Before long, the final bell rings, signaling the end of the day. A sense of relief settles over me as I gather my things, the weight of the day lifting slightly with each step I take toward the parking lot. My car is waiting, and my mind is already on the drive home, where I can shed the tension that's been building all day.

As I turn the corner of our street, the familiar sight of my house greets me. I pull into the driveway, but before I even have the chance to unlock the door, it swings open. Luka and Mags stand there, almost too eager, their eyes lighting up with barely contained excitement. It's obvious they've been waiting for me, even though they're trying to act casual.

"You look like you've been pacing," I comment, a small smile tugging at my lips, trying to ease the tension in the air.

Mags grins widely. "Welcome home! How was your first day of high school ever?" Her tone is full of curiosity, and I can tell she's been dying to ask.

"It's a very long story, why don't you tell me how your day was first?" When they look at me smiling knowingly, I re-think and say, "Ugh. Never mind, I don't want to know."

I chuckle softly, running a hand through my hair as I start to recount the events of the day. Mags and Luka listen intently, nodding along.

Just as I finish the story, Luka interrupts, his voice full of disbelief. "Wait, wait... she didn't say anything… to anyone all day?" He's leaning in slightly, eyebrows raised as if he can't wrap his head around it.

"No," I reply, shaking my head slowly. "I never heard her speak. But I'm not surprised. I don't think she talks much to anyone. I didn't either, not when I was in my... darker places. I'm sure she's speaking to her father at home, but mustering the energy to be around people at school—it just doesn't seem worth it to her." I pause, swallowing a lump in my throat. "And I get it. I've been there."

The room grows quiet as we all process the weight of my words. I lean back against the counter, my gaze fixed on the floor as the ache of my past resurfaces. The weight of it—the way you hide pieces of yourself to survive—never really goes away.

Mags breaks the silence, her voice softer than usual. "Clare-Bare," she uses the nickname that's always brought me comfort, but I can hear the concern in her tone, "I'm so proud of you. But I don't want to see you fall back because of this. You were doing so well, finally starting to forget, to move forward. But then we hear about you going to the Cullen house, and we're worried. We thought this move would be a good thing, but if it's not... you just say the word, and we'll go back to Vegas."

I feel the knot in my chest tighten. I knew she'd say something like this. I knew it wasn't going to be easy for them to understand. But this is different. "I know, Mags," I reply, my voice heavy with the weight of my thoughts. "And I appreciate you more than you know, but I will be okay. Seeing someone else go through what I went through... it stirs up memories, sure. But it's important to me that I help her. Her scars—they're visible. And when I look at her, I wonder... are mine?"

Luka speaks up, cutting through the tension. "No. We only know because we are your family and know you so well. No one else can see it. They just... don't understand." He glances over at Mags, his tone gentle but firm.

"Exactly," I agree, meeting Luka's gaze. "I know there's a light at the end of this Hell Hole Road. It's faint, but it's there. If there's any way I can help her, I will. I've been there before. And yes, I'm curious about her too." I glance at Mags, as if seeking her approval, but she's quiet, watching me carefully.

Mags gives me a small, sad smile, but her eyes are still filled with concern. "Clara, you tell us this like we don't already know." She shakes her head slightly, her expression softening. "I just... I want to make sure you don't lose yourself again. I don't want you to carry anyone's burdens on top of your own. You've done enough of that already."

I laugh bitterly, though it's not without a touch of warmth. "I know. I know. I guess it just feels nice to say it out loud. To make my reasons... real. To make them something I can hold on to." I pause, letting my words sink in before continuing, the weight of them heavier than I expected. "I hope they come true. I hope this—whatever this is—leads somewhere. Somewhere better."

A long silence follows, one that stretches between us as Luka and Mags both absorb what I've said. Luka shifts, his usual stoic expression betraying a flicker of something—concern, maybe, or uncertainty.

Finally, Mags breaks the silence, her tone thoughtful. "It would be nice if there was a point to all of this." Her words linger in the air, a quiet question neither of us knows how to answer.

I tap my fingers against the counter rhythmically, lost in thought. It's a nervous habit I didn't even realize I had. After a moment, I look up, meeting their eyes. "We could go to her house, see how she's doing tonight," Mags suggests, her voice quieter now, but filled with a desire to help.

I shake my head immediately, the thought already swirling in my mind.

"No," I reply, my voice firm. "I've thought about it, but it wouldn't help. I won't be able to talk to her at home. It would be too much... the energy, the atmosphere. Right now, it's not worth it." I exhale slowly, a bit of frustration leaking into my words. "I'll see her at school. That's where I can actually try to talk to her. Or at least, that's where I'll have the chance to try."

Luka's gaze flickers toward me, his expression unreadable. He doesn't say anything, but the way his eyes narrow tells me he's processing something. Mags watches me closely, her lips pressed together in a firm line, but I can see the acceptance in her eyes. She knows I'm determined, and she knows that once I've made up my mind, there's no changing it.

"So, we wait for school tomorrow, then?" Luka asks, his voice steady but with a hint of something like apprehension. His eyes meet mine for a split second, before he looks away.

I nod, the decision already made. "Yeah. We wait."

As the conversation trails off, the silence feels more oppressive than ever. I find myself lost in thought, the words repeating in my mind. I'll see her at school. But I don't really know what that will look like. I don't know if she'll talk to me, or if I'll be able to break through the walls she's built around herself. But I'm not backing down. I won't let her go through this alone—not when I know what it's like.