"i'm finally here, start the applause
let's make it louder
this one's for the woman of the hour"
-
Turns out Bella isn't the first human Edward has abandoned.
Claire Avery was his first victim, a quiet and proper young woman that stole his heart. F...
"W-what?" her breathing became fast and laboured and her palms started getting sweaty. She was trying to comprehend what she was being told while trying to stay optimistic.
Were her parents ok? Is that why they weren't home yet? They had to be alright, she'd know if something was wrong. She couldn't imagine losing them, they were her best friends.
"Your parents were in a car accident two hours ago. I'm sorry," Malloy's voice was laced with sympathy, though Claire didn't seem to register it. She was too preoccupied with trying not to freak out.
"Can I see them? I should go see them, they must be worried," Claire stood in a rush, heading towards the front door again only to be stopped by a firm hand on her shoulder. She turned to look at the detective, finally noting his sad expression.
"I'm sorry. They didn't make it."
She stood silently, not making sense of what he was trying to tell her.
Until it hit her like a freight train. Her knees buckled under her as she let out an anguished scream. Malloy managed to catch her before she hit the ground and instructed Whitman to fetch her a glass of water.
She felt no embarrassment as she sobbed into the poor man's chest, soaking through his shirt with her tears. All she could feel was devastation. This couldn't be happening to her. To them. Her parent's deserved to grow old together. Her parents were gone. The wonderful people that raised her, that supported her. They had raised her up with love and dried her tears when she fell.
Her dad, who let her dress him up as a princess for her birthday parties until she was 9, would never get to see her graduate. He wouldn't get to embarrass her in front of her friends ever again. Her wouldn't get to walk her down the aisle.
Claire would never get to look out her bedroom window to see her beautiful mother painting on the lawn on a warm, sunny day ever again. Jennifer would no longer be dancing around their kitchen, listening to Simon and Garfunkel while baking her apple pie. She wouldn't be braiding Claire's hair every night before she went to sleep. She wouldn't get to help Claire plan her wedding or pick out her dress.
They were gone and she was going to have to do everything alone. The two people that anchored her would no longer be there for her.
Everything that night was a blur, but she also vividly remembered every second of it. She vaguely remembered the two policemen escorting her to the hospital, to the morgue. She remembers the bright fluorescent lights, the long, empty hallways, the smell of disinfectant that made her feel nauseous. She vividly recalls the pitying looks from the few nurses they passed, the gentle tone of the coroner's voice as she asks her to identify her parent's bodys. The white sheets were turned down to their collarbones so Claire could see their faces one more time.
Their faces would be burnt into her memory forever; so cold, so lifeless, as pale as the sheets that covered them. Her mother's beautiful chocolate brown hair was matted with blood, gravel and glass, her skin was littered with cuts and abrasions, a particularly large wound on her left temple was so deep and brutal she could see the white of bone. Claire hoped that she was knocked unconscious, that she didn't feel the pain.
Her father was barely recognisable. Almost one side of his face was completely lost to the asphalt, looking at him made her stomach churn. What was left of his graying stubble was stained red, as was his hair. Claire could make out another wound underneath the sheet, it looked like he had no skin left on his chest.
She felt empty. What did they do to deserve this? She wouldn't be able to remember them as their joyful selves; she'd always remember how they looking in this moment. Cold, damaged and empty.
She had stopped crying when they arrived at the hospital, she had shut down her emotions. Detective Malloy watched her the entire time, incredibly concerned for the teenager. She had just turned 18 that day, now she was staring at her parent's soulless corpses.
﹌﹌﹌
When he arrived at the scene of the accident, the smell of iron hung in the air. He knew it wasn't good. An older model sedan carrying the happily married couple was rear-ended by a fully loaded semi-trailer being driven by a drunk. The sedan was sent flying forward into a concrete bollard, Jennifer had struck her head on the dashboard, breaking her neck, and killing her instantly.
Michael wasn't so lucky. His seat-belt snapped, he was sent flying through the glass and slid across the asphalt. His body was mutilated, his chest and one side of his face stripped of skin. It didn't kill him instantly. The shock did.
By the time Malloy and Whitman arrived on the scene he was gone. The poor officer caught a glimpse of Mr Avery's face and vomited on his own shoes. Malloy couldn't blame him; this was one of the worst crashes he'd seen.
He wasn't proud to admit that he was glad that the driver of the truck had died at the scene, apparently having choked on his own blood while first responders struggled to open his crumpled cabin door. Seemed like a fitting way to go for causing so much carnage.
After nearly an hour of talking to witnesses and assessing the crime scene, Malloy got confirmation of the victims' identities. Jennifer and Michael Avery, married 20 years, one daughter.
Now it was his turn to feel sick. He was going to have to tell some poor girl that her parents were not coming home. He was caught in his own thoughts when Whitman called him over to the crushed sedan, pointing at the backseat.
Sitting in the midst of the wreck was a gift wrapped in bright pink paper, a card tucked under the white ribbon. He reached through the open door to grab it carefully. He plucked the card out and his heart clenching as he read it.
To our wonderful daughter,
We're so proud of you. No one could ever ask for a more perfect child. We know the last few months have been tough, but we're proud of how strong you are.
Happy 18th Birthday, Claire.
All the love in the world,
Mom and Dad
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a/n:
short and pretty sad, but i'm going to be updating again on friday to make up for it <3 next chapter revisits edward and then moves forward.
