ablissfae

[ablissfae]

so sorry for the lack of an update today!! my bf came back into town and i spent time with him, and was also just not feeling all that well throughout the week. plan for double chapters next sunday!!

[ablissfae]

the last carrow girl ; lee jeno

[03] THE CARROW HOUSE STILL BREATHES.

[ word count ] 2.8k

[warnings ] mentions of a break-in, stalking imagery, implied surveillance, paranoia and dread, tense physical proximity, grief and loss, authority gaslighting (briefly), unsolved trauma, fear of being watched and hunted, mild language, light suggestive tone, mentions of a missing person

[ author's note ] this one was kind of hard to write 😪 wonderin' if it's because we finally get to meet jeno for the first time. that's what I'm gonna go with. there's something about writing a character who's been haunting the narrative (not really) and then—boom, bro's there.

also, protective jeno off the bat??

sign me tf up!!!

like sir!!!! why are you dragging her away from the mess just to comfort her???? I'm eating that shit up, need it in my life plz.

i was literally sweating writing some of this chapter lmaooo, not because it was spicy (yet)(maybe)(probably), but because the tension?? the unsaid things?? the way vera mae tries to act normal when everything's unraveling in slow motion?? we are eating our way through the dread and I love that for us.

that ending though!!!! it went from tense to "oh mY GOD" real quick. i live for a good twist, and we are only just getting started.

Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed this. please interact (vote, comment, all that jazz), it helps me know if you liked this!

Also, let me know if y'all want me to keep putting two chapters out at 7PM or if you want me to stagger it (like, one is at 7, the next is at 7:15 or something)

[ masterlist ] [ wattpad ] [ ao3 ]

UNEDITED.

“THE CARROW GIRL. NEVER THOUGHT I’D SEE ______ again,” Jeno said, tilting his head just enough for the sunlight to catch in his eyes. His arms were crossed—casual, calculated, a man who knew exactly the kind of silence his presence could command. The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. Not really.

You stared at Sheriff Rawlins’ adopted son—Jeno Lee, all grown up and carved out of something sharper than memory. His skin was darker now, bronzed by summers you hadn’t been around to see. He’d filled out, too—broad-shouldered and muscled beneath a white, unbuttoned work shirt over a white tanktop, rolled to the elbows, veins catching the light. His body spoke of manual labor, long nights, and maybe a little sin.

And then there was the mullet—cut high and tight on the sides, jet-black and longer in the back, a style that would’ve looked ridiculous in anyone else’s hands. But on him? It was a warning. A dare. A promise.

His eyes met your—dark, molten, glowing gold in the afternoon sun. You swore your knees threatened to give out. There was something in that gaze that said he remembered it all. The sermons. The stolen glances. The unfinished business.

Your lips parted, but no words came.

“______?” he said again, this time quieter, as if he could feel something shifting in you. He took a step closer, one eyebrow raised. “Should I call Buck?”

You blinked your eyes. You shook your head. “Sorry, uh, no. There’s no need to call him.” You smiled up at Jeno. His eyebrow quirked upwards, hands dropping to his hips. He smiled, leaning away from you. 

“I’m here to turn your utilities back on.” Jeno said, slipping back into a cool, professional persona. You nodded, looking around the foyer before pressing your hand against your forehead. “What do you need?”

Jeno watched you, a half smile on his face. “Nothing, I’m just letting you know. Your water meter and electricity box are behind your house.”

Heat flared up your face. You nodded. “Oh…kay.” Jeno dipped his chin. “I’ll let you know when I’m finished.” You thanked him, shutting the door after he’d turned away. You moved through the house, straightening items on the kitchen counters, wiping down the layer of dust that had settled on the counter tops.

You threw away the paper towel, wiping your hands on your shorts. You hummed softly to yourself, looking around the kitchen before deciding to brave your old bedroom again. You figured that, since you'll have electricity and water again, your sheets were overdue for a wash. You walked to your door, twisted the doorknob and pushed it open. 

You gasped, staring at the destroyed room. The frame of the photo of you and Daddy was shattered, your face gouged out. You chewed on your lip, trying to stop the tears that welled in your eyes. The cross Daddy and Mama had given you was cracked and on the floor beside the shattered frame. The sheet over the mirror had been yanked off, and the mirror shattered. 

Your heart pounded against your ribcage.

You stood in the doorway of the room, unsure of what to do. Should you call Jeno inside, have him see if there was someone hiding in the closet, or anywhere else in the room? Should you call his father yourself? You chewed on the inside of your cheek. God, it’s probably nothing. An animal probably snuck in. 

“______?”

You screamed, spinning around. Jeno stared at you, frowning. “Are you…what the hell?” He brushed past you, storming into the room. Jeno looked around the room before walking towards the closet. He yanked it open, turning away from it when he saw no one was in there. He turned back towards you.

“Were you not going to say anything about this?” Jeno stormed towards you, grabbing your shoulders. You looked up at him, shaking your head. “It was probably a raccoon or something.”

Jeno scoffed. “______, a wild animal can’t do shit like that.”

You frowned. “Maybe they could.”

“You’re been gone for so long that you forgot that wild animals can’t shatter mirrors and pictures? A wooden cross?” She looked into the room, face flaring with heat.

“Come with me, ______, I’ll call Dad.”

Jeno didn’t give you a chance to protest. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you away from the room, and into the living room. He gently pushed you onto the couch beside Daddy’s chair. He pulled his phone from his pocket, tapping at the screen a couple of times before pressing it to his ear. Jeno pressed a fist to his hip, pacing back and forth in front of you.

“I’m at the old Carrow farmhouse. ______’s come back and it looks like there was a break-in.” Jeno spoke rapid-fire into the phone, humming his response. “Okay, just… hurry. I didn’t see any signs of a break in when I was out back, but there could have been some at another part of the house.”

With that, Jeno hung up. He looked at you.

“Dad said to get out of the house. If there is anyone here, who knows if they’re waiting to do something when I leave.”

You stared at him. “If that were the case, then they would have done something in the few minutes before you’d gotten here.” Jeno stared at her. “______, don’t argue about this. Maybe you caught them off guard. I don’t know, I’d rather not risk it.”

He held out a hand for you to take. You looked at it before blowing out a sigh, standing up. You walked into the foyer before turning towards him. “What if—”

“______, outside.”

You frowned at him, watching as he positioned himself in front of stairs so that you didn’t run up them. “Fine.” You grumbled, pulling open the door. Jeno followed you out, not bothering to shut the door. 

You carefully shut the screen door after he walked through, boots thudding against the old wood. “Porch’s seen better days.” Jeno remarked absently.

You hummed, crossing your arms and pressing your elbows into the wood of the railing. Your fingers twitched against your arms as you stared out at the desolate road. “So,” You stared, barely able to be heard over the hum of cicadas. “You randomly appearing back in my life mean something, or are you just passing through?” 

Jeno sighed, leaning on the railing beside you. He stared at the golden wheat across the road. “Nothin’ in this town means something more, ______.”

“That a threat, Sheriff’s Boy?”

“That a confession, Carrow Girl?”

 You turned to face Jeno, finding him already staring at you. In that moment, all the years you'd spent in Raleigh dissolved. They were two kids again, hiding behind thick trunked trees, whispering secrets to one another before you had to ride your bike home, trying to make it home in time for supper. Only now, Jeno’s voice was deeper, and yours cracked whenever you thought too much about everything that happened to you.

“Why not? Obviously this all has to mean something, or what good is it that we go through it?” 

Jeno stayed quiet, taking a step closer. Not quite touching you, but just enough to make the porch boards groan beneath them.

“I saw that photo,” he murmured. “The one that was stabbed through? In the trash?”

You tensed. You watched him warily.

“Someone don’t like the fact that you’re back home, ______. I think they’re trying to scare you out of here.” He reached out, brushing his fingers against the inside of your wrist. “Let me help you, ______, please.”

“Don’t touch me like that.” You whispered, but didn’t pull away.

“You don’t mean that.”

“You don’t know me anymore, Jeno.”

He stayed silent, staring at you like he wanted to—like he wanted to peel the past off of your skin with his bare hands, and hold what’s left.

Slowly, Sheriff Rawlins pulled into the driveway.

You stepped back, adjusting your shirt over your shorts. You walked around Jeno, taking a step off of the porch to wait for the Sheriff. He climbed out of his car, placing his hat on his head. “Hi there, ______.” Buck Rawlins smiled, hooking his thumbs in his front belt loops. Jeno walked over to them, standing with his hands in his pockets. “Back bedroom’s a mess, mirror shattered, frame broken, cross cracked in half. Didn’t see anyone in the house.”

Buck turned his attention to the house, squinting against the sun. “Alright, stay out here, I’ll do a sweep through.” You nodded your in thanks, turning and watching as the Sheriff called out into the house. There was no answer. He pulled open the screen door, and started his search. 

You rocked on your feet, waiting for Buck to finish his search. Jeno stayed silent, arms crossed. After a few more minutes, Buck came out of the house, shaking his head. “No one’s here, ______. It was probably just a prank, some kids wantin' to scare you.”

It didn't feel like a prank. You pursed your lips. “They ruined a photo I can never get back, Buck. That doesn’t feel like a funny prank.” 

Buck walked up to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Kids are cruel nowadays. Kids ‘round here have nothin’ better to do than be mean.”

You sighed. “Thank you, Buck. I appreciate it.” 

Buck smiled. “Give me a call if anything else happens.” He reaches into his shirt pocket, pulling out a card with his number on it. You took it, thanking him. Buck dipped his hat before going back to his car and following the roundabout out of the driveway. You turned towards Jeno. He stared down at you, an eyebrow lifted. 

“I’ll write down my number, so you have it as well. Just in case.” He pulled out a worn pad of paper and a pen, quickly writing down his number. He handed it back to you. “Seriously, call me if anything happens, ______.” 

You took the paper, your thumb brushing his. Electricity arched through you. You frowned, slipping the paper into your pocket. “Electricity and water’re turned back on.” Jeno called over his shoulder. “Thanks.” You called back. 

You didn’t watch him go. You didn’t want to. The evening was thick, breathing. If you stared after him too long, you might remember much more than you wanted to. 

Instead, you stepped onto the porch and walked into the house. 

The screen door slapped shut after you, the same way it had when Daddy was too tired to catch it. The sound echoed around the foyer, soft and final. 

Something was wrong.

You tensed, feeling the shift in the air, as if the entire house held its breath. The hum of the newly powered fridge was louder than it should’ve been, the tick of the clock in the living room dragging out seconds.

A small creak.

Upstairs.

You stood frozen in the middle of the foyer, blood beating the beats of war drums in her throat. 

The house had been empty, Sheriff Rawlins had cleared it himself. He’d said so.

What if he’d missed something. Did he go up the stairs?

Your hands shook as you took a step onto the staircase, careful not to make too much noise as you went up the steps, one hand gripping the bannister, the other pressed close to your stomach. As soon as you got to the landing, you froze.

Daddy’s office had been closed since the night he died, and no one was allowed in there.

But now, the door was open. 

Not wide, just enough for you to see the dying sunlight kiss the edge of his desk. On its surface, between the stacks of papers and envelopes, was a box.

Old. Carrow-old. With rusted hinges. You slowly walked into the study. You walked around the desk, running a hand over its smooth surface. The faint smell of cedar and dust and blood assaulted your nose.

You frowned, fingers trembling as you flipped the latch up, and opened the lid. You took a step back as you saw what was inside of the box.

Polaroids.

Not just of you—but of Mama, and Daddy. Some were old, their edges curled with age. But the one directly on top hadn’t been touched by age or many hands. 

It was of you, from that morning. Standing in front of the garage, fists pressed against your hips and a triumphant look on your face. And behind you, in the woods, was a figure. Just a blur, but still there.

“Oh my God,” You whispered, voice trembling. 

Silence weighed in on you, so when the crunch of gravel echoed through the office, you froze. Headlights slanted through the slats of the blinds, illuminating you as you stood there, staring at the car driving up your driveway. You slammed the lid of the box shut, shoving it beneath Daddy’s desk.

You rushed from the room, slamming the door. You took the steps two at a time, pulling open the door just as Buck slammed his door.

“Sheriff? What are you doing back out here?” You hoped that he couldn’t hear just how breathless you were.

He sighed. “Someone called to say that they saw someone lurkin’ around your house, ______. I’m just makin’ sure no one is here.” Your heart hammered in your chest. “Someone’s out here?” You leaned out of the door, looking towards the left and right. 

“That’s what I’m checkin’ for, Miss Carrow.” You nodded. Buck smiled. “Just stay inside.”

You nodded once more, shutting the door after Buck turned away from the door, the paper Jeno gave you burning in your pocket. You pulled it out, staring at the scrawled number and for if you ever need anything. 

You pulled out your phone, slowly starting to type in his number. Your thumb hovered over the green call button. You huffed out a breath before pressing the ringing phone to your ear.

He answered on the second ring.

“______?”

You paused. “How’d you know?” 

“You’re the only one I’d given my number to in a while.”

“Oh.” You looked out of the large windows of the living room. Buck walked around the property, hand resting on his gun. 

“Your dad’s back out here.” You said. 

“Oh? Why?” Jeno asked.

“Someone called, said that there was a person around the house.”

“Do you need me to come over?” There was rustling on his end.

“No, no. Your dad seems to have it covered. He’s coming back to the house now.” You walked back to the front door.

“Keep me on the phone.” Jeno said. 

“I will.” You responded absently, dropping your arm to your side. Buck stepped onto the porch. “I didn’t see anyone out here, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t someone before I got here.”

You blew out a breath. “Lock the doors, keep them locked if someone knocks. Don’t answer the door for anyone. I’ll have a couple of officers drive out here every hour to keep an eye on the place. With that being said, is there anything you need from me?”

“No, thank you, Buck.”

He offered a smile. “Night, ______.” He turned away from you. You shut the door, lifting the phone to your ear once more. 

“I’m coming out, ______. If someone’s lurking around your house...”

“No, Jeno. It’ll be okay. He said that he’s going to have officers driving past.” You argued.

“______, anything could happen in that time between officers. I’m coming over.” Jeno deadpanned. You sighed.

“I’m not going to change your mind, am I?”

“No. I’ll be there in fifteen.” Jeno hung up.

You looked at your phone, scoffing. You dropped your arm, tilting your head back, and shut your eyes. After a few moments, you opened your eyes and reached over, finding the light switch and turning on the light in the foyer. The light bulb flickered, and you worried it would go out. It turned on, illuminating the area. 

You sighed, shoulders slumping. You sat down onto the couch, head resting on the back of it. Your phone rang again, vibrating in your hand. You lifted it, frowning. Willa Dean was calling you. You answered.

“Willa—”

“—She never came over here after she got off work, and I’ve tried calling her about a thousand times, ______!” Willa Dean yelled into the phone. You pulled it away from you ear a little.

“Willa Dean, slow down. What’s going on?”

Willa Dean took a breath, sniffling down the line. “It’s Callie. She’s missing, ______.”

[ablissfae]

the last carrow girl ; lee jeno

[02]: GOD LOVES SMALL TOWNS

[ word count ] 2.6k

[ warnings ] stalking imagery, implied home invasion, mentions of fire/death, mild religious trauma, unsettling community behavior, grief + family loss, ominous/surreal elements, light panic attacks, unwanted physical touch, psychological tension.

[ author's note ] wheewww. had to take a break writing this one. me + churches = a pretty rough time.(I'm sorry if this one isn't all that good, I don't like writing churches all that much)

Alssssoooo..... JENO HAS BEEN INTRODUCED TO THE STORY!!! How we likin' him as a utility worker? Honestly, this was a random twist I added to this, it just felt like a perfect way to introduce him into the story.

Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed this, even though she's not as long as chapter one (about 3 to 400 words shorter). please interact (vote, comment, all that jazz), it helps me know if you liked this, and it also gives my brain a sense of accomplishment or something like that lol.

Also, let me know if y'all want me to keep putting two chapters out at 7PM or if you want me to stagger it (like, one is at 7, the next is at 7:15 or something)

[ masterlist ] [ wattpad ] [ ao3 ] [ Mama's car ]

UNEDITED.

THE NEXT MORNING, WHEN YOU opened your eyes because of the sun shining through the large windows, you knew something had been very wrong.

You pushed yourself from Daddy's chair, Mama's blanket slipping off of your shoulder. You'd slept nearly twelve hours—having fallen asleep shortly after seven in the afternoon. You rubbed your eyes, looking around. Your duffel bag sat, deflated, by the television, and your shoes were tossed, haphazardly on the floor in front of you.

And the large picture of you, asleep, pinned to the wall, a knife stabbed through  your sleeping face.

You shoved yourself out of the chair, shoving Mama's blanket off of your body. Any traces of sleep left your system as you stared at that photo. Your breath caught in your throat as you yanked the knife from the wall, dropping it to the top of the TV. 

You stared at the photo of yourself, sleeping in the chair. You squeezed the photo in between your hands before turning towards the kitchen, storming to throw the photo away. You stopped in front of the trash can, pausing to stare at the photo once more. You squeezed your eyes shut before crumpling the photo, tossing it into the trash can.

You turned away, rushing into the living room and grabbing a change of clothes. You went into the bathroom that was underneath the stairs, quickly washing up and pulling on your shorts, slipping your loose-fitting tank top over your head. You looked in the mirror, taking in the smattering of freckles across your cheekbones, your face already starting to turn red from the summer sun. 

You walked back into the living room, bending at the hips to rummage through your duffel bag to grab your wallet. You shoved it into your back pocket, followed by your phone, and walked out of the house.

You stood on the front porch, staring out at the mist hovering above the grassy hills. You huffed out a breath before stepping off of the sagging porch. You walked towards the separate garage, where you knew Mama’s Malibu had been parked. You pulled open the garage door, letting out a satisfied sigh. Thank God, Mama barely drove this thing around. 

You pulled open the driver’s side door, and sat down in the seat. You let out a small shout of excitement as you noticed the keys still in the ignition. You turned them, and the Malibu rumbled to a start. 

Mama’s favorite CD was playing softly through the radio. You rolled the windows down, pulling the seatbelt across your chest, and put the car in reverse. You backed out of the garage, humming along to the song as you put the car in drive, following the roundabout around and down the driveway. You turned onto the only road leading back into Red Hollow, the same one that drove past the Church where Daddy died.

You ignored it, keeping your right hand firmly on the wheel, the other one surfing the wind as you drove. Your hair danced in the wind flowing through the car. You slowed at a stop sign, glancing at an old, rusty pickup truck, and the old man sitting behind its wheel. He stared at you, weathered eyebrows lowered with silent judgement as you slowly drove through the intersection. 

You glanced at him, frowning, before shaking your head slightly. You ignored the man, and pulled into the electric company. You threw the car into park, turning it off before pulling the keys out of the ignition. You reached over the console, grabbing your wallet that you'd thrown into the seat before driving off. An old bell chimed as you pushed opened the door. A friendly looking woman smiled in your direction.

“Well, if my eyes don’t deceive me, it’s the Carrow girl! ______, right?” She smiled, hooking a loc of curly hair behind her ear. “What can I do ya for?” 

You nodded your head, stepping up to the counter. You read the woman’s nametag—Sheila. “I just need to turn the power back on at the house. How much do you need?” Sheila, still chirpy despite it being nearly eight-thirty in the morning, clicked her tongue as she typed on an old looking computer, and pressed a few buttons. 

“Thirty-five dollars, please.” Sheila answered, folding her hands on the counter in front of her. You pulled out your wallet. “Do you take credit cards?” 

Sheila nodded her head. “There’s just a two dollar processing fee.” 

You pulled out your card, holding it out for Sheila to take. 

She took it, turning back to the computer, starting to type the information in. “I guess it’s safe to assume that you’re also goin’ to need the water turned back on?” 

You nodded your head. “Is the water company still in the same building in town square?” Sheila quickly looked at her before shaking her head. “Oh, no, Darlin’. It—” 

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

You tensed, glancing over your shoulder. Daddy’s protégé, Pastor Murphy, stood in the doorway, wearing a dark button up with darker slacks. He held out his hands. “______ Carrow! You’ve grown up.” 

You shot him an awkward smile. “Haven’t changed much.” You said quietly. Pastor Murphy appeared beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder. You fought the urge to shrug it off. Sheila’s look turned sympathetic as she stared at them. She held your card out for you to take.

“The water company is right down the road, in a red brick building. The sign’s out front.” Sheila said, turning her attention to Pastor Murphy. “What can I do for you?” 

You took the distraction to duck away from Pastor Murphy’s hand. You shoved your card into your wallet, ignoring the vibration of your phone as your rushed from the building, quickly ducking into Mama’s car. You slipped lower into the seat, using the fact that a large truck had parked next to you as an advantage.

When Pastor Murphy didn’t appear beside the car, you blew out a breath. You straightened in the seat and started the car. You reversed from your spot, ignoring the feeling of someone’s gaze burning into the side of your face as you drove towards the water company. 

This time, there had been no incident. you ran in, paid another thirty-five dollars, and was on your way back out to the house with the promise that people would be out in a couple of hours to complete the services. 

You, absently tapping your thumbs against the steering wheel, noticed a group of cars in the Church’s parking lot. It had been a split-second decision to pull into the parking lot, just to see the changes they had made after the fire. 

You parked the car and turned it off, climbing out of it. Slamming the door behind you, you walked towards the wooden doors, the hall light shining through the stained glass with thick crosses on them. You hummed softly.

“Hello?” Someone called out. You looked into the office right outside of Daddy’s old one. Willa Dean sat there, a pencil gripped in her fist. “Oh! Hi there, ______!” She smiled widely. Willa Dean dropped the pencil, and shoved away from the desk in front of her.

“Come to see the new church?” 

You nodded your head. Willa Dean waved you farther into the office. “Not much has changed. They liked the way the old one was laid out, I guess.” 

You lifted your shoulder, wrapping your arms around your waist. You looked around the room, eyes catching on the door leading to the office.

“That’s Pastor Murphy’s office now.” Willa Dean sounded apologetic. “If it were anyone but him, I’d let you go in there.” You fought the shudder that ran down your spine, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Yea, I understand.” Willa Dean laughed. “Come, they’re havin’ a little get-together in the Sanctuary. Some strange welcome committee service, or whatever these little old ladies want to call it.” Willa Dean shrugged, brushing past you. She shoved open the doors of the Sanctuary, cutting off the women’s prayers.

The one holding the bible glared towards them, her thick rimmed glasses low on her nose. “Willa Dean Thatcher, I asked you—”

“I know, Miss Flannagan, but the lady of the hour has blessed us with her presence, by the good graces of God.” Willa Dean made a show of pressing her hands together and bowing slightly, eyes shut in false serenity. 

You bit your lip to stop the laugh that threatened to burst from your chest. The woman—Miss Flannagan—sighed, shutting her eyes before turning her attention to you. Her lips parted. “______,” She said after a moment. “Come join us.” 

You glanced at Willa Dean before walking over to the group of women, taking a seat in one of the pews. Your breathing picked up as you stared at the Sanctuary. Memories of many Sunday mornings sitting in the front pew beside your Mama, watching Daddy preach his sermons. You remembered Mama pinching your thigh lightly whenever you and the Sheriff’s boy were a little too distracted for her liking.

You pulled yourself from your racing mind, focusing instead on the group of women you'd joined. You barely heard what they’d said before they were bowing their heads, clasping their hands in prayer.

Miss Flannagan led the prayer. “Lord, grant us sight in the shadows, and strength in the silence.”

You froze, hands clasping tighter together. This prayer was the last one your Daddy’d said before the church caught fire with him in it. “Let the blood remember its promise, and the bones not lie,” Miss Flannagan continued, oblivious. “We gather in Your name, as we did before, to bind what was broken, to hush what screams beneath the soil. Bless ______ returned to us, and her duty. May she not wander far from You again. In Jesus’ name, amen.” 

Miss Flannagan and the other ladies jumped in, speaking among themselves, wholly ignoring your presence. 

They were just like everyone else in this town. They blamed you for leaving them. Maybe they even blamed you for the death of their beloved Preacher Carrow.

They didn’t like you. You were just ______ Carrow. You were just Ezekial Carrow’s daughter. 

There was nothing you could do right.

“Thank you for having me, Miss Flannagan, but I must really get going. I’ve much to do at home.” You stood up, hoping that they didn’t hear the tremble in your voice. Miss Flannagan turned to you—was that a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes?—pressing a hand to her chest. “It was so good to see you, ______! Please, come back and join us for a sermon.”

You gave her a tight smile, nodding your head. You pulled away, rushing from the Sanctuary. You happened to glance at the doors as you passed, pausing once more. 

Taped to the doors was a white sheet of paper, blank besides the words she returns, and still the Lord is merciful. 

You turned away from the doors, pressing your back against the wall, taking a couple of gulps of air. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, trying to escape the panic you felt slithering through your system. You shut your eyes, counting your breaths before you went into Willa Dean’s office.

She looked up, flicking her freshly braided blonde hair from her face. “______, are they finished there?” Willa Dean leaned over in her chair, trying to see across the carpeted hall. You shook your head. “No, I… have a lot of things to do back at home. Workers are coming over to turn the electricity and water back on.”

Willa Dean smiled, pushing up from her chair. “That’s wonderful, ______! Maybe after Callie gets off work, we can run up to Whitesburg, go to the IGA there and stock up that kitchen.” She walked around the desk, standing in front of you. You nodded, offering a grateful smile. “That would be wonderful, Willa Dean, thank you.”

“Do you need a ride back to the house?” Willa Dean asked, leaning over the desk to grab her keys. You shook your head. “No. It seemed like luck was on my side, Mama’s Chevy was still in the garage, so I’m driving that.”

Willa Dean gave her a small smile before dropping her keys back onto the desk. “That’s good. Callie gets off work around three this afternoon. Call you when she gets off?” 

“Sure.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket, unlocking it and pulling up the contacts app. You held it out for Willa Dean to take. 

She did, quickly shooting herself a text so that she had your number. “It’s all set then. If you don’t mind, I’m also going to give it to Callie.”

“That’s fine.” You said. Willa Dean smiled widely. “I’ll see you later.” You turned, walking out of the office. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a familiar face. You lifted your eyes, meeting the familiar, deep blue of Daddy’s eyes. It was a memorial painting, you guessed. Something either the community or Mama had commissioned to hang up here in remembrance. A hall table was placed beneath it, holding three lit, white candles. 

You stood in front of the memorial, staring into Daddy’s immortalized face, an uncharacteristic small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. You took a couple of breaths, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Miss you, Daddy. Every day.” You murmured, turning away from the memoriam. You reached into the front pocket of your shorts, making sure you had the keys to the car. You took the steps two at a time, walking towards the Malibu. You opened the door, climbed in, and turned it on. You went to put the car into reverse when you noticed the person standing across the street, staring at you.

You froze, watching the person watch you. Your heart renewed its quick beating, and your breath quickened. You forced yourself to buckle the seatbelt, and put the car in reverse. You backed out of the parking spot, taking your eyes off of the person for a few seconds. When you turned back around, putting the car in drive, the person was gone.

You turned the radio off, and tightened your grip on the steering wheel. You pulled out of the parking lot, keeping your eyes forward, just in case you saw that strange person again.

“Get it together, ______. You’re going to be here for a month, tops. Roughly thirty more days. Just long enough to find Mama, or finalize any bids for the property…”

You continued speaking softly to yourself as you pulled into the driveway of the house. You parked the car back into the garage, making sure you took the keys with you.

You pushed open the door to the house, placing the keys onto the table beside the dead flowers. You walked into the living room, sitting in Daddy’s chair once more. You stayed there until a white truck with the electric company’s emblem turned into the driveway. You forced yourself into a calm state, taking a few even breaths before you walked towards the door to greet the worker. 

You forced a smile onto your face as you swung the door open. “Hell—Jeno?” 

[ablissfae]

the last carrow girl ; lee jeno

[ posting schedule ]

at this point, i'm planning for 2 chapters every sunday @ 7PM (might stagger it here, just so it's not overwhelming, i'll need yall to let me know!) i realized i never said anything about when I'm posting, so that's that.

wattpad: chapters 2 and 3 are scheduled for 7 PM CDT.

ao3 will also be updated at the same time, with chapters 2 and 3.

[ablissfae]

THE LAST CARROW GIRL IS ON AO3 NOW!!!!!!!

read it here!

[ablissfae]

the last carrow girl ; lee jeno

[01]: COME BACK HOME, CARROW GIRL.

[ word count ] 3,000k

[ warnings ] heavy themes of grief and missing persons, the return to a childhood home after trauma, community ostracization, southern religiosity and spiritual pressure, familial death, mentions of war and a dead brother, dissociation, emotional exhaustion.

[ author's note ] oh. my. god. you will not believe how long it took me to plan this novel, come up with the chapter title, AND actually write the damn thing! (needless to say, strangers by ethel cain will always and forever be stuck in my head). Anyways, this is also on wattpad! However, I changed the name from Y/N (_____ -- this) to Vera Mae.

And another note (y'all about to learn something about me that you definitely didn't ask for) this takes place in a fictional town called Red Hollow, Kentucky. (which is basically in the Eastern side of the state) (ya know, the state I know way too much about because I'm from there).

It is found in a very real county (Letcher County) and there are mentions of very real cities (Whitesburg). Red Hollow is one of those unincorporated communities in Letcher County (but it is fictional, so you can't actually go there lol)

Also, no Jeno just yet, but he'll be coming in soon. So excited for him and Vera Mae to start interacting, that's gonna be... an interesting time.

So, I hope y'all enjoy this southern gothic horror jeno fic! and, as always, interacting helps me know that y'all like this! (so, please like this, reblog, comment, do what y'all do lol)

[ masterlist ] [ wattpad ] [ ao3 ] [ truck mentioned ] [ the farmhouse ]

UNEDITED.

COMING BACK HOME WENT AGAINST EVERYTHING you said you’d never do again—the top of that list being not returning to Red Hollow. The only reason you’d even bought a roundtrip ticket at the Greyhound bus station was because your Mama had vanished.

Mama was gone.

You climb off of the bus, headphones blasted a comforting song to combat the nervous energy that refused to leave your system. There was one thing you’ll always know: home is the heaviest thing you'll ever carry. You slip the strap of your duffel bag over your shoulder as you step onto the bus platform—which had only been a patch of gravel off of the main road with a ticket stand off to the side. A large, crudely painted sign said WELCOME TO RED HOLLOW! The letters were chipping, flaking off of the sun bleached wood. 

This had been the first time since your Daddy's funeral that you’d been back. 

You stare at the desolate town—run down buildings, small mom-and-pop shops with everything you'd ever need. You immediately wanted to turn around, climb back onto the Greyhound bus, and return home. 

Instead, you slipped your phone out of your pocket, unlocking in and pressing the phone icon. The voicemail stared up at you, taunting your with the words automatically transcribed onto the screen: Come home. She's gone.

You pursed her lips, locking your phone and shoved it back into your pocket before walking away from the bus stop. You looked around before starting on the familiar path to the farmhouse—home. 

The air felt thick, heavy with something you couldn't quite place your finger on. Something pressed against your chest, making it nearly impossible for your to breathe. You sucked in a deep breath, forcing your lungs to expand.

That did nothing to stop the heavy feeling on your chest.

You walked past the gas station, an old Chevy truck pulled up to a pump. A man leaned against the bed of the truck, watching you walk down the street over his shoulder. You quickly looked away, picking up your speed.

Many people stopped as you passed, staring at the returning Preacher's daughter—the girl who they hadn't seen since your daddy was buried five years prior. They dipped their chin in greeting. "Carrow." Many said, unkind. 

You knew they believed that you had abandoned them. How could Reverend Ezekiel Carrow's daughter leave after his death? You ducked your head, picking up the pace of your steps. You should have known that people staring was something you’d never be able to avoid.

Despite it being only eight in the morning, sweat was starting to roll down your spine. You huff, swiping at your forehead. You adjust the duffel bag on your shoulder when someone called your name.

"______? ______ Carrow? Is that you?"

You tense, stopping. You glanced to your left, where the girl had called your name. The blonde woman smiled widely, walking towards you. "______, it's me—Callie Montgomery!" 

You offer a tense smile. "Callie! Hi! How have you been?" 

Callie beamed as she spoke. "I've been wonderful! Wonderin' where you'd run off to in such a hurry after your daddy's funeral." You press your lips into a thin line. "I moved to Raleigh, been living there ever since."

Callie nodded awkwardly, a tense smile on her lips. "How'd'ya like it?" You lifted a shoulder. "It's okay."

Callie cleared her throat before pulling you over to the small cafe she'd been sitting at. "C'mere, there's someone you should meet!" You open your mouth to decline, try to tell Callie that you just wanted to go home, rest for most of the day, then start looking for leads on your Mama.

"Willa Dean! This is ______, that one girl I was talkin' about the other day? How strange that it is that she'd show up only a couple days later!" Callie laughed, looking between the two of them. 

Willa Dean looked up, piercing blue eyes staring at you as she took you in. "You look so much like your Mama, ______. It's a shame that she's missin'."

You frowned, wetting your lips before speaking. "Does anyone have an idea where she's at?" 

Callie and Willa Dean turned to each other before shaking their heads. "No, we're sorry, ______. Wish we knew something, but... even the police don't know nothing about her whereabouts." Callie pulled you into the empty seat, wiping at her eyes. 

"It's so nerve wracking that Mrs. Carrow disappeared!" Callie dropped her hand to the table, holding your hand. Willa Dean took a sip of her iced coffee. "Would you like a ride to your farmhouse, ______? Callie and I won't mind takin' you. Plus, it'd be better than walkin' in this heat."

You smiled your thanks, picking up your duffel bag. Willa Dean picked up her iced coffee, pulling out a set of keys from her pocket. She tossed her hair out of her face before waving a hand at you and Callie.

"C'mon. One of y'all're gonna have to ride in the bed." Willa Dean didn't wait for a response before rounding the sun bleached wood separating the cafe's sitting area from the empty parking lot.

"I call the bed!" Callie called, grabbing your arm and pulling you away. You gripped the strap of your duffel bag, the soles of your worn down converse kicking up dust from the dirt. Callie dropped your hand just as you both walked up to an old '67 blue Chevy truck. 

"It's my Daddy's. Said I could borrow it for the day." Willa Dean leaned out of the window, pulling her hair back. "Climb in, toss your bag in the back." Callie held her hand out from her place in the bed of the truck. "I'll make sure it doesn't fly away." She winked.

You pursed you lips to hide your smile, slipping the strap off of your shoulder, dropping it into Callie's hand. You rounded the truck, yanking open the door and climbing in. The windows had already been rolled down, allowing the cool breeze to flow through the cab of the truck. Willa Dean smiled at you before putting the truck into drive and pulling out of the parking lot. The morning sun was already beating down on Red Hollow, casting the town into a hazy light that forced you to squint. 

This was your punishment for going against your promise.

"You're quiet. Not glad to be home?" Willa Dean called over the engine of the truck. You turned towards her, lifting a shoulder. "It's not that, it's..."

"You thought that you'd gotten out of here and now you're back?" Willa Dean summed. 

You nodded."That, exactly."

The back window behind them slid open and Callie stuck her head into the cab. "Whatcha talkin' about?"

Willa Dean glanced at Callie, adjusting her grip on the steering wheel. "Whether or not ______ is glad to be back."

Callie scoffed. "You know she hates it, Willa. She'd rather stay in her fancy town of Raleigh." You chewed the inside of your cheek, staring out of the windshield. "There's nothing wrong with that, ______. It sounds like you've been gone for five years, you made a home out there." Willa Dean said, glancing towards you. 

"I only came back because of Mama's disappearance. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't do something to find her." 

Callie and Willa Dean fell into an awkward silence. You swallowed thickly before looking out of the window. The girls rode in silence for the rest of the way, until Willa Dean slowed down, turning onto the Carrow farmhouse's winding driveway.

"Holy shit." Willa Dean puffed out, looking over at You. "I've always heard about how beautiful this place was, never seen it with my own two eyes until now."

You lifted a shoulder, turning back towards the house. It looked just like how it did when you left, just older: Mama's once prized porch was starting to sag in some places, the front screen door was swinging on its hinges, as if the last person who'd left the house couldn't have bothered to close it properly. The white paint on the siding was chipping, revealing the dark wood of the slates below. 

This had not been the house you’d grown up in. It was not the house you had left.

Something must have been bothering Mama long before she'd disappeared.

Willa Dean pulled around the roundabout in front of the farmhouse, the gravel crunching beneath the tires of the truck.

"Here you are. Would you like for us to come inside with you?" Willa Dean looked at you, an eyebrow quirked upwards. "Ooh! I'd love to!" Callie called out. She pulled herself from her place through the window, grabbed your duffel bag, and hoped out of the bed of the truck. She nodded slightly. "Sure. There's no telling if someone had snuck in here. It looks like someone hasn't been here in years."

"It's because no one has been here. Mrs. Carrow's been gone for a good long while." Callie slapped her hands against the door, leaning in through the window. She frowned at the furrow of your brows. "You didn't know? I thought that's..."

"No, I didn't know. I got a voicemail a few days ago telling me to come back here, that she was gone." Callie backed away from the door, letting you push open the door. Willa Dean leaned against the bed of the truck. "Damn, I'm sorry. That explains the shock on your face when you saw this place, though."

You dipped your chin, moving between Callie and Willa Dean, taking a careful step onto the porch, making sure you don't step wrong and fall through the wood. You reached out, tried the knob of the front door. It swung open with little resistance. Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at the foyer of the house. 

The stairs hadn't been swept, and your Mama's favored cardinal flowers and frostweed had wilted, brown and dry. 

Your hand dropped to your side as you stared at the arrangement of dead flowers. 

Callie was right. 

Mama had been gone for a while.

You stepped into the house, taking a deep breath. The barest traces of Mama's lemon scented cleared hung in the air. The back of your eyes burned as you looked into the living room, blankets Mama's had crocheted were folded over the back of the couches, your Daddy's chair still in its place, turned towards the box TV they'd refused to upgrade.

You slowly walked into the living room, looking at the photographs still hanging on the walls—family portraits of you, Mama and Daddy, and you older brother who'd gone off to war and died there.

You looked away, looking at another photo. It was of you and Mama, standing out back beside the clothesline. Mama was smiling down at you while you were staring at your Daddy as he took the photo.

"Oh wow. I always wondered what it looked like in here." 

You turned around, heart hammering. Callie was standing in the foyer, looking around the living room. "Mrs. Carrow knew how to decorate." Callie looked towards you, smiling widely. She turned her attention to the photos hanging on the walls.

"You had a brother?" Callie asked, heading towards the family portrait you’d been looking at. You stayed silent for a long beat, the cicadas the only noise between them. 

Willa Dean walked in, shutting the door behind her. "No need in letting those bugs in here." She smiled. She looked around the living room before heading towards Daddy's seat.

"Don't sit there!" You yelped, holding a hand out. A tense silence settled over them. Callie turned away from the photos, and Willa Dean stared at you, eyes wide as she slowly moved from the chair. "I'm... sorry, ______." 

You shut your eyes, shoving your hair off of your face. "No, I'm sorry. It's just... that's Daddy's chair and he didn't like it when others sat in it."

Willa Dean's breathed out. "Oh." She nodded in understanding. "Sorry, ______." She said again.

You waved your hand. "You didn't know." A low hum started in her ears, radiating through her body. You slumped into the couch, leaning your head back. You had to keep it together. You couldn't break down in front of Willa Dean and Callie.

The couch lowered beside her. "We'll find her, ______." She opened an eye, staring at Callie. You sighed, adjusting yourself in your seat before speaking. "I really hope so."

Willa Dean sat in the couch across from them, studying her. You leaned your head back once more, staring up at the ceiling. Above you was your parent's room. You lowered your eyebrows before shoving yourself off of the couch, walking up the steps. You stood on the landing, staring at the door leading to your parents bedroom. You ignored Callie and Willa Dean as they called your name, slowly making their way up the steps. 

You breathed deeply before turning the knob and pushing the door open. Your heart sank.

The bed hadn't been made. 

You stood in the doorway, staring at the room. Mama never left the house without making the bed. She'd taught you that since before you had been able to do it. You walked into the room, slumping onto the bed. She ran a hand over the pillow, remembering the smell of Mama's perfume.

Willa Dean was the first to appear in the doorway.

"______," she said softly. She looked around the room, before her gaze settled back onto you. 

You ignored the girls standing there.

"Please go," You said, voice breaking. "I want to be alone right now." 

"______." Callie tried. 

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. You turned your head away from them.

The floorboards creaked as they turned away from the room. You waited until you heard the front door open and shut before looking towards the door, waited until you heard the rumble of Willa Dean's truck fade into the distance before climbing back down the stairs. 

You were alone, for the first time ever, in your family home.

You walked back into the living room, staring at your Daddy's chair before slowly lowering yourself into it. You reached down, untying and loosening the laces of your converses before pulling them off. You tossed them away from you, and pulled your feet into the chair, curling into yourself. You pulled one of Mama's blankets over your body. Tears rolled down your cheeks as her scent enveloped you, a long awaited hug from a ghost.

"Where'd you go, Mama?" You asked nobody, staring at a spot on the floor.

No one answered.

You sighed, pulling the blanket up underneath your chin, resting your eyes.

The creaking upstairs caused you to hold your breath. “______.” Someone whispered. 

You shoved out of the chair, breathing heavily as you looked around the room, searching for anyone who could have said your name.

“______…” the person whispered again. You rushed from the room, ignoring the screaming voice in your head, begging you to stop running in the house. You remember too many days getting punished for running, accidentally knocking something over or just simply causing a ruckus in the house. 

You dashed through the kitchen and dining room, barely slowing down to look at the place you and Mama had spent time together. You went down a short hallway off of the dining room. You shoved open the door to your old bedroom.

It looked the same as when you left it five years ago. The cross your Mama had gifted you for your birthday when you were ten still hung above the bed, a photo of you and Daddy stood in a frame on your nightstand. The only change you’d seen was the white sheet draped over the mirror on your dresser. Your shoulders slumped. 

You must have nodded off, dreaming of someone calling your name just now. You ran a hand through your hair, pressing a fist against your hip. Tears threatened to spill down your cheeks as you turned away from your room, shutting the door softly. You walked into the dining room, shoulders slumping further.

Your Daddy's bible was missing from its place in the middle of the dining room table. 

At this point, you had no more energy to be upset. Your Mama must have put it away after you left, unable to look at it without her husband, daughter, and son.

You walked back into the living room, taking your seat back in your Daddy's chair. You curled back underneath Mama's blanket, despite the heat surrounding you. You’d have to go back into town tomorrow, get the electricity turned back on.

For now, you’d stay where you were, with barely any energy to move. 

"What went wrong, Eli? What happened to us?" You looked at the family portrait hanging on the wall—Mama, Daddy, Elijah, and you, all staring, all watching you start to crack underneath the pressure of being the last Carrow.

Underneath their watchful gazes, you fell into a fitful sleep.

[ablissfae]

I NUST READ THE JENO FIC SUMMARY AND OH GODDDD J CANT WAIT!!!!!

eeeek!!! me either!!!! the first chapter is scheduled to come out today at 7pm CDT!!!!

[ablissfae]

THE LAST CARROW GIRL CHAPTER 1. JULY 13TH @ 7PM

it's going onto wattpad too, same username, same title lol check it out there too??

[ablissfae]

the last carrow girl ; lee jeno

[ summary + warnings ]

[ masterlist ]

[ author's note ] how fitting is it that i'm finalizing this post while it's starting to storm and there are those loud frogs echoing through my window? very? thought so lol. anyways, y'all this a heavy one. it's like i said hmmmm, yes trauma and ran away with the entire jar (one of those big jars that hold like, a gallon or two of whatever drink you put into it)

summary & warnings below the cut.

They say the fire that claimed the church was an accident. That Reverend Carrow died faithful. That his daughter left town to escape her grief.

But you knew better.

Raised behind the pulpit, shaped by scripture and secrets, you were meant to be the next Voice of Red Hollow—a role passed through blood, whispered through women, sealed beneath the mountain. But when the flames came, you ran. Left behind your faith, your family, and the boy who knew too much.

Now, years later, your mother is missing. And the town that once called you chosen greets your return with empty smiles and locked doors. The chapel's been rebuilt. The mine sealed again. But something beneath the ground is stirring.

Jeno Lee—the town's golden boy turned quiet enforcer—hasn't forgotten what you saw that night. Or what you buried together.

As the land sours, the cult whispers, and the mountain groans in its sleep, you are forced to confront the legacy you left behind. A legacy soaked in prophecy, sacrifice, and a god that demands blood.

You were born to be their salvation. You might become their reckoning.

The last Carrow girl has come home. And Red Hollow won't survive you twice.

religious trauma, cults hidden under the guise of a church, death of a parent (off-page), implied and off-screen child abuse and grooming, missing girls, emotional manipulation from authority figures, gaslighting and small-town paranoia, complicated grief, mild to moderate body horror, symbolic blood, fire, and teeth imagery, toxic intimacy, obsession, mental health topics such as, but not limited to dissociation, PTSD, anxiety, small-town isolation, being watched/targeted, generational violence. heavy on the religious trauma, tho, yall be careful!!

[ablissfae]

the last carrow girl ; lee jeno

"I tried to be good 

am I no good?

am i no good?"

—i. gibson girl, ethel cain. ii. poison & wine, the civil wars. iii. lessons of the fire, bishop briggs. iv. love shot, exo. v. i bet on losing dogs, mitski. vi. youth, daughter. vii. a house in nebraska, ethel cain. viii. lovers in the night, seori ft. eaj. vix. 8 (circle), bon iver. x. when the party's over, billie eilish. xi. sun bleached flies, ethel cain. xii. sorry, heart, nct dream. xiii. fade into you, mazzy star. xiv. devil i know, allie x. xv. house song, searows. xvi. to be alone with you, sufjan stevens. xvii. i can't decide, call me loop. xix. i am not a woman, i'm a god, halsey. xx. in the pines, roses & revolutions. xxi. the water is wide, fay wolf. xxii. salvation from the dawn, will bates. xxiii. the gift of the rose, isabella summers and elise mcqueen. xxiv. strangers, ethel cain.

[ spotify ] [ masterlist ]

[ablissfae]

the last carrow girl

[ a lee jeno fanfic masterlist ]

[ pinterest board ] [ about posting schedules ]

[ soundtrack ] [ summary + warnings ] [ wp ] [ ao3 ]

[01] come back home, carrow girl

[02] god loves small towns

[03] the carrow house still breathes

[ablissfae]

working on a southern gothic cult fic for jeno which takes in a state i'm a little too familiar with lmao

[ablissfae]

welcome to the crypt

— a fic archive full of longing, rot, and unholy thirst. here’s where to find everything i’ve written, screamed about, or summoned from the void

🩸 ✦ MASTERLIST 📖 all completed & ongoing fics live here: → blood tainted skies; hwang hyunjin [wp] [ao3] [tumblr]

→ treaties in ice; choi yeonjun [wp] [ao3] [tumblr]

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🖤 ✦ ABOUT ME / INTRO POST → [get to know neve]

❝ fall in the archives of an all-consuming devotion. ❞

[ablissfae]

dream a little dream of me...

[see also; a blog introduction]

🕯️ 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞 ⋆ 24 ⋆ fic writer ⋆ saint of slow burns 🕯️ ✦ welcome to my crypt ✦

i write fanfiction and pretend that i'm in a different world most of the time.

it's me and my macbook against the world.

💌 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒂𝒈𝒆.🕸️

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