I looked up at the huge, tired hospital as I ascended the concrete steps. The rain usually was soothing, but since the Spanish Influenza struck out town, it seemed that every bit of joy, hope and love was sucked up by some unknown power.

Adjusting the rim of my ragged sunbonnet, I stopped and turned to look at the desolate area in front of the hospital. I remembered that once and a while a traveling band or performer would put on a quick show on these very steps. Father, and sometimes Edward, my older brother, would take Martha and I to see what was happening here.

Those days would never happen again. Father, who was always a rather sickly man, died in the first wave of the flu. If anything would be worse, Mamma and Edward fell ill, leaving me and my little sister with nothing but a small bit of money that Mamma promised would keep us sustained until she was strong enough to restart work.

The money wasn't enough. I had to start working, even though I was only about thirteen at the time, to keep Martha in school. I had to drop out of school.

Now, Mamma was gone. All there was left for my life was replacing spools at the tread factory, visiting Edward who was left dying in the hospital, and fixing dinner. I'm sure to become an old maid running a boarding house.

I opened the heavy wooden doors, the smell of death and sickness hitting me face first.

The hospital wasn't really a hospital at all. It was the house of a Rich Moran, a kind tax collector who had kindly donated his house to use as a hospital when the real one was full.

There were three categories, recovering, still sick, and dying. Edward was in dying.

I glanced at the door that had a sign written in bad handwriting.

Dying- DO NOT ENTER

Of course, and do I really care? I thought bitterly, putting the gauze mask on my mouth and nose, while with the other hand I pushed open the door. The smell of death reeked through the room as I bravely made my way along the rows of beds with dying people were lying, awaiting their death.

A young girl coughed at the very end of one the rows of beds, right where Charlisle was standing. My breath stopped.

Charlisle Cullen was a very pale, handsome man with strange eyes that were most of the time, the color of brandy. Many of the nurses were nervous around him, giggling like young girls whenever he smiled at them.

"Ah, Miss Claire Masen, I see you have come," He smiled through his mask, a pitying smile. He strode over to me and put his hand on my shoulder, the coldness running through my shirt.

"How is my brother?" Something in his eyes told me something was wrong.

"I'm sorry, Claire, but Edward died last night. I'm afraid that there was nothing I could do," His eyes showed much pity.

That was it. My heart tore apart for the last time it could bear. My tears were gone, no reason to cry now.

"Thank you, Dr. Cullen, I'll be going now," I managed shakily as I turned and headed out the door. I could sense that Dr. Cullen made no move to stop me. I knew that Edward, the brother I loved and counted on, was gone. There was nothing more in my life but work.

I love you, Edward.