Disclaimer:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Stephenie Meyer. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: I would like to thank every single person who has reviewed, including those who have taken the time to calmly explain why they didn't like the story. Your comments are all very much appreciated.

SEVEN

I'm not like other girls.

I'm different.

Mommy and daddy say I'm special.

Uncle Jacob says I'm special, too.

Uncle Jacob's nice to me.


I turn seven today.

I'm having a really big party. Mommy and daddy organised it.

I don't like the decorations, though. I wanted pink, and love hearts. My outfit is too grown-up. I wanted a princess dress, but all the princess dresses are for 'little kids'.

I don't get it. Aren't I a little kid? I'm only seven.

Mommy says they only fit 'real' seven-year-olds. I'm not seven.

Daddy says I look eighteen.

Eighteen's a big number. That's how old mommy is.


Uncle Jacob says I look beautiful.

He takes my hand and kisses it.

He's a nice uncle.

I wonder what birthday present he got me.


My birthday cake isn't pink or chocolate mud like I wanted.

Mommy says it's a 'grown up' cake.

I'm only seven. I'm not grown up yet. Am I?

I want a pink cake!


My presents were weird.

Auntie Rosalie got me a bra and underpants that are very frilly and red.

Auntie Alice got me a wedding magazine.

I don't know why. I'm not getting married.

I'm only seven.

Mommy got me a pen that's very inky.

Daddy got me a car, which is a bit silly of him! I can't drive. I'm only seven.

Silly daddy.


It's really late. I'm tired. I want to rest.

Mommy and daddy and the rest of the family have gone now.

Uncle Jacob is still here.

He says he's going to give me my birthday present.

He asks if I'm ready.

Ready for what?

He doesn't say anything and instead kisses me on the lips.

I pull back.

What are you doing, Uncle Jacob?

He smiles a bit, and tells me that it's just Jacob now. No more 'uncle'.

I don't get it. He's always been my uncle. Why isn't he my uncle anymore?

He touches my chest – 'boobies'.

I don't like this.

What's he doing to me?

He's undoing my clothes.

I'm scared.

But I don't say anything.

He tells me we're playing a game.

It's not like other games we've played before.

He lifts my hand up, the one with his promise ring.

You're mine, Nessie. You'll always be mine.

He starts undoing his pants.

I'm scared.

He's my uncle.

I like Uncle Jacob.

He's always been nice to me.

But I'm still scared.

And it hurts.

I don't understand.

I'm only seven.