Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own Twilight, Stephenie Meyer does.


"Mommy?" a high musical voice resonated through the living room.

"Yes sweetie?" I looked up from my work, seeing my beautiful little five year old standing in front of me, her index finger in her mouth and her brows closely knit together. It was an expression I'd seen God knows how many times. It meant she was going to ask me a question.

"Why don't I have a daddy?"

It was the question I had been dreading since the day she was born. I would have been happy to answer any question she had for me - even the one about where babies came from - but not this one.

Libby's big emerald eyes looked up at me, not knowing she had just ripped the stitches from my heart. Stitches that had been in place for more than five years. I tried to remember the answers I had thought up when I had been rehearsing this conversation in my mind but I couldn't come up with anything.

"Mommy?" Libby asked, her frown increasing and her head slightly dipped to the side. She had noticed something was wrong.

I sighed. Why did she have to be so damn perceptive? I hadn't been able to lie to her since she was three. When she noticed I wasn't telling the truth - or even when I was just editing - she would just roll her eyes and ask the same question again. I knew I had never been good at lying, but I should have at least been able to fool a small child.

I sighted once again, trying to get as much air in my lungs as possible. Let's get this over with.

"You do have a daddy, Libby." I answered. "He's just not...around."

"Why not?" She looked puzzled. "Is it like Danny's dad?" Danny was a boy Libby knew from kindergarten. His father had died last year.

"No honey, your daddy is still alive. Mommy and him just aren't...together. You know...like Felicity's mom and dad."

Felicity and Libby often played together in the park. Felicity's mom, Victoria, was alone like me. Her husband had left her a few years ago. This fact hadn't made Victoria any less of a stuck up heinous bitch though. I'd always wondered how a woman like her could give life to a child as sweet as Felicity when she seemed to be sucking the life out of everyone around her.

"Oh." Her frown was still in place. The barrage of questions hadn't stopped, she just needed some time to process this new information. "Why did you break up?"

I took a deep breath, trying to fight both the tears and the memories that had appeared. Memories I had carefully exiled to the back of my mind in order to function like a normal human being.

"Sometimes..." I couldn't hold back a sob. I hated myself for crying in front of my child. She couldn't help the mess I had made of my life. "Sometimes things just don't work out, sweetie."

Sometime during my last sentence Libby had climbed on my lap. She was now resting her head against my shoulder, comforting me whilst I cried silently into her hair.

At times like these I was grateful that my daughter seemed to have inherited my old soul. My mother had once told me that she thought I had been born thirty-five and had gotten more middle-aged every year. That same thing seemed to apply to Libby.

I knew that my answerers hadn't satisfied her, that sometime soon Libby would ask me about her father again, but I still had no idea about what I was going to tell her. How do you tell an innocent little five year old who still believes fairy tales can happen to normal people that sometimes the world is just...screwed-up?

A.N. This story occurred to me when I was on vacation in New York. It may seem a bit strange and overly dramatic now but I promise it will get better. All major characters from the Twilight-series will be in here and of course so will Edward!

Should I continue? Let me know...