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POV Claire
After my call with Jackson, I went back inside.
The adults had gathered in the living room, their low voices blending into a constant murmur. They were talking about me. About what was happening. As if I were the problem… but not important enough to be included.
Hours passed.
No one came to see me.
Except my grandfather, my mother… and Éric, of course. Always ready to throw in a sharp remark whenever he had the chance. I didn't even react. My mind was elsewhere. My eyes fixed on my phone.
Jackson wasn't calling back.
Every minute stretched into the next.
Until I broke.
I dialed his number again.
He picked up almost immediately.
"So, Jackson?" I asked, my voice already trembling.
A breath came through the line.
"You were right…" he finally said. "And it's worse than we thought."
My stomach twisted.
He told me what he had found, and my blood ran cold when I heard the word body.
After that, I wasn't really listening anymore.
Everything became a blur.
I found myself walking without realizing it toward where the adults were. I pushed the door open casually, but my entrance didn't go unnoticed.
All heads turned.
Annoyance. Concern. Weariness.
"What is it now…?" someone muttered.
"We're a bit busy, Andréa," my grandmother said sharply.
I barely paid attention, until my mother stood up, worried.
"Claire? What is it?"
My throat tightened.
"They found a body."
Silence fell instantly over the room.
"What do you mean?" my grandfather asked.
"A body… at her place… at Avery's," I said, shaken.
"What are you talking about?" my father snapped.
"Let her finish, Marc," my grandfather said firmly.
"You can go on, sweetheart," my mother added, stepping closer to me.
"Jackson found Avery's house in a mess…" I said, emotion rising.
"Calm down," my mother murmured, placing her hands on my arms.
"He found a body… someone dead," I whispered, tears in my eyes.
The murmurs exploded.
Questions. Sighs. Protests.
"Are you sure?" my grandmother asked.
"Yes… Jackson told me."
"And who is Jackson?" my father interrupted.
"That doesn't matter!" my grandmother cut in. "Is it your friend?"
"I don't know…"
"Be clear, Andréa."
"You're putting pressure on her," my mother intervened.
The room was tense.
"I want her to be clear before worrying everyone," my grandmother said, a hint of anger in her voice.
"That's no reason to speak to her like that, she's shaken," my mother insisted.
"Maybe you should stop babying her, she's not a child anymore," my father added.
The voices were rising. As always.
Then my grandfather cut through them:
"It's not her."
Everyone turned to him.
"If it were Avery… you would know, Claire. You're connected."
My grandmother slowly nodded, realizing the implication.
"If she were dead, you wouldn't be standing here."
A breath escaped me.
Relief… brief.
Because another thought replaced it.
Then who was it?
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My mother walked me back upstairs. She spoke softly, trying to reassure me. I nodded without really listening.
Once alone in my room, the silence fell over me.
I should have waited. Listened to everything. As always, I had panicked too quickly.
Maybe my father was right.
Maybe I overreacted.
The thought disgusted me.
But exhaustion took over.
I fell asleep almost immediately.
---
I woke up even more tired than the day before.
As if I hadn't slept.
As if something had kept me… somewhere else.
It was almost ten when my phone vibrated.
Sam.
"Avery showed up again," he said. "She's okay. But… something happened. She panicked. She left."
I thanked him, my heart racing too fast.
Avery was alive.
But nothing was over.
I called Jackson immediately. He went to find her.
I went down to the kitchen, my mind still foggy.
My grandfather approached me.
Slowly.
Gravely.
"Claire… we need to talk."
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