Fabrications

• 8| pain •

[to all who have felt indescribable pain; all who know the side effects of heartbreak incredibly well.]

                                     • • • •
Meredith's own heart was at the merciless hold of a drought; there were no tears left. In fact, for the past two months, the brunette did anything but cry. The shrills were replaced with unwavering silence; her watery eyes now substituted by stoic and lifeless glances. It seemed as if the moment Debra left the world, she'd left a heap of chaos in her wake. People screamed and cried about the loss, and just about everyone had something they had to say that testified to how amazing she was. The ambitious young woman was never one to ignore the limelight; and as a cruel irony, her death was just another circumstance that proved that.

The brunette was surrounded by her older brother and his best friend, aimlessly waiting around within the dim living room for any news about the autopsy. After all, it wouldn't be long before Debra's parents would call her back and shed light on what could've possibly been the cause of their daughter— her best friend's —death. Although the Berle's knew better than to be angry at Meredith for the fact that she wasn't able to prevent the casualty, she was never able to truly shake off the lingering dust of guilt from her shoulders. The utter responsibility she felt towards the tragedy was just as familiar as it was 13 years ago and it only doubled the young woman's agony.

"They should be calling any minute, right? I mean, the coroner had enough time to figure out what happened," Garrett uttered with a hasty pace back and forth.

"We already know what happened," Kenneth shot back solemnly, running a hand across his lips before propping his chin as he remained seated. His response was enough to give Meredith and Garrett a bitter feeling because they knew full well that the only thing they could be sure of was of Debra's murderous end.

"Well, what specifically happened then. Did they tell you how long it would be, Mere?"

The brunette shot back a solemn gaze towards her brother and shook her head. Truth be told, Meredith wasn't sure just how much she wanted the answer to her question. In fact, she wasn't all that enthusiastic about learning what exactly made Debra lose her life. She didn't want to know about her final hours. She didn't want to think of whether or not Debra couldn't breathe as she tried calling for help— her own best friend's help. Meredith didn't want to face the thought that while she was sleeping the night away, her best friend was fighting for her life.

"Just give them time, Garrett," she retaliated with evident stress. "It's not like they're going to think of calling me right after hearing what caused their only daughter to die."

Evident venom was laced up in her voice as the last word lingered, easily known to be just as hard for Meredith to hear as it escaped her lips. The eldest Holt held his tongue in apprehension. He'd never seen his sister in such a detached phase; she would've never been brazen enough to speak with so much vigor when all of them knew just how heartbroken she was. And as he sat down, Garrett reaffirmed a comforting grip on her hand regardless of her lack of emotion.

"You know if they call, it's okay to cry about it, right?" he inquired almost inaudibly as his face morphed into visible sadness.

"I'm all cried out," Meredith responded meekly. "I don't think I have any tears left for me to even let out anymore, Garrett."