Author's note: I have read many stories with how it may have begun with Esme, but I somehow haven't found any which discuss the setting accurately. Few people seem to have wondered that a 16 year old girl in 1911 would still be climbing trees. This shows a brave and varied side to Esme, especially when she makes the incredibly brave decision to leave her abusive husband, regardless of social stigma. And so, adding more colour to the immortal Mother of the Cullen family, I give you Esme's journey, the way I see it.

(And since everyone else seems to be doing it, I shall feel all super-cool and say it: DISCLAIMER: I do not own Twilight or any of the lovely characters that Stephenie Meyer created. They all unquestionably belong to her.)


It all comes down to this. After whole lifetimes' worth of experiences, the end is here. For a reason I never would have foreseen in the decades of my existence.

But if there ever was a good reason to die, this is the best. Something worth giving up your life for, without question, without explanations.

She has been in our lives for a little over two months, and yet it feels she's always been there. For every one of us, it seems like our existences began with hers- whether it has been three centuries or six decades, or three months (in which case, they did begin together). We will fight tooth and nail for her, and if we had blood coursing through our veins, we'd have fought till the last drop was left in us.

There is a deep, throbbing pain in my chest, even though my heart has stopped beating ages ago. However good the reason is, I'm scared. Scared and saddened, because our family doesn't deserve to be wiped out. Not such a good, loving family, led by such a good, loving person.

The pain intensifies, and after years of tranquility, I feel vulnerable, miserable, and downright depressed. I feel human again- but the side of humanity I never want to experience again.

I watch them come. Perfectly formed, perfectly synchronized. A death machine. Slowly, menacingly advancing, ushering in our doom. All around me are my friends and family standing in stiff attention, waiting, fearing, hating. I look at their grim expressions, their absolute loyalty to us written clear on their faces.

In front of me I watch my son reach back to clasp his wife's hand firmly. This simple gesture makes me wonder more at their love than anything else. I watch them hold on to each other- so distant, barely touching, yet so close, and I watch them wait without a shudder in their immortal muscles.

And I feel a surge of euphoria within me. I feel ecstatic, proud, that they are my children, these two believers of Love, and I realize that no matter what happens now, we have already won. Love is always a triumph.

And so, with an eagerness to shred and burn vampire flesh, I wait, too.