I read the passage a few times and watched the pencil roll along the floor a few times as well. Never in my life have I experienced such a delightful feeling so quickly. I kept reading on in sheer delight. It was like reading a children's book. I was positively elated. However, the reading became gloomier as I came across an entry referencing one of our most intimate conversations.

2 December, 1909

It seemed it would be a normal day today, but it turned out to be a very emotional one, for Cara at least. I feel awful. But not so much because of what she told me, but because I'm a little happy it happened. Does this make me a terrible person? You may not remember but today she told you about her sister. She died a year ago today. That's why Cara moved here. Am I a bad person to be happy about it since I have her as my friend now? That's how it seems. I am sorry that it happened as it did and about how much their family went through but I'm more happy that they are here now. I hope that is not as bad as I believe it is.

I walked over to the Dubliners book once more, taking it with me when I went back to the couch and opened it again. I could picture the necklace before I even saw it. She never told me who made it for her but I know it was her idea to do it. Please understand this: in all of my years I have experienced and caused a significant amount of pain to myself and others. However, to this day, I cannot possibly fathom how much pain Cara could have gone through the day her sister died. I considered this as I slowly lifted the necklace from the inside of the book. The whole conversation started because I noticed the necklace and decided to ask about it. It was a thin, diamond piece of blown glass that was strung on a thin grey ribbon. The glass maintained a tiny volume in order to keep a small memento. The space was occupied by a miniature swatch of half-charred fabric that was secretly torn off of the dress of her sister, Sara's corpse.

Sarafina Vivas was known in her family only as Sara. She was a stern, tough girl. From a very young age, she was extraordinarily serious. She never laughed without cause or smiled too much. She had a realistic view of the world around her before she even understood it. It was for this reason that she chose to marry so young. At fifteen and a half she was married to a nice, honest, southern factory worker who maintained a charming two bedroom about a mile from the Vivas household in New York City. However, what no one knew about this building was how mistreated and worn the heating systems were. The landlord never kept up with it and just let it go.
"It is a year today. I cannot believe it has been an entire year. It seemed so long ago." Cara crossed the room and lit a small red candle, placing her sisters picture behind it. She looked almost exactly like Cara, but her face lacked the lightheartedness that seemed to be ever-present in Cara's. I remember my father's reaction the most..." Cara mused sadly as she untied her necklace and placed it in Edward's hand. "My father was so upset for so many reasons. But the biggest reason was that he had nobody to be mad at... It was an accident."
He stored oil in the lower basement, next to the furnace. He was down there looking for his keys when it happened.
"She loved our old apartment. She loved it to pieces" a tear slowly rolled down her cheek. Her expression was so serious and far away that the tear seemed misplaced. "We couldn't stay there after what happened." She looked up at Edward with a little smile, "That's why we're here now..."
Sara was making lunch. Her husband sat at the kitchen table looking out at the little kids playing outside.
"Everybody said it happened so fast."
The landlord lit a cigarette and threw the match on the ground. Sara wiped her flour-coated hands on her apron. Her husband turned to her, watching her lovingly.
"Just one second there..."
A kid outside clapped his hands, Sara's husband said softly I love you a spark of the furnace stunned the landlord, sending his cigarette on a puddle of spilled car fuel.
"Then gone." Edward looked at the glass. The fabric that was not burned was white with tiny blue roses. It was so typical.
"But then... how..." Edward couldn't form the question but she knew how to answer.
"The police... the police were at our door. We heard the sirens and commotion but we didn't know it was her."
A slow knock came from the front door of their apartment. Mrs. Vivas opened the door to a young, fidgety cop who removed his cap before he even knocked.
In a few minutes the three of them ran to Sara's home. Surrounding the curb was a sea of rubberneckers who shamelessly got in the way of firemen, ambulance and police personnel. They were shouted at to move but the opportunity to experience the thrill and excitement of witnessing a possibly fatal accident was too good to miss. Mr. Vivas pushed people away; he was the image of panic. Mrs. Vivas held Cara close to her waist; she felt the need to hold onto whoever she had left of her family. They slowly made their way through the crowd.
"My father was on his knees when I saw him. He held Sara tight as he wailed and wailed."
Sara's face was smeared with soot in random small places. Some of her hair was burned off as was some of her dress. Mrs. Vivas held her husband as Cara tore off a piece of fabric from her sister's dress. She stuffed it into her pocket before taking a really good look at her. Her face was emotionless. She was still and without and breath. Her eyes were closed. Close by was her husband: a completely unrecognizable figure. When he heard the boom he jumped in front of her. He suffered the flames but she still suffocated.
"We must have stood on that street for hours. People cane and went, the fire in the building was slowly extinguished, and the day went on. But we were all so broken." Her face was serious and unmoving. She was back in the moment. No one thought to protect the smallest child. No one thought to leave her home.
"I'm sorry." Edward said slowly. He opened his hand, realizing how hard he had been squeezing the glass. A streak of red blood ran down his hand. He looked at it with a confused face and slowly looked up at Cara. Her eyes watered as one tear struggled down her cheek. "But can't you..." He looked at his hand again to confirm. When he looked up, Cara had unbuttoned the first two buttons of her dress showing a multitude of tiny scars on her chest. They seemed so harmless, as if from a kitten, but they must have hurt her.

"I cannot forget her... and I never will."

...

I wanted to add an author's note but it would've spoiled the chapter if it was at the beginning so here goes: I chose the name Sarafina very intentionally. The name it comes from, Serafina, is an Italian/Spanish name meaning "the burning one" and since the Vivas are Spanish/Italian it fits so well. and also that it could be shortened to Sara which I wanted for Cara's sister to begin with (for obvious reasons). This chapter is mostly a filler but it's also kind of important because this is not some Romeo and Juliet thing where they fell in love the second they met when they were 8 years old. One: that's weird and gross and second, this is one of, if not the most, important relationship of his life. I don't want it to be a love at first sight romance. They both spilled their guts to each other in some way so that when they got older and more attracted to each other, they were extraordinarily close. I do this because I believe strongly that real romances spark from friendships. Anyway, before I start preaching, the "I love you" in the flashback is italicized. That wasn't Edward saying that, I just didn't want to add quotes because they're bulky and I had to distinguish between what Cara was saying and what happened in the few moments before Sara died from the POV of someone who knows everything in the story (me). Also I didn't give her husband a name. It wasn't really intentional I just didn't... If you're one of those people where that's not acceptable (I've met those people) then I always picture him as a Jack. I wasn't sure if I mentioned in the last chapter that the Vivas are from New York. Just in case, I put it there now. It will be important much, much, MUCH later. Anyway, I like Wednesdays so far for weekly updates. I have this terrible habit of working on farther away chapters though. I'm writing this (or trying to) in the same order that you read it. It's much more difficult than it sounds. But thank you for reading, please comment, follow, like, all of the above :D I really hope you guys like this. It's a nice story and even if you don't like Twilight, a lot of this can be the back story for anyone. It's really just the ending chapters that will get Twilight related. Thank you again, updates coming (hopefully) next Wednesday!