"Now, plié," Mary's voiced called out to a four year old Claire as she did her basic lessons for the second time that day. Claire did as she was told knowing if she did not then she wouldn't be allowed at Aunt Emily's later.
"How much longer mom?" Claire whined. She was tired and her legs hurt, if dad was home from work today then this wouldn't be happening.
"Until I say so," Mary shouted as she stood up from her chair in the corner. Claire repressed a groan as she followed orders. Another half an hour and Claire was covered in sweat trying not to cry.
"Mom, she's tired and wants to go play," Sarah's voice came from down the hallway, Ben standing next to her trying to make himself small.
"Play with that weird man? No. Never again. Not on my watch. Claire, again," Mary commanded before Claire finally collapsed to the floor, her body completely tired.
"I want a nap," she announced before shutting her eyes and curling up in a ball. Claire was exhausted. When her father left for work and Quil was busy with his job then this is all she did. She didn't want to dance anymore. It was fun at first, to have her mothers attention but it wasn't fun anymore.
"No! No naps, get up," Mary was charging over but was stopped by Emily and Quil who walked through the front door. Her saviors as always.
"She's four Mary. Quil go tuck her in so she can catnap," Emily had come to the rescue like always. Claire wondered why Emily couldn't just be her mom. Quil walked over and gently picked up the tired toddler off the floor and carried her to her big pink bed.
"Go to sleep my little ballerina," Quil pulled up the comforter to her chin before kissing her forehead. Little did Claire know that would be the last time for seventeen years she'd see Emily or Quil. Emily who would try to reach out but be shot down by Mary and Quil who became a distant blurry memory due to her blocking out most of her life before sixteen from trauma her mother installed.
Claire sat on her kitchen counter at two in the morning drinking another cup of coffee. Her once perfect bun was now messy and fizzy. Her body covered in now a cold sweat which was making her shiver despite the warm house. Her feet bleeding and her worn pointe shoes laid on the wooden floor. The big winter ballet show was a few days away in Seattle and she felt like she wasn't good enough still, despite being casted as the lead in the Nutcracker. Her mother installed that in her brain at a very young, that she was never good enough. She could hear her twin brother Ben snoring meaning he was asleep in his bed without a clue of the torture she was putting herself through.
"I need sleep," Claire finally admitted to herself when the coffee wasn't kicking in. She slid off the counter before limping down the hallway to her room. Her body ached and her feet screamed with each step she took. She sat down on the edge of her bed sighing, she knew the only thing that was going to numb her pain right now was cold water. She also knew if she turned the tub on her brother would wake up and instantly realize that she was awake.
"The ocean it is," Claire muttered to herself as pulled out a pair of socks from her top drawer. She also pulled on a pair of sweatpants over her leggings and a giant hoodie that her dad had left behind when he passed. She had found it last week when her brother and her moved in to start cleaning the house out of all the trash their father had accumulated over the years. They gave up their apartment they shared in Seattle to come back to La Push and keep the family house well...in the family. It was in their fathers will to do so. Their mother had protested and threw a raging fit but they were twenty-one and had always felt bad that their mother tore them away from their father. Wouldn't even let them see him, they only spoke to him on their birthday and even then their mother hovered. She always claimed it was for their own protection. Claire was so lost in her thoughts that she hasn't realized she had just walked a mile to the beach until she hit the sand. The harsh breeze felt nice on her sweaty skin and aching body. She let out a sigh before taking the sweatpants off and rolling up her leggings, she threw her socks on top of the pile and her hoodie. She let her black hair out of the bun it was dying to escape from so it tumble down her back in waves. She stood on the beach at almost three in morning with nothing but leggings and a sports bra on. She would have looked crazy if anyone had seen her. Luckily the full moon was bright enough to wear she could see things around her in a dim light. She started walking towards the water and at first it was brutally cold but after a minute it felt soothing against her body.
"Just what I needed," she sighed in relief before laying on her back letting the gentle motion of the water calm her pain. She wasn't sure how long she had stayed there floating near the shore until she heard shouting.
"There's someone in the water!" A mans voice shouted as it neared her. Claire's eyes flew open and realized the sun was starting to peak above the horizon meaning I was around five. She had been in the frigid water for two hours and not noticed.
"It's a girl. Is she alive?" Another voice shouted, Claire could now hear the heavy footsteps hitting the wet sand.
"Fuck," she whispered before gracefully standing up. Her body was numb but at least she wasn't near tears anymore when she moved.
"Miss, what are you doing? It's 20 degrees out," a man with short black hair and cut off jeans scolded her as he started in the water towards her.
"Says the man wearing shorts," Claire snipped back at him as she started walking towards the beach. The man stopped in his tracks not sure what to say or do since she was obviously alive and moving. Claire was now cold from the breeze she hadn't felt while she was floating.
"I'm...I'm..." The man was stumbling trying to find an excuse but Claire didn't care what he was doing out there in shorts. It wasn't her business.
"It's fine, sorry I disturbed the peace," Claire held her hands up above her head joking like he was some sort of beach police.
"How long were you in the there? Your lips are blue," the man sounded concerned as Claire was now standing right now to him on the shoreline. She was aware of how crazy she must looked. Soaking wet black hair, leggings and a sports bra and now adding blue lips and probably smeared makeup.
"None of your business. I'm fine," Claire shrugged as she marched past the man to go grab her things.
"What's your name? Just making sure you're okay and seeing if I need to help you home," the man was following her. She had yet to notice that the other man who was also shouting before stood still by her clothes. He was watching her trying to figure out why his heart was pulling towards her, he had felt that many years ago that it scared him all over again.
"Jesus Christ! My name is Claire Young. I literally live a mile from here. Yes, I know the way back. I have not slept in two days and I'm exhausted so if you don't mind," her temper got the best of her. Something she inherited from her mother to where her brother inherited all the patience in the world from their father. To where her old sister Sarah was the perfect mix of both, knowing when to turn each on when needed.
"Claire Young? As in Maxwell Young's youngest daughter?" The man behind her asked, frozen in his own tracks as Claire zoned in on her clothes.
"Yes, but he just died so if you were friends with him then I'll see you at the funeral tomorrow...today," Claire grabbed her sweatpants and tugged them on. She was able to get one sock on before he spoke again. This man was starting to really piss her off.
"My name is Jacob Black, I was friends with your dad but my brother next to you was better friends," the man, Jacob, was pointing next to a frozen statue of a handsome curly haired man. Claire peaked out from under neath her eyelashes to see his jaw was set tight.
"Neat," was all Claire could get out though before pulling on her other sock. She now saw how damaged her feet really look in the morning sunlight. They had bruises, blisters and scars, some old and some new, all along them. To the unknown eye they probably thought someone beat her or she got into some horrible accident.
"What happened?" The statue next to her finally spoke. Concern, fear and worry laced his voice. Claire's brain told her to comfort him which she ignored, she was probably so tired that her thoughts were becoming crazy. Claire threw on her hoodie before pulling the hood up to keep her now cold hair shielded from the breeze and faced the man who spoke now.
"Ballet," Claire answered his question. She locked eyes with him and damn near blurted out I love you just by taking once glance at his hazel eyes. Yes, she was definitely going crazy. She gave a quick wave before tearing herself from his eyes and headed up the beach and into the woods that would have the trail she take her home. She stopped once she cleared the edge though and turned around. The men still stood, staring at where she disappeared to. She could see their lips moving but she was too far now to hear their conversation. Probably about how crazy Maxwell Youngs daughter was.
"Why do they look familiar?" Claire asked shaking her head. She remembers bits and pieces of the last time she was here. Her playing with Aunt Emily. Her playing at the beach. Her mother making her practice her ballet daily even though she wanted to go play with friends. Her playing dolls with a curly haired man. Her being snatched away by her mother who screamed for divorce and moved them four hours away. She lingered on the curly haired man, he looked the most familiar. His eyes spoke to a peice of her that hadn't been reached in years. Claire just shook her head and headed home for some much needed sleep before the funeral that she was not prepared for today.