Daybreak

Prologue: Sunset

I took a deep breath and took one last look at 65 Fern Drive. My home.

Well, not anymore. I thought.

A single tear fell from my eye, as I turned my back on my old life; on the last remnants of my family. Smoothing out my black dress, I grabbed my backpack and headed to the yellow taxi in front of the driveway.

"To the airport, please," said a strained, cold voice that sounded just like mine. But it couldn't be. I saw my reflection in the rear view mirror and gasped. The pale, unfeeling girl in the mirror couldn't possibly be the same girl that, a week ago was laughing and carrying on with her friends in the mall. Maybe carrying on a little too much. I closed my eyes, wincing thinking about the party on Saturday night. Definitely too much.

But she was that girl.

I was.

I ran my fingers thorough my hair, a comforting gesture. I don't know what caused me to looked up, but when I saw myself in the mirror again, I gasped.

I look just like her, I thought. Her gray eyes looked sadly back at me behind her long, blonde hair. She pleaded with me to find happiness in life. She told me it would get better eventually.

But I knew it wouldn't.

The grief councilor had told me that after the accident happened. "It may seem bad now, Clara," she had said. "But, you'll learn to be happy. I promise you will."

She didn't know how impossible it was for me. She wasn't the girl who lost her mom, dad, and twin sister at seventeen. She wasn't the girl whose stupid party going habits killed her entire family. She wasn't the girl who caused the deaths of the only people she would ever love.

But, sure, I'll get over it.

"We're here, miss," the cab driver announced, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

"Oh, okay," I muttered, haphazardly giving him two twenties and jumping out of the car. People in my position often forget such subtleties like a simple "thank you" or "please". It just doesn't seem to matter anymore. Backpack in hand, I entered the Seattle-Alcona International Airport. To be honest, I wasn't sad to go. I was releaved to finally go somewhere that wasn't a constant reminder of her.

I saw my reflection on a glass window as I headed towards the airport entrance. Her face looked back at me, and I knew that wherever I went, I was the constant reminder of what I was and what I had. But it wasn't just me. It was what I always wanted to be. It was Alice.The smart one. The good one. Everything I should have been. Everything my parents wanted me to be. Wherever I went, she smiled back at me. The memory of her, at least.

I boarded Flight 918 to LaGuardia Airport and left them in Washington. I wasn't Clara Whitacker, the golden girl anymore, nor was I Clara Ann, the rebellious child. I wasn't beloved sister. I wasn't beloved daughter. I was Clara Whitacker, the girl who stopped loving after she realized that she didn't deserve that privilege.

The flight attendent started to give safety instructions as I watched the sun set on Seattle. I hated that city. That's where it all ended. That's where I stopped trying to love myself. It was too late. I screwed too many things up.