I do not own any of the Twilight characters...

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A week had gone by very quickly, almost a blur. It was scary, if she thought about it too hard. How quickly a week could be gone. Day, night, day, night... Just melting in together. She couldn't remember much. Just the constant, tiring lessons that were supposed to teach her how to walk again. They had paid off. It had taken her a couple of days (she knew this only from asking Nurse Lewis) to get the hang of it again, but she needed perfecting. She still hobbled a bit, but she was no longer hunched over like an old woman. She remembered the nights, because they were harder than the days. She just kept turning everything over in her mind.

Everyone was gone. Her mother, her father, her brother. Her mother had never known her father, and her own mother was in an old people's home. Her father's parents were both dead. She had nobody left. No aunts. No uncle's. Nobody to count on.

As her eyes opened, she registered that it was Monday. Exactly a week from when she was woken. But she didn't remember because of that. It was because today was the funeral. The joint funeral of her mother, father and brother. Even as she thought about them, their faces, their voices, tears fell. The way her mother had to pick apart her day meticulously every time she got home from school. The times when her father had picked her up and held her when she cried. Aden's annoying habit of leaving lights on around the house. His peaky face when Ross Taylor had pushed him over at school and she had had to clean him up.

She wiped her face as the door opened. It was Dr Cullen. He seemed to notice the redness around her eyes, but the look she gave him refused comfort. "Nurse Lewis is bringing you some clothes for the funeral," he told her, before politely leaving. Bracken wiped her face properly and took a deep breath. She looked down at her body. She no longer wore that horrible hospital gown. She had been allowed to wear some of her clothes – the clothes that had been saved. These were the garments that had been in the wash basket downstairs, where the fire had not touched anything. Her mother had often forgotten the growing pile of dirty clothes.

Angrily, Bracken swiped away the fresh tears. There were dark blots on the pale blue jeans she wore. She pressed her nose into the cuff of the green cardigan she wore. It was slightly too big, because it was her mother's. She breathed in the familiar smell, and felt a little stronger.

At that moment, the door opened. She knew it was Nurse Lewis because she heard the slap of her footsteps. She sat up straight and turned her gaze onto the young nurse. She held a pile of black clothes over one arm. She placed them on the end of the bed, then looked up to smile sympathetically at Bracken. "If you need anything, any help, just call for me." Bracken nodded absently, though she knew she would not take up the offer, kind as it was. She slid from the bed and padded to the pile of clothes.

The funeral was going to take place in a church just outside of Forks, a town fairly near to her old home. She had lived in Seattle, but didn't want to travel back there for the funeral. There would be far too many memories to cause her distress. Bracken pushed the items of clothing apart with her hands. There was a black skirt that had belonged to her originally, along with a lacy ebony top that had also been hers, though she had only wore it once before, to her grandma's funeral. There were tights, a cardigan and a pair of ballet shoes. The shoes were not hers.

Bracken pulled the plastic curtain around her bed shut. She rubbed her chest absently. It had felt tight ever since she had found out about her family. It was like her heart had twisted itself up into a knot, and only time would loosen it. She began to dress herself in the dark clothes, pulling on the tights, sliding the shoes onto her feet. They were her size. She wondered who they belonged to. After every garment clung to her body, and the jeans, her mother's cardigan and the shirt she had been wearing were folded neatly on her bed, she picked up the mirror and brush.

She brushed her dark blonde hair into a plait that hung over one shoulder. Stray bits of hair fluttered free from either side, but still managed to look neat enough. She fastened the plait with a piece of black ribbon somebody had left on the little table. She then peered in the mirror. She looked tired, and her eyes sore and ringed, hung with dark shadows; but groomed enough. Would anybody really expect her to look perfect at her family's funeral?

She pushed back the curtain to find Nurse Lewis waiting for her. She put a hand on Bracken's shoulder. "Good luck," she said, as though Bracken were entering a show-jumping competition or something. "A friend of your father's is waiting for you outside the hospital. Mr... Trayson, I think he said." Bracken nodded. Jack Trayson had been one of her father's closest, if not the closest. She was sure he would be devastated at the news. Bracken left the room, remembering to be careful. Her walking still wasn't perfect, and she didn't want to trip over.

She took the lift down to the ground floor, then walked stiffly out of the huge entranceway. Fresh air rushed into her lungs through her mouth. The world seemed absolutely huge to her, and for a moment she swayed, disorientated. Being shut in the same small hospital room for so long had had its effects. She was saved the trouble of having to find the car when she noticed a black-clad figure walking towards her.

It was Lucie Trayson, Jack's wife. She wore a long, elegant black dress that was not suited to the worsening weather. She had known Bracken's father vaguely, but been closer to her mother. She took hold of Bracken's hand as she reached her. "Oh, Bracken dear," she breathed. "I'm so sorry for your loss." Bracken looked downwards, trying not to let the tears in her spill over. Damn. It looked like this was going to be happening a lot today. She should have expected it.

Lucie led her towards the big silver car she recognized as Jack's. Inside, she could see Jack himself in the driver's seat, looking out the window, face greyish. Four of the six back seats were occupied by the Trayson's children; Luke, the oldest, who was the same age as Bracken; Irisa, who was fifteen and close to Bracken; Mika, who was seven, and Damon, who was four. As Bracken slid into the car between Irisa and Luke, she noticed that both of them wore grave expressions. Mika and Damon were squabbling behind them. Bracken preferred their normal behaviour to the looks on the others' faces.

Jack turned around as his wife got back into the seat beside him. He touched Bracken's cheek. "I'm so sorry, Brac," he said gruffly. "It's such a... We're all gonna miss them." He turned around. His eyes had begun to look oddly dewy, and she suspected that was why. Bracken forced her thoughts away from her family, and looked down. She concentrated on nothing, absolutely nothing.

She felt soft skin as Irisa took her hand. The fifteen-year old wore a black dress like her mother's, and had her chocolate brown hair neater than usual. She said nothing, which made Bracken grateful. Then again, she had known Irisa since she was two... Bracken raised her head and tried to smile at her friend, but she was pretty sure she'd done it wrong. Because instead of smiling back, Irisa squeezed her hand. She turned to look at Luke instead. He was carefully avoiding her eyes. Luke never really spoke to her. She hadn't expected a miracle.

Bracken said in silence as the journey began. It was about half an hour to reach the church. Mika and Damon continued their fight until Lucie silenced them sharply. After that, the car was quiet and awkward. Bracken wished Lucie had left her two youngest to squabble.

When they pulled up outside the church, Bracken sucked in air nervously. Her heart was hammering. Lucie got out first, and released the impatient Damon and Mika. The youngsters did not understand the seriousness of the situation, and so were getting right on their mother's already fragile nerves. Jack followed, then Luke, until it was just Irisa and Bracken left in the car. Bracken shut her eyes. For them. I can do this. I have to do this. For them. She opened her eyes to find Irisa looking at her patiently. "I'm ready," Bracken whispered.

Irisa placed her hand on the door handle, and Bracken gasped in a flash of realization. "My speech! I forgot it!" Before she knew it, tears were rolling down her face. The slightest thing had been setting her off recently. She had spent so long on the speech, though it was not long. Not even half a piece of paper. But it had been like tearing out her heart, spilling everything onto the paper. Irisa's arms were around her. "Hey, hey! Bracken, don't cry," she said quickly. "The nurse gave it my dad. She said he'd better hold on to it, in case." Bracken gulped, trying to regain her composure. Eventually Irisa released her and she rubbed away the tears, making her eyes sting again. "Ok-kay," she said shakily. "Let's go."

The two of them left the car. Bracken held onto Irisa's arm as they walked over to Jack, Lucie and the others. As if he knew what her hesitation had been about, Jack produced her speech and handed it her. Bracken cradled it to her chest, letting go of Irisa's arm. She had to this. She had promised them that she would, every night. "Thankyou," Bracken said, and her voice sounded more steady than before.

As they walked towards the church, Bracken took hold of Irisa's arm again. People craned their necks to look at her. It seemed that everybody was there but her. They were the last people to arrive. She inhaled, looking at faces as she passed. All of them were twisted with pity. She recognized one of her mother's childhood friends, Lola Frank, and another woman who had been friends with her mother, Yasmin Cane, and her twin sons, Oliver and Jamie, who had been friends with Aden. She recognized other people, but her mind felt disconnected. She couldn't place names to the faces. She took her place on the front row with the Trayson's, sandwiched between Lucie and Irisa. She clutched at her speech, the paper weakening beneath her fingers.

This was going to be like a torture to her, so she tried to unplug the rest of her emotions. She felt numb. But as the funeral began everything seemed to start up again. She was hyperaware of all that was going on, and no matter how hard she tried she could not ignore it. The music began, and she choked on her breath. Tears rolled down her face, and she didn't bother to raise her hand to mop them up. She had chosen the song. 'Far Away', by Nickelback. Bracken wished she had not chosen it now. It felt like each word was being stuffed down her throat to stop her from breathing properly.

The music faded eventually, and Bracken's hysterics dulled too. Tears still slid down her cheeks, but her breathing grew more regular. Her eyes were painful, and every tear burnt them further. The vicar was reading now, words that had nothing to do with her mother or father or Aden. Words that were nothing to do with her. There was a song, which she stood up to sing, but then found she could not. The words wouldn't come out of her mouth.

Her turn was approaching. Rapidly. Karen Topps and her little sister Sadie went up to trill a song, and then Jack read a speech. She had meant to listen to this, but forgot to in her nerves. Irisa's hand was clenched in her own, but it didn't comfort her much. And then she was watching Jack walk back to his seat, his face red with emotion. The church waited. Bracken heard the vicar say her name, telling the church who was going to be next. She pulled my hand out of Irisa's, feeling like a robot as she walked up the aisle. She stumbled, forgetting how bad her walking still was, as she walked forward. Nobody laughed. Nobody made a sound.

Bracken held the paper in front of her, scanned the words, and began. At first she was just mumbling, looking at the paper, but as she got further through she looked at the audience. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she knew she had to this. For them. For them. For them.

"I never thought I'd be here. I never thought I'd have to do something like this," Bracken said, her voice hoarse from crying and lack of regular use. She looked at the audience nervously, and noticed Dr Cullen near the back. He looked odd in his black suit. There was a beautiful women with caramel-coloured hair sat beside him, who Bracken assumed was his wife. She continued. "But I am, and I do. M-my mum was a good person. She might've nagged a b-bit too much, and treated me... Treated me like I was three years old at times, but.. But I loved her. I... I... I still d-do.

"My dad... Well, dad was just dad. He always knew h-how to make you feel better. He always... He always knew how to let you know he was there. That he always... Always would be," Bracken's voice grew high pitched and cracked on the word 'always'. She swallowed, trying to control herself. "And I loved him. I still d-d-do.

"And Aden... M-my little Aden. He was s-so.. He was so... So... So happy. So... Carefree. Just right. My Aden. It's not fair that he... He was so young..." Her words reflected what she had sobbed so often in the past week – that it should have been her who died, not Aden. "And I... I loved him. I loved him so, so much. And... And... I still do.

"I love them... Them a-all. But they're gone. And... And... And... I don't know what I'm going to do without them." The last part was hard to understand. Lucie hurried from her seat, placed an arm around Bracken's shoulders, and hugged her close. Bracken cried on her for a while, forgetting about the audience even though she heard a couple of people blowing their noses. Bracken raised her head to look at Lucie, and she led her back to her seat. As soon as she sat down, Irisa seized her hand and squeezed it tight. Bracken squeezed it back, though she was still trying to catch her breath.

It was easy to ignore the rest of it. She caught snatches of songs, which she didn't stand up or join in for. She was like a stuck record, one image lodged in her mind. Her mother. Her father. Aden. Her mother. Her father. Aden. All of them. She forgot about everyone else around her. She forgot where she was, until Irisa shook her shoulder. "Brac, we're going outside," she said softly. Bracken got to her feet and staggered after Jack, Luke and Lucie. Lucie had hold of one of Mika's hands, and one of Damon's hands, but she looked more restraining than comforting.

Bracken walked out of the church with the Traysons. They were the last, so nobody jostled her. It was cold outside, and she wrapped her arms around herself. Irisa had her arm around Bracken's shoulders, but this did nothing to warm her up. The vicar, who led the procession, was walking through a graveyard to where there were three newly dug graves, in a line. Fresh tears choked her. We stopped in a ragged circle. There was a coffin in each dirt hole. Bracken's mouth went completely dry, and she could not breathe properly.

She listened vaguely to the vicar. This part of the service was a lot shorter. A bowl of dirt was offered around to people. When it reached Bracken, she took three handfuls of the dirt and scattered one on each. She then walked back to the Traysons. Soon after, people began to disperse. Eventually the Traysons left her too, though she knew they would wait until she was ready to leave.

Bracken walked forward, tears falling from her face onto her cardigan. This was the last chance she had to speak to her family. This was the last moment she had with them. She inhaled, the cold wind making her cheeks sting painfully due to their wetness.

"I love you so much… Goodbye."

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