Meet Me By The Mountain (FemChara X FemReader)

1 - Death

You hadn't known death until yesterday.

On Friday, you had been in an argument with your best friend, Janelle. It was over something stupid, probably. Even though it was only five days ago now, the details are hard to recall. But you do know that you left off angry with each other. She had stomped out of your room and driven home. Instead of hanging out on the weekend like you usually do, neither of you communicated with each other at all. You truly didn't know or care what she was doing.

Until the local news report came in.

It was Sunday evening. You were sitting on the couch, watching TV with your cat on your lap. The last episode of your favorite TV show ended. Bored, you decided to switch to the news. The headline read:

"GIRL WENT MISSING AT PARTY. COULD BE IN DANGER. IF YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HER CURRENT WHEREABOUTS, PLEASE CONTACT SAFETY SERVICES IMMEDIATELY."

They started describing the missing woman. The scrolling headline read:

"AGE - 18. GENDER - FEMALE. HEIGHT - 5'8. WEIGHT - 130 lbs."

Then an old high school yearbook photo rolled in.

There was teenage Janelle, smiling innocuously. Tall, blonde, and freckled, with a hairstyle you had warned her against for what had felt like to your teenage self to be decades.

And there she was, on a "missing person" list.

All night, you couldn't sleep. All day, the next day, you were silent. Every minute doing a task, your mind was elsewhere, and every minute that wasn't filled with work you spent on your phone searching for updates, your entire body cold in anticipation.

And nothing came, until that night, Monday night, when you sat quiet and perfectly still on the couch, watching the local news channel. You waited intently, unaware of the growing darkness outside, the brewing storm of wind and rain that barraged your household, mind and soul locked on the television screen that would tell you the fate of your missing friend.

"...and Janelle Florida was found dead on an obscure mountain located twenty miles away from the site of the party, with a long bloody gash through her chest that experts are guessing was the work of an incredibly sharp knife."

--

I woke up to the sound of rushing rain. It was 11:00 A.M.. I had slept in.

Today was Tuesday. Yesterday was Monday. Monday night I had spent staring lifeless at the television screen for seven hours straight. When the news program had ended last night, I was numb. It was like a part of my brain had died. I couldn't think about anything; I was in a state of total shock and disbelief. I had left the TV on while I lay immobile on the couch. Cheery children's shows streamed into my ears for hours. Then it switched onto Janelle's old favorite. I quickly turned it off.

I'm not sure exactly when I fell asleep. It felt like I never did. I must've, though. I suppose it all blended together because I wanted to believe the whole thing had been a dream. What a nice thought that would be.

But no. I was awoken by the sound of thunderstorms. I opened my eyes, which were dry and tender from last night. Instinctively, I turned on my side and grabbed my phone, which lay there. It was out of batteries. I plugged it in, and groaned. I walked downstairs and turned on the boiler. I got out a mug and made coffee.

After a minute of coffee drinking, I heard the distinctive jingle of my phone powering on. I wandered over and picked it up.
I was immediately flooded with an army of notifications. Overnight texts rolled in from people who I hadn't heard from in months. Sending prayers, saying how sorry they were, how they knew me and Janelle were close. What great friends these people were. Sending me thoughts and prayers and worthless pity, but never there when I or Janelle actually needed it. I snorted. Janelle was the only one who cared, and now she's dead. I didn't need to read anyone's stupid messages. I wish they would just forget about me and live their Insta-perfect lives. I went through my contact list and blocked every one of them.

I kept scrolling down. Apparently I had also missed several calls. The first was from the police station, asking me to report in for questioning. The second was from a person I didn't seem to know. They weren't in my contacts, and I didn't recognize their number. I hesitated for a moment before playing the voicemail. Did I really want to hear what this stranger had to say?

Eh, why not.

And so the voicemail played.

"Hello y/n," said a woman's voice. "I understand that someone you care about passed away recently. Janelle Florida, I believe. I understand that it must be very difficult for you. It was a very sudden and traumatic event. You must be in need of closure. I live on the mountain where she died, and I was there when she died. I know some important information about her death. It might provide closure for you. If you're interested, please meet me alone at the mountain of Janelle's death - Mt. Ebott - this Friday. Goodbye. I hope you'll be there."

The voicemail clicked out.

I rolled my eyes. Probably some stupid wilderness therapy yoga-in-the-woods "psychic" looking for grieving people to scam. God, why couldn't everyone just leave me alone?

But I still needed to go to the police station. That was one problem that couldn't be ignored. I looked in the mirror. I hadn't washed my hair in weeks. I quickly rubbed it down with a damp paper towel. Great. Now I looked dirty and wet. Whatever. Who cares what the police think, anyway.
I threw my shoes on and drove over.