Hey guys. I incorporated a lot of things from The Addams Family movies in this chapter, but other than that, not a lot to say here. Remember to review. Thanks and enjoy.
"Wednesday is full of woe. She is wane and delicate…sensitive and on the quiet side, she loves the family picnics and outings to the underground caverns…a solemn child, prim in dress and, on the whole, pretty lost…secretive and imaginative, poetic, seems underprivileged and given to occasional tantrums. She has six toes on one foot…emotionless on the outside, but inside, she is so sad…" – Mr. Charles Addams, the original creator of The Addams Family (on Wednesday Addams, the character Rachel is based on)
Chapter Two
When Rachel Ryan was a little girl, she cherished very few, very certain things – for one, her pet spider, Homer. He was a best friend to her, like a dog or a cat or a hamster is to a 'normal' little girl. Homer was a good, energetic, loving spider – Rachel got to watch him happily kill flies for as long she wanted, and she could have hours on end if her mother let her. Her childhood could be summed up into three categories, really – drawing, singing, and death. That was it. Rachel was always a talented artist – she'd watch Homer all day and illustrate what she saw to the T, the eyes of the spider on her paper glowing with the same ravenous animosity of Homer's. Singing, of course – her father was a performer still for most of the girl's childhood and, for a while, she wanted to be just like him. Sooner rather than later, a young Rachel Ryan realized that singing wasn't just something she did because her father did – she loved it in a fiery, fierce, competitive way that would eventually fuel her ambition to be the absolute best. And then, of course, death…
When Rachel was about five or six, she one day asked her mother:
"Mommy, do you think I'm not normal?"
"Why would you say that?" Her mother asked back to the small, little girl.
"Well…" Rachel studied her shoes. "It's just…at school, it's…for a while now…well, everyday really – "
"– What is it, Rachel?" Sue asked in honest concern.
"The girls always say I'm not normal."
"Define 'normal', sweetheart," was her mother's response.
Rachel said nothing.
"Exactly," Sue continued, putting her arms around her daughter. "Normal is relative, Rachel. What's normal for the spider is a calamity for the fly. Understand?"
Rachel nodded, but inside she still could not understand why she was so swiftly labeled 'not normal'.
"Homer?" She murmured to her spider as he wove in his web in the attic. "Do you think I'm…not normal?" Homer continued to weave in silence.
That day, something happened to little Rachel Ryan. She wasn't born so death-obsessed, so Byronic, so anger-filled as she is now – yes, that day something happened to little Rachel Ryan. On the attic floor, next to some of her scattered drawings of her beloved Homer, the girl found a Barbie doll she had forgotten to put away. Snap. It was so easy. All she had to do was yank, and Barbie's head came clean off. Then, with the help of her brother Kurt, Rachel dragged her toy box up to the attic. Snap. Snap. Two more headless Barbie's, just like that. Snap. Snap. It was so easy. Snap. Snap. Her parents of course were concerned, but it was her Grandmama that said:
"She's just expressing herself. You shouldn't discourage it, you should encourage it."
The next Christmas, under the tree Rachel found her first weapon of destruction – her crossbow. Wow, was her fist thought at seeing it, all wrapped up under the green pine needles. On it's highest automatic speed, it could shoot over two hundred arrows in a minute, and on manual, she could do all that herself. Wow. This made her stay alone even more, either in the attic practicing her aim or outside in some woods that were walking distance away from the family penthouse in New York City, shooting arrows at whatever unlucky animal would trot or fly by. Eventually, having small animals at her mercy was no longer enough for Rachel – she had to step it up somehow.
"Go sit in the chair, Kurt," she whispered to her brother one day as she cornered him in her attic. 'The chair' wasn't just a chair at all – no, it was an electric chair.
"Why?"
"We're going to play a game."
"A game?" Her brother asked, wide-eyed. "What game?"
"It's a new game," Rachel added, pushing her brother into the chair. It's called 'Is There A God?'."
That's when it became obsessive.
As Rachel grew older, her dark hair would never again be pulled away from her face in her once signature braids – now it forever draped down her pale face, her amber eyes now almost darker than they once were. Her lips were redder, her face was paler, and her teeth and nails were sharper. Or, at least, they all seemed that way. She spent most of her time up in the attic, for a period, always away from everyone but Homer. Members of the family other than Kurt, who could coax her downstairs just long enough to sing at the piano with him, would hardly ever see her. One summer, their parents sent the two Ryan siblings to a summer camp called Camp Ricci. It was in New York State, outside of the city, and nestled quietly in the woods by a huge lake. Miss Carolina, the camp leader talked to every kid and their present parent before giving them their t-shirt and cabin number; when it got to the Ryan children, Kurt was happy to talk it up while his sister was dead silent.
"Rachel's at that age when a girl has only one thing on her mind," her mother said.
"Boys?" The camp leader guessed. Rachel's answer, however, was:
"Homicide."
And while Kurt and some of his friends discovered paddle-boating and toad-catching that sunny summer by the lake, Rachel Ryan discovered something, too. His name was Lucas – Lucas Beineke – and he was her first kiss.
"Rachel?" He murmured one day. "Do you ever plan on falling in love?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because love requires happiness," she answered. "And happiness makes me miserable."
"Well…maybe, we could be miserable together."
Lucas Beineke was her first kiss. Lucas Beineke was her first victim.
And Finn Hudson was next.
Rachel and Kurt had been in school at McKinley for about two months now when a loud banging was heard up in the attic of their new house in Ohio.
"C'mon up here, Kurt!" Rachel yowled now, down to her brother. "I just finished unpacking the attic! Look what I found!"
"Oh, God – not the chair!" Her brother called.
"Yes – the chair! Get up here, we're going to play the game!"
"Not the game!" Kurt moaned as he clomped up the stairs and appeared in the attic.
"But the game is fun," his sister insisted.
"The game is creepy," he countered.
"Duh!"
"What's up with you?" Kurt retorted as he slumped down on an old couch, and not the chair as his sister had just wanted. "I thought you were un-depressed, what snapped you out of it?"
"I don't know," Rachel answered. "I just need to kill something!"
"Ooh so it's about a boy?" Her brother whistled. "Is it about Finn Hudson?"
"I could ask you the same thing about Blaine Anderson!"
"Ah, touché!" Kurt commented. "But really…don't turn this into a Lucas Beineke situation…you just got your homicide privliages back, do you want to loose them again?"
"It's just…ever since the first day, when we met him, I…I don't know. I feel like…like…"
"Like you like him?" He suggested.
"I don't know!" Rachel spat quickly. "It's not normal."
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