Woman of the Hour // volturi kings

02. crashing down

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.