𝐈𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 ― Jasper Hale
The persistent, dreary rain of Forks, Washington, seemed to cling to everything, a stark contrast to the sun-drenched memory of California that still lingered in Hazel Pierce's mind. She gazed out the car window, the dense, ancient trees pressing in, their branches heavy with moisture, creating a tunnel of endless green.
Beside her, Scarlett hummed softly, a familiar tune that did little to ease the knot of anxiety tightening in Hazel's stomach. Forks. A fresh start, her father had called it. A safe haven for 'people like us.' But the words felt hollow, especially after the vivid, terrifying nightmare that had jolted her awake just hours ago.
The car slowed, pulling into the driveway of their new home. It was striking, a modern fortress of black stone and dark wood nestled amongst the wilderness. No neighbors, just trees. Hazel swallowed, a strange mixture of awe and apprehension churning within her. This wasn't just a new house; it was a new beginning, fraught with unknowns.
She looked at her father, Alcide, his profile etched with a tension she knew all too well. His assurances of safety rang in her ears, yet a part of her, the part that had witnessed Bella Swan's eyes turn crimson in a waking nightmare, knew better. Forks was anything but simple. And she, Hazel Pierce, was anything but ordinary.
