Hurts Like Hell {Rosalie Hale}

1

The kind of loss Odette suffers is hard for people to wrap their heads around, and at first, she isn't fully aware of everything she's lost. She knew that her family was gone, she couldn't forget that, but she hadn't come out of the accident unscathed either. And Odette didn't just get better; she wasn't magically healed as she woke up. She looked like she'd been through a war zone; barely an inch of her smooth brown skin wasn't marked or bruised. But it was her right leg that took the longest to heal, the thing that caused the most pain - her tibia and fibula were both broken.

It healed but wasn't the same anymore, and it was the same with the nerve damage in her right hand. No one needed to tell her, not when she could feel the difference in her own body, but any chance she had ever had of being a ballerina was gone. It didn't hit her until she was discharged from the rehab centre, and it changed everything. Without dance, where was home? It wasn't the dance school in New York anymore, but the idea of returning to the house her family used to live in didn't feel right either.

Her family's home was a no-go, but they still tried returning to Seattle, moving into Claudia's apartment and enrolling Odette in Giselle's old high school. It wasn't a bad school - people weren't unkind to her, but everyone knew. Not just the accident, most people had known Giselle and going there every day had felt like she was trying to take her place. Maybe she was the only one who thought like that, but she could feel the weight of their expectations, Giselle has been loved, and Odette would never be able to fill that role.

They tried, sticking it out in Seattle for four months before Claudia decided enough was enough. Seattle couldn't be home anymore, but that left the question of where to go? It turned out the answer was Forks, some rainy town in Washington that Odette had never heard of before. Claudia had never lived there, but it was where her grandparents grew up, where her father had grown up before he left and never looked back. Claudia's grandparents, in their early sixties, were retired and living in Florida, but they had kept their home and were more than happy to let their granddaughter move in.

Their house was hardly a wreck, but there had been too many repairs to move in immediately. With that, Claudia had decided she would have the place redecorated almost like an extra Christmas present for them, even if the move wasn't until mid-January. So she had fallen into planning while Odette tried to avoid questions. She didn't care about Forks or her new room, no matter how many times Claudia promised she would love it.

She knows that she should care, but even as they pull up outside, she can barely even muster the interest to look at their new home. At least there's nothing new to them about this house, nothing that makes it stand out in a sea of nearly identical neighbours. If Claudia hadn't had the idea to paint the door a pale lavender, Odette isn't sure if she'd be able to tell which one was theirs. It seems almost out of place with such a vivid colour but the falling rain blankets it like its neighbours.

She snaps out of her daze as Claudia climbs out of the car, and she's blasted with a stream of bitterly cold air. She blinks, feeling sluggish as she reaches into the backseat to grab her backpack. She feels the cold as she steps out of the car, her clothes too thin to keep her warm or to keep out the icy droplets of rain that are already seeping through her clothes before she can make it to the porch.

"Do you want some help with the boxes?" Odette asks as she watches Claudia open the trunk of the car.

Claudia shakes her head firmly, grabbing a small box as she comes to join her on the porch. "I'm fine. You should just head inside. I bet you're dying to see your new room," she says as she pulls out a set of keys, neither acknowledging how untrue that statement is.

Odette sighs, "Claudia, I'm still fully capable of carrying a few boxes," Odette responds, not making a move to accept the keys.

Claudia doesn't respond for a moment, clearly thinking her words through, "I know you are, but your jacket is way too thin. You'll catch your death," she says, holding the keys out more firmly.