1995
She had cried herself to sleep that night, barely able to tell her parents what happened before she broke down again. They were both upset for her. Her parents, Jennifer and Michael Avery, had really liked Edward, he was charming and polite, exactly what they wanted for their daughter.
Edward kept true to his word though; they were gone the next day. Claire's father drove to the Cullen's isolated house with the intention of having a serious word with Edward, only to look through the expansive windows and find the furniture covered in white sheets, the door locked and a single envelope on the front step. It was address to Claire, so he picked it up, took it home and hid it away in a drawer to share with her when she could handle it.
The next few weeks were a blur, she rarely left her room, she barely ate, she couldn't sleep through the night. She had taken a break from her job and she was lucky enough that school was on a break, so she didn't have to worry about falling behind. She was haunted by nightmares; well, one nightmare that would repeat over and over again.
She would be standing in a cold, dark room, a small sliver of moonlight coming through an ornate window up high. The light fell on a figure kneeling in front of her, their head bowed so she couldn't see their face. She had no control of her body when she would step forward, taking their head firmly in her hands before she ripped it from their shoulders.
The murmur of voices in the shadows behind her would start, praising her in soothing tones. The voices hushed her internal screaming, calmed the horror of what she had done. Until she lifted the dismembered head into the light, the familiar golden, empty eyes staring back at her in horror. Edward, she had killed Edward.
Then she would wake up in her room, tucked into her own bed, sweat sticking her hair to her skin and tears rolling down her face. She wouldn't get back to sleep after that, no matter how exhausted she was from the from crying she was doing.
She didn't understand the dream, she didn't hate Edward, she didn't want to hurt him. Why would her subconscious make her kill him, and why did he let her do it? Who did the voices belong to? They were always soft, caring and comforting. They meant something to her, but she didn't know what. Everything was so vivid, she could feel his cold, marble skin in her hands, she could feel the breaths on the back of her neck from the voices whispering behind her. It felt too real.
When it was finally time to return to school, the news of the Cullen's leaving had spread, and she was met with sympathetic looks from her fellow students and a few teachers. Everyone could see how in love the couple were. Claire managed to get herself back into a routine, waking up early with go for a walk, head to school, go to ballet after classes, go home and complete her homework and assignments. She had even managed to squeeze in a few shifts at the café again. The pain was dulling, but she didn't think it would ever go away.
Her father had eventually given her the envelop he found at the Cullen's house. There was two short letters inside, each written on the back of a photograph of them together, one from Rosalie and one from Jasper and Alice. Rosalie's handwriting was elegant and beautiful, just like her.
Claire,
I am so sorry that my stupid brother is making us do this. I tried to convince Carlisle it was a bad idea to leave, I was outvoted. I wish I could keep in contact with you, even secretly, but we both know Edward would have none of it.
I hope I see you again one, maybe walking down the street when you're much older, with your own family. Maybe you could tell them about Auntie Rose, tell them how much I would have loved to meet them.
Again, I am sorry that this is what we have to do. Please know that I love you, you've really have changed my existence.
-Rosalie
Jasper had clearly written the note from him and Alice, it was neat, clear to read and immaculately spaced.
Dearest Claire,
We regret not saying goodbye to you in person, but we know you would not have wanted to see us. I am forever thankful for your friendship, your kindness and your patience. You are remarkable person, Sunflower. We wish you nothing but the best for your future, and we hope that you can move forward with your life.
Alice says she has a feeling we will see you again one day. I can only hope she is right. I cannot wait to see what an amazing woman you have grown into. You're going to make us all proud.
Sincerely,
Jasper and Alice
Claire had cried reading them, but she was grateful she got some form of closure from her friends. She couldn't hold it against them, they were a tight-knit coven, more like a family, and wouldn't let one human girl get in between them.
﹌﹌﹌
Two months after Edward left, Claire was celebrating her 18th birthday with some of her classmates at a bowling alley. She was actually having fun; it was the best she had felt since he left. Her parents were supportive of her, encouraging her to make new friends and letting her slack slightly in her cores so she could spend time with them and fit in her school work.
She was back to studying at her full capacity, back to top of the class. She'd been offered a scholarship to a college in San Francisco, her parents had been so proud of her. She was still deciding, considering a gap year to help heal.
After saying goodbye to everyone she was bowling with, she drove home, singing alone to some newly released pop song on the radio. It was nothing like the calm classical music Edward always played, but maybe that's why she enjoyed it; it was something he wouldn't like.
She was finding herself doing things he was disapprove of because it made her feel in control again. She now wore her hair up in a ponytail because he always liked it when it was down. She started wearing lipstick and mascara because he always told her she was beautiful without it.
When she pulled up in the driveway, she noticed no lights were on inside. Which was odd, her parents promised they would be waiting up for her so they could share some late-night birthday cake. They both worked at their local primary school, Michael as an English teacher and Jennifer as an art teacher, and sometimes had to stay late to finish grading papers. They didn't like bringing their work home with them, they thought home was for family, not work.
Claire ignored the twinge of worry as she slowly made her way to the front door, her head down and she dug in her handbag for her housekeys.
"Miss," a voice said suddenly, causing her to jump with an embarrassing yelp and clutch at her chest. Two men were standing in front of her on the front porch, one just a few years older than her and one older, his hair greying. The second thing she noticed was their clothes; they were both wearing police uniforms.
"Jesus, you scared the hell out of me," she complained after taking a moment to compose herself, "how can I help you?"
"We're sorry Miss Avery. I'm Detective Malloy and this is Officer Whitman. We should talk inside" the older man told her white he flashed her his ID badge, his face solemn. Whitman looked like he would rather be anywhere else.
"Um, sure," she muttered, the feeling of worry taking hold of her completely this time. She finally managed to fish her keys from her bag and eventually unlocked the door after a few failed attempts. She flicked the hallway light on, making her way towards the living room. The two men were following her, after having shut the door behind themselves. She turned the light on and took a seat on the couch.
Malloy took a seat across from her in her father's recliner while Whitman stood awkwardly behind him looking around the room at all of the photos of her family that lined the walls.
"Miss Avery..." the detective started, "Claire, earlier tonight there was an accident."