KILL YOUR DARLINGS ✸ Saltburn

𝒙𝒙𝒗𝒊𝒊𝒊. goodbye, goodbye

𖤐 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑾𝑬𝑵𝑻𝒀-𝑬𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻:
╰┈➤ goodbye, goodbye ༉‧₊˚.

MEREDITH RECEIVED A CALL THE MORNING AFTER LEAVING SALTBURN. To Meredith's surprise, it was from Elspeth.

"Venetia's gone. She's--she's taken her own life." Her half-shaken voice said on the other end.

"What?" Meredith choked back, her entire world seemingly freezing around her as her heart sunk deep within her.

The words hang in the air, weighing the young girl down and nearly knocking her on her hands and knees. 

A sniffle. Elspeth sniffles once before speaking through the phone again. "Do you think you could make it to the memorial service?" 

Meredith didn't respond--she couldn't. 

Frankly, she didn't quite make out what the woman said to her due to her state of shock, but once she was able to process it, she remained silent. 

"Meredith, darling?" 

For the first time maybe ever, it seemed as though Elspeth Catton was pleading. 

Meredith had known her for short of a decade and never once heard her use the word please and although she isn't now, it's pretty damn clear in her voice that she's willing. 

Before she could realize, two warm tears slipped down her paled face and into the crevices of her neck. She tugged her lush bottom lip between her teeth and stared back at the train seat in front of her. 

And surprising both women, she nodded to herself and confirmed. "I'll be there." 

THE MEMORIAL WAS NOTHING IF NOT EXCRUCIATINGLY DIFFICULT. The last thing on earth Meredith wanted to do was to stand beside Oliver (regardless of circumstances) but she owed it to Venetia and her character to at least power through a thirty-minute service.

That, however, didn't stop Oliver from attempting to speak to her.

"I'm sorry about Venetia," he says, his thumb brushing against the back of her elbow ever-so-slightly.

Meredith quickly pulls it away from him and close to her chest, not sparing him a single word.

"I know you probably hate me," his voice is low, quiet. Secured and innocent. He wants to guilt trip the poor girl into his ways because he knows her. Or, used to.

The old Meredith might have just taken his hand back and apologized but she physically couldn't.

The last piece of Meredith's dignity chipped away the night Felix died and now she was just as empty and miserable as the rest of them.

Oliver Quick made Meredith's blood run cold.

"But I truly am sorry about Venetia." he continues, cerulean eyes softened.