She picked it up again, looking for details, any other clue that might help in solving this puzzle a 'dead' kid brought her, and that, she found. 'What's this? A watermark?' She thought. At the upper right corner was indeed a watermark, only visible when put against light.
'What could this be a symbol of? A book? A journal? No use thinking, I'd rather ask 'Rowan.'
She got up, changing to her uniform again before bolting to the principal's office. Without knocking, she slammed the door open surprising… no one. Principal Weems isn't here. Wednesday looked around, the medusa fireplace crackling as she analyzed the room. Slowly, she closed the door behind her, like some sort of trap would activate if she closed it too suddenly.
At Principal Weems' table is her laptop, along with some documents. "If someone wants to cover-up a student's death, it would undoubtedly be the principal." She muttered, putting her backpack down to let Thing out, "Go around the room. Find anything useful." The severed hand nodded in his own way. Wednesday approached the table, snatching the folder of documents.
School finance, maintenance, inventory - all useless. As she got to the last few pages, she saw something that caught her attention. Rowan's expulsion letter. "He's been expelled?" Wednesday asked, reading the letter, ""…This decision was reached due to repeated instances of behaviour that violate the Academy's Code of Conduct and present a continued risk to the safety and harmony of our community….""
She stayed silent, a conclusion reached her mind, "I'm not losing my mind. This is a cover-up." She put the paper down, scouring to the last few papers for other clues. The others proved useless, but once again, another one caught her eyes. An admission letter for a student named "Adam Cain."
"Adam Cain…" Wednesday muttered, trying to see if the name rings a bell. Nevermore may be home to foolish adolescents, but its integrity as a cornerstone of the Outcast society is without doubt. Being admitted mid-semester like her would take either immense wealth or status, or both - something her family has. This Cain doesn't ring a bell, unlike names like Thorpe and Petropolus. 'Suspicious.' She thought, especially since it's right after Rowan's death.
A knock interrupted her thoughts. From behind her, Thing signaled that someone's coming. Wednesday quickly rearranged the papers to how they were before. Trying to seem less… nosy as she actually is.
The door clicked, opening to reveal the tall stature of Principal Weems. Her gaze immediately met Wednesday's, the girl sitting straight at the chair in front of her table. She looked around, looking for anything… off. "Hello, Ms. Adams." She said, taking her coat off, "Might I ask what brought you here?" She sat down at her chair, leaning to Wednesday. An intimidation tactic that seems to work for everyone but this girl.
"I came to ask about Rowan. Where is he?" She asked calmly. Weems shook her head, "I'm afraid that won't be possible. He's been expelled." Wednesday feigned a surprise expression, "For what?" Weems opened her laptop, "Never you mind. He'll be in the first train this afternoon." She casted an accusatory glance at Wednesday, "What were you doing out in the woods with him in the first place?"
Weems shook her head, "That excuse might have placated the sheriff, but you can't fool me. You had a psychic vision, didn't you?" She began pointing out her observation, of how Wednesday knew the dead farmer's injury without even seeing it clearly. "Your mother started having visions around your age. They were notoriously unreliable and dangerous." Weems' face looked concerned, "I remember at first, she thought she might be losing her mind. Have you spoken to her about them?"
Wednesday stayed silent, like a deer caught in headlights. "Clearly the person withholding information here is you." Weems said with finality. "May I go now?" Wednesday replied, uncomfortable with being exposed like this. "Not until you've picked your extracurricular activity. We want our students to be well-rounded."
"I prefer to be sharp-edged." Wednesday retorted. Weems did not care, passing her a piece of paper with a list of clubs with available slots. She insist that Wednesday pick one by the end of the day. The goth girl reluctantly took it, either be watched or pick a stupid club - the latter is better. Just as she's about to leave, "Ms. Addams," Weems called out, "I know you looked." She said, her face turning serious.
Wednesday froze, caught once again, this day just couldn't get any worse. Weems smiled, strained, "Mr. Cain would officially start at Nevermore tomorrow. I hope you welcome him with… hospitality." Wednesday frowned before turning to leave, not looking back anymore.
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