d2 . meredith strauss

m e r e d i t h .

Hallowed, but hesitated
Shallow, but full in all your veins
Shadowed by every other weight

Anabelle
Finn

Two names scrawled onto a single piece of paper that had been messily pinned to the notice board in the main hall of the mansion. As they sunk in the tight coils in Meredith’s stomach loosened for a fraction of a second-

Anabelle.

Even though she had escaped her best friend's name was there, lazy loops that marked each l. Meredith knew that handwriting, it was Octavia’s, matriarch of the Strauss household, one of the three siblings who decided their fates every year. Her breath quickened, heartbeat rapid in her chest, it was painful, and she gasped, feet stumbling backward as the reality sunk in. Sunk in so deeply that she struggled to remain standing on two shaking legs. The bathroom was a quick escape from ambitious eyes that would latch onto any sign of weakness as soon as they saw it.

Terrifying. It was the same feeling she had felt last year on this exact day. Clawing its way inside her chest and burying it within the depths of heart until she was hyperventilating against a bathroom stall. The panic had made her tear her new shirt (Octavia would later punish her for destroying that shirt), as she’d yanked it off herself, revealing pale skin that was covered in an assortment of scars and bruises.

Breathe.

That’s what they told you to do when the world felt like it was falling on top of you, and you were drowning beneath a rock. They told you to just breathe. It didn’t help, she didn’t really think breathing was the best technique to use when there was water all around you. Suddenly she’s choking, gasping for air, and sweet, gentle Anabelle is beside her. Her delicate hands -too soft, they’d say, too weak they’d tell you- rubbed against her bareback, somehow her hands always managed to be warm, whilst Meredith’s seemed to always be frozen.

“You got this, Mer, everything will be okay,” she seemed to gulp at the air, and her body was burning, trying to keep itself alive. Anabelle wrapped an arm around her, pressing her head into Meredith’s blonde hair as she gently began to hum. It wasn’t fair, this wasn’t supposed to be happening, Anabelle was the sweetest of all of them, far cry from impatient Meredith who tended to push away anything around her. But Anabelle had persisted, the same as Agnes, forcing themselves into her life and heart. Betrayal, it was a complete and utter betrayal for Anabelle to do this.

They sat there, on the cold tiles for what could have been a lifetime. The sun had begun to set as Meredith felt her heart begin to calm. Anabelle hadn’t moved an inch, holding on so tightly, clinging to Meredith as if she was a lift raft that would keep them alive through the coming storm. But she couldn’t, Meredith couldn’t keep her alive. She knew they all knew that the Strauss family would get their way, the Peacekeeper’s turned a blind eye to their cruelty. They were alone, surrounded by other children as scared as she was, but others who seemed to thrive in this crushing regime.

“What do we do, Anna? You can’t fight next week, he’ll kill you,” she pulled her head away from her knees, turning her green eyes over to her friends. They were pleading, and her lower lip shook as she spoke, eyes stinging as the tears threatened to defeat her. But she couldn’t, a harsh lesson that Octavia had taught them, tears got you nowhere, they were weak. The Strauss weren’t weak, they killed the weak. “It’ll be okay, don’t you worry, we knew, Mer,” Anna looked away, for once her voice seemed unsteady, and she clung onto Meredith’s arm with shaking hands. “We already talked about this, we knew they’d pick me.”

They had, but it didn’t stop Meredith from dreaming and hoping that it would never happen. “Come on, we should get to bed before we get in trouble,” Anabelle offered the other girl a weak smile, straightening and pulling on her dress as she stood. Anabelle shrugged off her jacket, offering Meredith a hand to get up before helping wrap the shaking girl into its warm embrace. One more week, that was all she might have left with Anabelle, she grabbed onto her hand, entwining their fingers together.

She didn’t want to let go, she didn’t want to let Anabelle go into that ring up against Finn, he was older than her, bigger and stronger than her. All words that she would never say out loud, instead she would bury them, deep into her heart and wait for it to break all over again.

m e r e d i t h .

Hallowed, but hesitated
Shallow, but full in all your veins
Shadowed by every other weight

She’d watched, fingers digging into flesh as Finn had stabbed his sword right through her heart. An instant and Anabelle was on her knees, eyes wide as she stared at the sword embedded inside her. She hadn’t even reached for the blade that Killian had thrown, instead, she had stood, expectant, as Finn had grabbed his own. Suddenly a life that had been a part of her own, interwoven into her very existence was gone. Anabelle simply ceased to be, a few hours from now her body would be tossed into an unmarked grave, covered in dirt and forgotten.

Anabelle was dead and Finn had killed her.

She wanted to kill him.

Meredith Strauss still woke up screaming. The same way she had once Anabelle had fallen into the dirt and Victor had thrown his fist into the air in celebration, unphased, just happy that he had seen some blood. Her scream had been drowned, as Octavia had yelled, enraged by the lack of entertainment, Killian had followed suit, sending out a chorus of boos and throwing his popcorn bag at Finn. It wasn’t supposed to go this way, there was supposed to be a dramatic fight, where the two fought for their freedom, each wanting another chance to live and survive. Anabelle was supposed to fight, she was supposed to win. Numbness had crept into her as she had sat back down, lifeless eyes had stared at the scene before her.

Agnes was her remaining tether, the one person that kept her from losing it all. After Anabelle’s death she’d become wilder, finding herself throwing weapons and resorting to fists when things didn’t go her way. Victor called the change fantastic, greedy eyes pleased with the little monster he was creating. Every time her hands curled on a weapon and she spared the picture of Anabelle’s body sprung to her mind before her was now a person wearing Finn’s face. They always wore his face, and she allowed the rage to build behind each movement as she thrust and hacked.

She’d yell and scream, wrestling down her anxiety and the panic that threatened to destroy her when she was lying in bed at night. It was the only time it reared its ugly head, taking over her in the safety of darkness. She beat it down with bloody fists and spit as she hit her pillow or punched the wall. Anger simmered, burning in her eyes and she allowed it to define her. It was safer this way. They couldn’t see her as weak, they wouldn’t destroy her like they had Anabelle.