𝟑𝟑. 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍. 𝟗𝟏𝟏 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑.you can't see them with me but they are everywhere i go and in everything i do. the love. the ache. the grief. i pour them into my morning coffee and steep them in my hot tea each night. i lather them into my wet hair and massage them into my skin. they are tucked deep in my pocket. they are hanging around my neck. you'll never see me without them and you'll never see them at all.
❝𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃, but he must exist, / he must exist so she can hold him accountable.❞
cable knits and cardigans, yesterday's curls and day four hair tossed into messy buns. a locket that never leaves her neck. one shoebox of polaroid photos spilling out beneath the bed, another full of hand written letters never sent. red string and color coded sticky notes. a thumbtack on standby between her teeth. the phantom breath of a whispered song and memories of a mouth pressed to her neck. still leaving the nightlight on, even though she's alone. candles burned to the bottoms of the jar. rusty chains on weathered porch swings. insomnia, when all she wants is to be dreaming. coffee overload to counter another sleepless night come morning.
nickname(s): mere, mj, merry / merry jane (upon pain of death glare)
age & birthday: thirty-three ; june 26, 1991
star sign: cancer sun, tbd moon, tbd rising
gender & pronouns: cisfemale ; she/her
sexuality: bisexual
birthplace: manhattan, new york city, new york
current residence: downtown area of briar ridge, south carolina
time in residence: > 1 week (as of 03/16/25)
occupation: emergency dispatcher
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.
characteristics: emotional, nurturing, intuitive, loyal, imaginative, moody / sensitive, demanding, possessive, tender, prone to overreaction, selfish tendencies, clingy attachments, careful, passive aggressive, easily brought to tears, loving and affectionate, home and family oriented
likes and motivations: candid photography, cooking with music playing low in the background, white wines, watching comfort tv / movies, oversized shirts and sweaters, gold jewelry, hot yoga, journaling, painting (albeit not that successfully), short road trips to new cities, word searches and puzzle games, anything that combines carbs and butter or carbs and cheese, pale dusty purple shades, clear sodas, minimal / bare nails, loungewear, podcasts in the car, head kisses, taco bowls, milk duds in hot popcorn, fuzzy socks // making her older brother proud, achieving the family stability she lacked as a child, getting to the bottom of things & proving she's not crazy
dislikes and fears: fish and seafood dishes, running sports, tight shoes, the smell of vodka, cold floors, dirty sinks, when anyone makes her play a guessing game, horror movies (she'll watch... from under a blanket... with her eyes closed), mushrooms, when somebody constantly complains about trivial problems, animal shelter commercials on late night tv (they make her cry), people being nosy and poking around in areas of her house she hasn't invited them into, grape popsicles, yelling, financial irresponsibility, being snuck up on from behind // never seeing her daughter again, never regaining her spark of life, a spider dropping on her head
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫.
face claim: melissa roxburgh
hair color: blonde
eye color: ice / baby blue
height: 5’4”
build: slender, athletic
signature scent: miss dior perfume ( notes of lily of the valley, centifolia rose, and soft musk )
tattoos: meredith has both her wedding anniversary with kol and gabby's birth date tattooed in a "00.00.00" format on the underside of her left wrist.
piercings: earlobes, actively worn. right nostril, unadorned.
scars: nothing prominent, but she does have several faint scars across the fingers and palm of her right hand from the time one of gabby's picture frames broke inside of a moving box. frantically trying to find and salvage the photograph itself, she grabbed a handful of glass pieces to toss aside without thinking.
Whether it was her mom, who abandoned the family when she was 13 after being caught embezzling money from work, her dad, who had to juggle multiple jobs to keep them afloat and was never quite the same after that, or her older brother, Alex, who had to become more parent than sibling to make up for it all, you could say Meredith's entire life has been a lesson in 'loss'.
None of those, however, come close to what happened six years ago.
In the span of a few seconds her daughter, Gabby, was gone—vanished, without a trace—and she's never quite recovered. On that note, neither did her marriage. Mere and Kol only made it another year before they broke, leading to divorce, and from that point on its like she's been living life in slow motion. Or without any motion, really.
Ever since Gabby's kidnapping she's been stuck in place, unable to move forward or let go of the certainty that, no matter what law enforcement says, her little girl is still out there, waiting. Leaving the city behind wasn't easy for Mere, but she's in Briar Ridge now in hopes of repairing her relationship with Alex... and wholly unprepared to face the fact that Kol's in town, too.
𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.
— neighbors downtown ; co-workers (anyone in law enforcement or who works within the sheriff's department) ; connections through her brother alex ; someone she's "gotten to know" because they're always calling the emergency like after setting their stove on fire, tripping down the stairs, getting stuck in their building elevator, etc. ; PIs who could be hired to look into Gabby's cold case ; that one neighbor who's always blasting music late into the night that tbh pisses mere off but then, one night, after she storms up stairs / across the hall to demand they turn it down whadda you know? they actually get along ; anyone who's lived in or traveled to either california or new york that she could've met prior to moving to town
Wes watched as she slid down to the floor, noting the way her shoulders tensed, the way her fingers pressed a little too tight around that crumpled receipt. She looked uneasy, and while he wasn’t exactly the comforting type, he knew what it was like to sit with nerves coiled so tight they threatened to snap. With a quiet sigh, he leaned against the wall beside her, then gave in and slid down too, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Lucky us, then," he mused, tilting his head up to the ceiling with a dry chuckle. "Didn't have much of a schedule to keep, anyway." On his freakin' day off, of all days.
Wes rolled the toothpick between his teeth, idly wondering if he could find a way to escape through the ceiling. Probably not a good idea. He tilted his head her way then, studying her for a beat, reading the tension still etched into her features. She didn’t look like she wanted to be here any more than he did. He considered her for a moment before adding, "So you're new to town, huh?" His voice was easy, casual, meant to draw her out of her own head. Though he wasn't much for small talk, he figured it was better than sheer silence. "Guessin’ you haven’t had the warmest welcome so far." A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it was more knowing than teasing. "Elevator entrapment's not exactly on the list of great first impressions."
Against her will, Meredith chuffed a quiet laugh. "Am I really that obvious?" Probably—but something told her it wasn't the northern accent that gave her away, or attire that screamed 'city slicker' far more than it did 'southern belle'. From what little she'd seen of Briar Ridge so far, it struck her as the type of town where everyone not only knew everyone, but also knew what each other had for breakfast before each plate hit the sink.
"But, uh, yeah. I just got here this week." It'd been a impulsive decision, and one she still wasn't confident of, but it was a little too late to second guess herself now. "I'm from Manhattan," and had, for a time, called California home, "but I have family here here. Woke up one day and decided to follow but..." That's when she laughed again, though this time the sound was once more devoid of much humor. "I'd be lying if I said the reality of living here is what I imagined when I pictured so-called southern charm."
Vaguely, she gestured around them. "The metal box situation isn't helping much, but to be honest it's been uphill from the start." There was her estrangement with her brother, Alex. The fact that her ex husband lived in town. Her current housing issue, obviously. "I'm almost convinced South Carolina wants to send me back."
Esra didn’t hesitate to try again, desperately clinging to a fragile thread of hope that this predicament wouldn’t unfold into something as dire as both of them feared. It felt like a mere hiccup, just a bump in the road, or perhaps a simple case of bad communication. After yet another unsuccessful attempt, she cast a glance back at her companion, who stood nearby, providing silent support as Esra reluctantly abandoned the emergency call button. The blonde’s reassuring words offered a sense of comfort: the property manager would be expecting them. This hinted that a malfunctioning elevator might be, regrettably, a common issue in this building, but it also meant that rescue would soon be on the way. At least, that was the flicker of hope that Esra held onto tightly.
She let out a weary sigh, carefully concealing her distress following the failed call as she leaned back against the cool, sturdy railing behind her. When she posed her question, Esra turned, a light chuckle escaping her lips as she pondered her response. Although she felt a twinge of hesitation about sharing her thoughts on finding a place of her own, separate from her husband, the presence of a stranger made her burdens feel significantly lighter. “After everything that’s happened,” she began, pausing to stifle another laugh, “I don’t think I’ll be.” A moment filled with unspoken words lingered in the air. “I was supposed to meet someone about a vacant room—just sort of window shopping,” she added with a casual wave of her hand, her tone light despite the weight of her situation.
"Yeah," she mused in agreement, her voice little more than a breath. "After this I don't think I'll be signing my name on any paperwork here any time soon, either." Which was pretty unfortunate considering she needed to find a place that wasn't a hotel sooner versus later.
Technically, she could afford it, but every penny put toward another night's stay was a penny taken from Gabby. That is, from her ongoing efforts to find Gabby, even if six years, no leads, and an entire police department loved to remind her how unlikely that was to ever happen.
She'd need a miracle, they said, and, clearly, when it came to those she was in short supply.
When her second attempt at a call ended in the property manager's voicemail as well she sighed, fingers tight around the device in an effort not to pitch it at the already dinged up wall. "I'm sure she's just... busy working with whoever to fix this." Her nostrils flared with a deep breath. "I'll give her a minute to call back before we call in the fire department."
A second or two passed before she murmured, "I'm Mere, by the way." It'd been so long since she'd so much as attempted being voluntarily social that she nearly didn't think to introduce herself, despite it seeming like they may be stuck together for a while. "If you're just window shopping, does that mean you're originally from around here?"
Wes shifted the toothpick in his mouth as the elevator jolted to a stop, brows drawing together as the numbers on the panel froze between two and three. Well, shit. At the woman's question, he looked over, noting the way she clutched a crumpled paper like it might anchor her. She looked tense — at least, from what he could tell. Still, being stuck in a place like this wasn't exactly fun. He hesitated, then just shook his head. "I'm not sure," he admitted, voice quiet but even. "Sorry. I'm, uh, just visiting." Rolling the toothpick between his teeth, he tried to press a button. Nothing. He tried another, glancing at the panel like maybe it’d take the hint and start working again. No luck. Defeated, his gaze flicked back to her, lingering a little longer this time. "You.. don't live here, right? Anyone in the building we can call?"
"No, I don't live here." Low underneath her breath, Meredith added, "And I don't think I want to after this."
So far since moving to town she'd toured several rentals and had found faults with every single one. Deep down she knew it wasn't so much the properties as it was the idea of starting over without the key people her life now lacked, but this time—This time, in this case, she was pretty sure any hesitance on her end was justified.
"I was supposed to be seeing one of the available units, so I can try giving the property manager a call." Mere smoothed out the lifeline that'd gotten crumpled within her fist, bypassing the gas receipt on the front to scan the information she'd written on its back. The call she placed next only lasted a few moments before Mere hung up with a heavy sigh.
"Maintenance is working on it, and they've already called the fire department, but she didn't have an ETA for either." Which was fine. Totally fine. Her base level anxiety hadn't just ramped up from its daily 3 to a solid 9 or anything.
Back pressed to the far wall, she slumped all the way to the elevator's floor. "I hope whoever you're visiting is a patient person." Her eyes flicked up to him and she attempted what ultimately fell short of a convincing smile. "Sounds like we may be here for a while."
Selin walked up to the car without any doubt that she would find help within the vehicle. It was no surprise that her thoughts barely exceeded the depth of what she needed, and stopped there. No question about whether she looked like she could be dangerous to the other person or that they could be dangerous to her. She'd been in new-york and this was the complete opposite of that. Nothing bad happened here
Plus, she knew this land. Frankly, she knew most of the people in this town except... the driver of this car.
Her brow furrowed when she noted the way the door was locked and the windows were rolled just halfway down. A clear hesitation from the driver and not the warm welcoming of a hot and comfortable car she'd anticipated.
It dawned her then.
"Wait, do you think I'm going to rob you or something? I would have shed a few layers to get people's attention if I wanted to lure someone, don't you think?"
"I've got a phone." Her own was pulled from her pocket and wiggled it. "You're going to be quicker than any cab that I want to call and I'm hoping you can drop me off at any bar. There's one on either side of here so you really choose where we're going."
She'd call to get her car towed tomorrow because she just didn't want to deal with it tonight.
Meredith wouldn't presume to understand the methods or motivations of those who wished to do others harm, but she did know, painfully well, that they didn't always come in such obvious packages. They could be as innocent and unassuming as the next person on the street, and you'd never know any different until it was already too late.
After all, nothing stood out to Kol as suspicious, or sounded alarms in the back of his head, when he was stopped for directions. Not once did he realize the danger until Gabby was already gone. Even though she wasn't there that day it was a lesson she'd take with her to her grave.
You couldn't trust anybody these days.
And yet, as she eyed the other woman with a healthy dose of wary hesitance, Mere found herself caving. Chances were she really did just need a ride. And if there were ulterior motives lurking beneath her request... would it really make a difference?
She was a wife without a husband. A mother without a child. For fuck's sake, she didn't even have a cat at home to miss her if she didn't return. Self preservation instincts told her to be cautious, but... deep down she realized she didn't really care. About anything, let alone the outcome of her next choice.
Worrisome, to be sure, but a problem to worry about some other day. Or never.
"Yeah, okay," she said at last, thumbing the button to automatically unlock her doors. "But you'll have to give me directions or an address to put into the GPS. I'm not from around here so I'm more likely to get us lost than I am anything else."
To say it was weird to have Meredith around again was putting it lightly. Once Alex had been old enough to move out, he'd done so without looking back. The state their father had regressed to had been... hard to watch, to say the least. It filled him with an indescribable rage; the ability for the man to just check out, to leave his eldest son holding bag: all the pressure, all the responsibility, for his other siblings. It had turned him into a relentless lawyer and commitment-phobic until Jiya. So, Meredith's later realized sympathy for their father... Well, it had driven them apart, to put it mildly.
Until Kol, and Gabby, and all of it fell apart. The ice between them had begun to thaw then, now 5 years ago, but even then Alex hadn't been making any overt overtures to reconnect. He was too selfish, still, too lost for words. And then when he had a daughter of his own, more of it started to make sense. He couldn't imagine the anguish of...
But then all of the other stuff, their childhood, their father, their mother, all felt too big to talk about. It just left them in an awkward place.
The sound of his sister's voice pulled Alex from his reverie, and that trancelike motion of washing sippy cups over the sink. What?
"What?" he blinked then, brain catching up. "Oh, um. Yeah. Sure. She, uh... really likes carrots, of all things, right now. I think it's because we were watching classic Looney Tunes. I give it a week before she's moved on from it." A laugh bubbled out of him, and then he continued. "In the fridge, produce drawer, on the right side. She also likes ranch with them, which is in the door, third shelf from the top. And it can all go on here," he finished, handing over Emmy's favorite pink daisy plate from the pile of now clean dishes on the drying rack.
A beat passed, and then: "Uh, thanks. By the way."
Meredith took it from his hands, and if her fingers trembled ever so slightly upon impact with the plastic she ignored it. She encountered at least ten things a day that reminded her of Gabby. That cracked open her chest and weaseled into her thoughts, threatening to push her toes another inch off the cliff's edge of sanity. If she paid every single one attention she'd never accomplish anything else.
The past six years stood as testament to that fact.
She needed to move. Needed to do something. Anything. And fixing Emmy's snack was about the simplest, easiest way to start. "Gabs was like that. She, uh, she once went three weeks where she only wanted to eat pickles and peanut butter." Not together, at the same time, but side by side. A corner of Mere's mouth twitched ever so fleetingly while she pictured her daughter sitting at their table, a spear of kosher dill in one hand and a spoonful of creamy Jif in the other.
One second—She only gave herself one second to sit with that memory before she tucked it safely back into its box and buried the entire thing down, down, down into the depths of her head. "Anyway," carrots and ranch in hand, she moved back to the counter and reached for a knife. "At least right now, as far as hyperfixations go, it could be worse."
Carefully, she started to cut each carrot into smaller fourths, meticulous in her quest to keep the new pieces small enough to be appropriate for a toddler, yet large enough she couldn't accidentally choke. The fact that she could still so easily slip into mom mode, despite having no reason to for the last several years—Well, that was something else she ignored.
"Do you and Emmy like it here? In South Carolina?" It probably would've been better to ask that before she decided to move there, herself, but Mere's curiosity wasn't selfish. It had nothing to do with her own potential happiness and everything to do with them, and the lives she'd missed out on. "I think part of me always thought you'd eventually come back home." And feared it in equal measure. "I'm curious what made you decide to stay."
Truthfully, Kol hated how much life loved to surprise him.
All sense of patience, understanding, or even the ability to take the curveballs on the chin were gone. Tragedy, grief, and guilt had burnt it out of him. In one moment he'd gone from being a man who had everything, to being someone who had nothing.
Without a doubt, in his heart and mind, the second he'd lost Gabby, he'd also lost Meredith. What had happened to them had been too much to keep their marriage from folding and falling apart. It didn't go gently either. So many fights, disagreements, blaming, and taking the absolute hell they felt out on each other.
After a year of remaining in the house that had the echos of his daughter's voice and laughter, he left California for South Carolina. The old Kingston family vacation home had sat vacant for a long time and his parents urged him to put a little space between himself and all the pain. They were afraid they were going to lose him. Kol would say they already had. After Gabby's kidnapping his soul was gone. He'd also been getting in trouble with the local police and the FBI with his constant pressure and what they called harassment.
What did they or anyone expect from a father that had just had his baby taken from him?
So, here he was, five years later, hanging by the thinnest thread yet somehow doing better than he had in years, shopping around the grocery store. The pantry had been empty for too long. Along with the fridge and cabinets. Kol had become accustomed to surviving on fumes. Alcohol fumes. And he couldn't successfully sustain a diet of takeout and delivery.
Especially when he hit the deepest of lows in missing his daughter. Often times he still made her favorites. A bowl of Lucky Charms, the mini waffles with fresh strawberry bits and cream, dino nuggets, peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut into a heart shape, and the homemade mac and cheese with pieces of crispy cheese. All of it. Kol would cycle through and trick himself just for a moment that he was prepping and cooking for her, that he was eating with her.
With a basket in hand he'd reached the cereal aisle and stood frozen upon rounding the massive display of tortillas at the end cap when he was sure his eyes were playing tricks on him. Surely this was just another drunken hallucination. Well, it actually couldn't be, Kol hadn't had a drop today. Cautiously, tentatively, he stepped closer to the blonde clutching the Lucky Charms. There were times when Kol would see a blonde woman close in height to his ex-wife and it would take him a few glances to convince himself that it wasn't her.
Only a few feet away though he was beginning to think he'd maybe finally fully fucked up his mind. The woman he saw standing there wasn't a stranger that he could blink away and move on from. Especially not in seeing her have such a moment with the cereal he'd come for. Gabby's favorite — she loved those marshmallows and the leprechaun.
Then she said his name when he was still trying to convince himself he was just going crazy. Maybe that was better than the actual reality. To be completely fucking nuts. If he lost his damn mind then the pain would have to go away, right? "MJ — is that, that you? For real?" Kol's voice was deep and rough, as though he hadn't been talking much in quite a while. Which was true.
It had taken him a second to register her basket trying to flee from her arm and Kol reacted too late but he stepped closer, reached out and grabbed it, then placed it on the floor. Better to save from any future mishaps. His blue eyes wandered all over her. Mainly her face. The stress and grief had shone on her and he was sure he looked twenty years older than his mid-thirties. As she tried to push a question out he began nodding his head and reached for a box of the same off the shelf. At this point he'd been certain that Chapman's was keeping a stock of Lucky Charms solely for him.
"What're you doing here?" Clearly this wasn't a passing through, nor a visit for him. His ex-wife was out grocery shopping and that told Kol more than one would think. Not only that but she was in her pajamas and had her hair tied up. "Most people wouldn't figure that," he quipped in his deep rasp. Well, unless she was headed to a bar. "I'm not exactly a social butterfly or the life of any party."
A thought occurred to him in something that she'd said, it dawning on him moments later. "Wait — heard from whom?" Maybe his parents were still in touch with her. Given that he never really answered the phone or made any calls, didn't bother with texts, and their letters sat unopened he wouldn't be the wiser.
The way his voice stroked the curves of her former nickname, one almost exclusively used by Kol and Kol alone, threatened to buckle her at the knees, but it was those two questions— the ones that scraped free of an untested throat—that nearly did. Another soft, unsteady breath slipped through the seam of her lips.
He was shocked, that much was clear and she couldn't blame him for it, but it almost sounded as if... as if, maybe, he'd pictured her face in every crowd over the last five years like she did his. As if he couldn't believe she was truly there, in front of him now, when every other instance had been proven nothing more than a figment of imagination.
Then again, assuming he thought of her at all these days, let alone with any ounce of fondness within those nostalgic reveries, was probably just projecting. Or crazy. She definitely couldn't rule out that it was a bit of both.
"Yeah, it's—it's me." Another uncertain pause kicked in while Meredith stood there, unsure of what to do with her now empty hands. She tried reading his face, tried plucking out any one underlying emotion beyond that shock, but couldn't.
Gone were the days she could read him like a cherished book. That shouldn't have hurt the way it did.
After the silence dragged on a little too long for comfort, she released the soft flesh of her inner cheek from the tight clamp of her teeth. "I, uh, I live here now. Or at least I have for a few days. I just got in last weekend." Again, she waited, attempting to gauge how he handled the news she wasn't just passing through, but there to stay. "Alex—He lives here with Emmy. I—I wanted to be close."
Her sudden move was an effort to bridge the gap between her and her older brother after far too long, and get to know the niece she'd otherwise avoided for the simple heartache of it all.
"I guess you have a point, though. I'm more of a 'home by six, in bed by eight' girl, myself. Nights out on the town aren't really my thing anymore." In other words: if they hadn't crossed paths now, and she hadn't gotten up the nerve to go find him on purpose, they might not have ever reunited face to face.
In hindsight, that might not have been the worst thing.
Seeing Kol again threatened to open a pandora's box of old wounds and all the aches that came with longing for a future ripped from her hands, but those she was at least familiar with. She knew how to deal with them, even if only enough to get through another day. She didn't know how to answer his question. Not in a way that wasn't lying but still conveniently skirted the truth.
"Come to think of it, he's probably the one who told me he saw you." No he hadn't. Mere and Alex barely talked about the weather, let alone her ex-husband. "Or, uhm, maybe it was Jiya? Or... your parents?" No and no, but it none of the above were impossible. And that thin thread of possibility was enough to assuage her guilt over keeping the reality to herself. It's not like she could tell him that once—just once—she'd asked her private investigator to check in on his whereabouts. To confirm he was okay. If nothing else, to confirm he was still alive.
Unfortunately, she was all too aware that 'alive' and 'living' were two entirely different things.
Unable to resist the urge any long, Meredith finally let her eyes roam and wander the entire, towering length of her ex-husband. They took their time, clocking all the ways he'd aged and changed since they last spoke, and all the ways he still reminded her of pancake Sundays and late night slow dances by the kitchen sink.
That, she thought, was perhaps the cruelest of all. The reminders, and the remembering. It hadn't hit her before that exact moment that moving to town, seeing Kol again—him, but different— would, in its own ways, feel like losing everything twice.
She sniffed, then cleared her throat. "How... how are you?" Instantly, she regretted the question. Why ask something she already knew the answer to? Of course he wasn't well. Because she wasn't well. Neither of them were well, or happy, or whole because it'd been six years and Gabby still wasn't home.
Esra had been riding an exhilarating wave of adrenaline for the past few weeks. In secret, she had been attending a weekly support group at the library, and the thrill of their meeting yesterday prompted her to embark on an apartment search today, if only for the thrill of it. Although she didn't genuinely believe she was ready to find a new home, the allure of the idea captivated her. Rahmi was rarely home, and their growing emotional distance transformed her beautifully decorated house into a cold, echoing museum rather than a warm sanctuary. Still, something deep inside her resisted letting go of that familiar space. As she stood here today, she told herself it meant little—Esra hoped it wouldn’t matter at all.
Esra had an appointment and, somewhat to her surprise, managed to set it up by calling the number prominently displayed on the side of the building. Standing in the elevator, a wave of nerves washed over her. Her palms began to sweat, and she took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the fluttering in her stomach. The elevator felt ancient; its paint chipped and faded, and the floor was marred with unsightly stains that told tales of years of use.
Suddenly, the elevator lurched to a jarring stop, and Esra gasped, her heart racing as she instinctively gripped the cool metal railing. She turned to glance at the only other occupant, her eyes darting around the enclosed space as she tried to assess the situation. "I don't—" she began, her brows furrowing together in concern as she leaned down to study the emergency call button, which seemed almost taunting in its stillness. "Hold on."
With a slight tremor, Esra retrieved her cell phone, its familiar weight offering her a small measure of comfort. She leaned forward, her heart pounding, and pressed the button. The sound of ringing echoed in the cramped elevator, lingering in the stale air for several torturous seconds, only for the call to drop abruptly. Esra let out a sharp sigh, the weight of uncertainty settling heavily on her shoulders. "That's not a good sign," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper against the oppressive silence around her.
Meredith's optimism hung on by the thinnest thread on the best of days. Now? That thread snapped within seconds of the elevator’s emergency call button cutting off and pitching them both back into unnerving silence.
You've got to be kidding me.
“Try it again.” No sooner did the quiet, tense demand pass her lips did she gently move in herself, one finger jamming against the useless red circle. Nothing. That time there wasn’t even so much as a hint of a ring. Labored breaths sawed through the little box they were trapped in. It took a few too many seconds for Mere to realize the shallow pants were coming from her.
She didn’t do complications. Or surprises. Certainly not both at the same time.
“It’s— It’s fine. I was supposed to be meeting the property manager. She’s expecting me. I’ll just give her a call.” Although, when she began fishing for her phone, Mere couldn't help but take note of all the little red flags she'd previously tried to dismiss as 'historic quirks'. Chipped and flaking paint. Stained, faded carpet on the elevator floor. A few hairline cracks through the mirror behind them, foggy with age and missing a bolt or two—It wasn't so easy to romanticize the many, many warning signs now.
How much maintenance and management did the place even get?
Her fingers flew across the screen of her phone, only pausing to confirm her saved contact against that old receipt in her hand, before she pressed send. The connection was weak and spotty, but thankfully didn't drop.
"Do you, uh, do you live here?" It was a small attempt at distracting conversation while they waited.... and when she not-so-subtly punched at the 'end call' button upon reaching a voice message, only to redial again.
Γιαγιά. His sole reason for making the move to Briar Ridge and leaving all that he had in New York behind. As his last living relative, outliving both of his parents, Niko wanted to be close. It was easy to move his work along with him. The owner and CEO could do that right? Make one of the rooms in the grandiose estate in Briar Ridge Hills an office and field everything pertaining to the family business and his own as a wealth manager there? In too many ways Niko felt like he'd had no choice.
This was where his γιαγια decided to live out her days. In this retirement community for seniors. Niko couldn't blame her, the scenery was beautiful, and he knew γιαγια enjoyed being so close to the beach. He felt like he still had so much to learn from her in regards to his heritage and the weight on his shoulders, and she was now the only one that could share any of that knowledge and history with him.
With Niko's attention in his phone reading through some emails while in the lift up to the top floor, he was a bit oblivious to anyone in the car with him. That was until the damn thing came to a screeching, grinding halt. The metal scraping made him wince as his ears wanted to bleed and the suddenness of the strong stop jostled him out of the corner he'd been leaning into.
❝ ⸻ Never happened before, ❞ he answered, then shuffled forward to examine the buttons with a scrutinizing gaze to see if there was any warning or alert. ❝ But I've only been visiting about a month. ❞ He and γιαγια had lunch or dinner a couple of times a week. On a whim after a glance at the blonde Niko pressed the emergency call button and nothing happened. So, he pressed it again. Then groaned in frustration and lightly kicked at the elevator wall.
❝ I'm not sure. I've never been in this situation before, ❞ he turned to her, honest answer as one of his hands went to rest on his hip. The other held his phone. ❝ Seems like everything's dead. ❞ Brow slightly furrowed in frustration it finally dawned on Niko when he remembered the weight of his phone in his hand. ❝ Hey, do you have a signal? I'll see if I can reach η γιαγιά μου. ❞ A second after he pulled his phone up and unlocked the device with his face, he corrected, ❝ my grandmother. If you wanna try yours? ❞
Meredith's hope lifted its head off the ground... then promptly faceplanted at his amendment to that first statement. A month wasn't very much time to form a real assessment of the place, let alone if it was only through sporadic visits. "So you don't actually live here, then." Meaning he wasn't likely to have maintenance on speed dial, either.
That was... fine. This was fine. Really. It didn't somewhat, at least a little bit, feel as if her heart was going to gallop straight through her chest It definitely didn't feel like her chest was growing so tight she couldn't breathe.
Focusing on what she could control, versus what was entirely out of her hands, Mere rooted through her purse in an effort to find her own cell phone. Alexa—She'd call Alexa. Surely as the manager of this building she'd be able to do something.
But that hope, too, was short lived when she finally grasped the device and held it aloft. One bar. One bar that, very inconveniently, kept vanishing on her as she shifted and turned within the tiny metal box they were suspended in between floors. Panic sank a few more of its claws in, blurring her vision around the edges.
"I— I don't really have much service." The urge to scream or growl or unleash some other primal response to that sentence was strong, but she resisted. Barely. "I was supposed to be meeting the manager, though, to look at one of the available apartments, so if I can get it to stick long enough that's what I'll do."
It was more reassurance for herself than it was him, particularly because he didn't seem to share in her one-second-away-from-hyperventilating-to-death problem. "And we can try the emergency call button." Creating a plan helped, at least in the sense that she didn't actually pass out on the spot.
In an effort to distract herself, Mere inched across the few feet of space, phone held high toward the ceiling as the thumb of her free hand jammed against the red button on the panel. "You, uh, you said your grandmother lives here? Does she like it?"
Selin waved her hands in the air, hoping the car that slowed beside hers would see her. Getting her car stuck on muddy farm land was becoming enough of an habit that she was putting serious thought behind getting herself an SUV or a Jeep that would be able to get on and off private property with ease. Not that the private property mattered much when people owned a hundred upon hundreds of acres. They'd never know she was on there, inspecting some of their land to see the potential of it, which she would then pitch to some clients who had interest in investing in acres and turning it into commercial property.
"I need a ride!" She called out to them as she jogged towards their car. "Don't worry about that, I'll get someone to tow it in the morning."
Holy mother of—Meredith sucked in a breath so harsh and swift it burned, adding just another element of discomfort on top of her already racing heart.
It wasn't just that she'd come out of nowhere. It was that, for a split second, Mere thought the woman needed help. Serious help. Not the kind of help that came from flat tires or smoke fanning out from underneath the hood, but the kind of help that needed law enforcement. Crime scene tape. Medics.
Then again, given the thoughts she'd been torturing herself with just before the dark head of hair and waving hands crested a small, obscured lip of land, that was probably to be expected. Her mind had already been halfway to 'tragic-town' long before her foot slammed against the brake.
Still, she couldn't resist scanning their surroundings for... something, and that's when she saw it. Another vehicle, a little off balance with two tires dug deep into the mud.
Visually confirming her story helped, yet didn't entirely erase Meredith's unease. The woman was unharmed, and wasn't fleeing anything, but that didn't mean she could be trusted, right? Look what happened to Gabby when a seemingly innocent stranger stopped her ex-husband under the guise of needing 'help'.
"Uhm." Both her passenger and driver's side windows rolled half down now, Meredith hesitated. "Do you just need a phone to call them now? I can hand you mine. I'm not sure—I mean, I might not be headed in the same direction you are." Unlikely, though, considering she was just killing time and had no specific destination to reach.
𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆: any multi-level residential building downtown, morning
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: open to anyone, capped at (2/3)
Alexa Haverty, property manager. (854) 525-6613. Fifth floor, Apartment C. Parking on street. Monday, 9:30am—Meredith skimmed over the hastily scrawled notes she'd taken the evening before on the back of a gas station receipt, settling her nerves with the repetition of now very familiar information.
She knew who she was seeing. Where she was meeting them. Where to leave her car, what time to be there, how to contact them if she got lost... It was fine. She was fine. Maybe a little bit off her rocker, what with the desperate need to know and control every single thing, but she would see the apartment, decide whether or not she'd apply, and it would be fine.
At least, that was the thought she held onto, tooth and nail, until the elevator came to a whining, jarring, full fucking stop. Eyes wide and flying off the slip in her hand, Mere glanced at the numbers 2 and 3 illuminated on the panel. That's—What? No. A moment later her gaze switched to the only other person taking the lift.
"Is this—This isn't normal here, is it?" Was this a freak malfunction, probably another little gift from God to push her that much closer to the edge, or was this something that happened once, twice a week? Is that why the rent was so underpriced compared to the rest of the market? Because every day was a gamble between making it home before the ice cream melts or entrapment?
𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆: at alex's place, downtown, mid afternoon
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: closed for @alex-caldwell
"Emmy girl, these look amazing." Hands fanned out in front, Mere gave her fingers a wiggle to show off her newest upgrade. Purple peel-off polish extended almost to the first knuckle of her left ring finger, and its orange counterpart nearly wrapped around to the pad of her left thumb, but— "This is the best manicure I think I've ever seen. Thank you."
She beamed back at the little girl, soaking up the kind of energetic chatter unique to three year old's almost exclusively, and pointedly ignored the simultaneous cramp it inflicted on her heart. They looked nothing alike, and yet, somehow, in that moment, her niece reminded her so much of Gabby.
It was the innocence and the childish excitement. The incessant babble and breakneck speed at which she pivoted between one activity and the next.
Mere's eyes began to well, but she drew the tears back, back, back and swallowed. She couldn't—wouldn't—lose her shit now. Not in front of a completely oblivious three year old. "I'm, uh, I'm just gonna go check in on your daddy, okay? Hang tight."
She pushed off the floor and booked it toward the kitchen, just barely winning the battle against her own emotions. Especially since, underneath the thread of agony forever binding her to the daughter she'd lost, there was guilt. Guilt for letting three years pass before she'd made any attempts to meet or know her niece. Guilt because even now, all this time later, she couldn't look at one without picturing the other.
Ironically, though, time with Emmy still came easier than confronting the strain between her and Emmy's dad. She only managed to hold her brother's gaze for a few seconds before shame took over, forcing her to look away. For as much as she was just getting to know Emmy, it almost felt like she was starting back at square one with Alex, too, and she only had herself to blame.
"She's adorable," Mere murmured to her feet. "You, uh, you did good. You're doing really good." Nodding more or less to herself she paused, keeping her real reasons for vacating the living room unspoken. "Can I... Is there anything I can do?" She wouldn't say she needed just a moment, that her heart needed a short little break, but something told her he'd know, anyway. It was pretty much spelled out across her face.
"She was asking for a snack a few minutes ago, so I could—I mean, I could take care of that. If you want."
𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆: chapman's grocery store, early evening
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: closed for @kolkingston
Fruity Pebbles, Coco Puffs, Cap'n Crunch, Raisin Bran, Frosted Flakes— Meredith went still when her eyes landed on the familiar, bright red box of Lucky Charms. It'd make no sense to throw it in her basket. At least, not to anyone who knew her.
Mere hated marshmallows unless they were oozing, piping hot, and stuffed within a s'more. The hard little pieces in Lucky Charms, the kind that never really softened but grew slick from sitting in milk, made her stomach turn.
And yet... Her hand moved forward, fingertips almost brushing against its brightly printed front. Almost. She might've hated the cereal, but they were Gabby's favorite, and for the last six years she'd bought a fresh box every single week just in case... Well, just in case.
It seemed a little silly to keep up the habit now, so far south and so far from the scene that started it all. Maybe it was silly. Except not getting them felt like giving up. It felt like a message to her little girl that she'd stopped hoping, stopped looking, stopped trying.
Suddenly the box was in her hand. She didn't even remember picking it up.
Pale fingers dented the thin packaging from how tightly she gripped it, still at war with her head and her heart over whether the damn thing was coming home (home, being a hotel) with her when another figure cut into her periphery. "Shit, sorry." She was in the way, wasn't she?
Unable to just put the box back or toss it into the basket hooked over her arm she at least moved a step off to the side so they could get closer while she made up her mind. That is, she tired, but only managed half of a pivot before her entire body froze for the second time.
Her arms slackened, and the basket started to fall, leaving her fumbling to catch it all and somehow never taking her eyes off of the man before her the entire time. Not just any man, either, but—"Kol."
She knew he was in town, or at least had been for a time, but she really thought if they ever crossed paths again it would be weeks from now. Months, maybe. Not when she was already in her pajamas for the night, all bare faced, hair snarled and haphazardly thrown into a bun, grocery shopping for two when she clearly only needed enough for one.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
"I was just— Did you need—" The hand that hadn't abandoned the now battered box of cereal tried to gesture at the shelves behind, but faltered when she came this close to smacking herself on the cheek. Eyes wide, face flaming, Mere swallowed again, all the while resisting the bone deep urge to look her ex-husband over head to toe... or turn tail and flee.
"It's, uh, it's good to—I heard you lived here now, and I was going to—" No, don't lie. Having only been in town less than a week, herself, she had no plans to track him down anytime soon. Even if the thought did cross her mind that very first, sleepless night. "I mean, I figured I'd see you around eventually." Just not yet. Not for a while. Not when she was running on fumes and wholly unprepared to face down so much history.
