Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight

Authors Note: Thanks for all the adds and the reviews keep them coming please:D Thanks for pointing out the spelling mistakes I'll keep that in mind I type it without even thinking at this stage so if I spell Quil wrong again please excuse me I know his name only has one "l". So please review:D

Fourteen Years Later

Chapter Six.

C.P.O.V

Making our way through the small town of Forks, I felt oddly at home. I couldn't explain it, maybe it was the constant misty rain which reminded me of my native London which seemed a million miles away from me now. My mam Jane was driving our rental car down to La Push the Quileute reservation just outside of Forks to visit my aunt Emily. I grew nervous as we passed a sign saying that La Push was 3 kilometres; this was the first time since I was two that I had seen my aunt and I had never met my cousins either which was something new to me.

Emily was Jane's only sister and she was married here to a man called Sam, my mother and Emily had fought when I was younger and soon after that we had moved to London. Jane never really spoke to Emily after that, despite numerous attempts on my aunts part to try and fix it. But my mother and father had recently divorced and Jane couldn't bare being in London any more and had decided to come and live in America again. At the moment we were staying in a hotel in Port Angeles, before that we had been staying in Seattle and that's when Jane had contacted Emily. I had heard most of the muted conversation from my room.

Jane was asking to come and see Emily and speak with her, but she had some conditions which didn't seem to make much sense to me. I had heard her make my aunt promise to not have "Him" there; exactly who him was I was unsure because from what Jane had said my uncle Sam was going to be there too. When I had tried to ask her she had told me I shouldn't eavesdrop on other people's conversations and that if I wanted to come that I should ask less questions.

Of course that had shut me up, I wanted nothing more than to go and meet my family; till now all I had known was my grandmother Regina a kindly old woman who was wheelchair bound. I had loved my grandmother more than anyone else in my family, I had spent most of my free time with her, she was my closest friend. Apart from her there was my older sister Susan who was the star of the family, beautiful and talented, she had been accepted to one of the most prestigious theatre schools in England; and was working to become an actress on the west end. Susan was the light of my parents life, she was everything that I was not.

Whilst Susan was of average height she made up for it by being slender and perfectly in proportion, she had medium length brown hair, and a deep russet skin tone that of a member of the quileute tribe; she had a perfect face too, small features again directly in proportion. It always infuriated me that she was so perfect when I was so out of balance, the girl was perfectly symmetrical whilst I was all over the place. I was quite tall in comparison and was quite pale in contrast with her russet skin. Whilst I was thin too, I couldn't be described as slender, my sister had small breasts which were perfect for her whilst mine were quite big, which always embarrassed me to no end. It usually drew unwanted attention from boys my age hormonal and immature. Apart from that I had a very different face too, I had the same small nose which I liked, but my lips unlike Susan's were bigger and pouting to look at; and my eyes were an electric blue surrounded by heavy black eyelashes. I had always loved my eyes, they were different but in a good way. My hair was a deep black which hung down around my waist. My mother was forever trying to make me cut my hair into a more fashionable style but I had resisted, I was too attached to it. The furthest that I had ever gone with it was to cut off the split ends and maintain my fringe which was long and choppy and almost fell into my eyes. My grandmother had always told me I was beautiful, but when you are being constantly compared to someone else then your entire life then it tends to take away what little confidence you used to have.

Soon we were I La Push and Jane spoke to me for the first time in what seemed like hours, but had probably only been minutes. "We're just about there now … another few minutes…" she trailed off looking nervously out of the window. If she was nervous then I didn't know how I should be feeling, when I could feel my breath growing sharp and I clutched at my chest. Jane snapped out of her daze and gave me a sidelong glance, "Claire use your inhaler would you?" she exclaimed exasperatedly. My asthma was another flaw that my mother used to criticise me. It was not as though I could help it but it had restricted them from going places when I was younger. Every-time I went further east from London my breathing would become increasingly difficult to control, meaning that I had to carry an arsenal of asthma medication, from inhalers to painkillers. Once I had gone on a school trip to France and had passed out on the plane mid-ways over the British channel. It was mortifying and I had to be sent home straight away as I could not regain control of my breathing. It was strange to me though lately since I had come to America but my breathing had improved dramatically, before I would have anything from five to twelve asthma attacks a day. It was infuriating but I had noticed that I was down now to two or three maybe a day. This was my first today and it only happened when I was nervous.

I pulled out my inhaler and took two short blasts from it, which quickly relieved my breathing for me. I sighed and placed it back into my messenger bag which was a constant attachment to my hip. It was filled with asthma medication and my writing pad which was filled with short stories and poems that I had hastily scribbled down. I sighed again and looked up and saw a familiar welcoming looking house. I instinctively knew before Jane even pulled into the driveway that it was Emily's house and felt oddly calm and at home.

I looked up at Jane who was shifting uncomfortably in her seat, looking up at the house with a look of doubt. I thought for a minute that she would drive away, and almost went to put my seatbelt back on, Jane interrupted the movement though when she sighed and looked around seeming slightly more at ease than before. "Come on then Claire…we haven't got all day.." I rolled my eyes, it was typical of my mother to blame her brief moment of doubt on my slight hesitation with the seatbelt. I quickly got out of the car before she could attempt to pin some other accusation on me.

Jane slowly got out of the car and pulled her handbag tighter to her side as she moved, for the first time I took notice of what she was wearing; it was a light pink skirt suit, probably Chanel knowing Jane's penchant for designer clothes Chanel being her favourite. I thought that it was a bit much for meeting her sister but then again my mother never did things by halves, like my sister she liked the limelight. This also reminded me of my father Brian who had a similar mindset to them but tended to tone it down to appropriate situations, unlike my mother he didn't feel the need to wear an entirely designer outfit to go down to the local store. For this reason I felt that I could relate with Brian more than Jane, although this was the only level in which I did relate to him.

Brian was an architect and was quite renowned, he had designed a number of important landmarks in the last twenty years; this made him quite in demand and meant that I didn't see him as much as would be expected. He was hardworking and expected the same from all of the family, I was a constant disappointment to him, in that I didn't pursue things the way my sister did. I wasn't able to act, I couldn't play sports with my asthma; and I didn't try and keep my appearance looking like I had just stepped off the runway.

A cough from beside me brought me back into a state of awareness, and I followed Jane slowly towards the house standing in front of us.