Jacobs POV


I'm tired. Yes tired. Now before you misunderstand, I am rather aware that people say they are tired all the time without really meaning it wholeheartedly. As for me, I mean it. I have always considered myself to be quite a hard working intellectual with a love for a good book and smart company –which is awfully scarce-. However, I have never really had an hour of peace since they moved in.

Who am I referring to exactly?

They are the spawn of Satan himself come to ruin my life and destroy my personal property with their tiny toddler feet and dimpled cheeks.

Perhaps, my reclusive mentality served to be a magnet for them. Maybe I drew them in like moths to a flame -or maybe their goddamned parents need to consider investing in child leashes-. But digress, I have always been a bit of a hermit both in and out of the community. I keep to myself for one single reason: People have the tendency to hurt you . I have yet to come into contact with a single person who is capable to impress me with their characteristic prowess without them sidling their way into my heart and causing me nothing but pain.

You see, at the age of twelve, my parents passed away and afterward I was forced to live with my Fathers' elder sister, Aunt Tibbiah. She was nice enough however, her seven rowdy annoying assed kids -all of which were older than I- were a whole different story. They were involved in the community, active parts of every school club and all around perfection.

Me being the emotionally withdrawn mess that I was, I didn't do much but breathe, eat, sleep and go to school. My grades were average and I didn't possess any talents that would have made my Aunt nor my deceased parents proud had they been alive to see me grow older.

I was ostracized due to the fact that I "suppressed" individuality or whatever the fuck that means. I wasn't the carefree "let's go roll in mud and do other manly things together" child that my Aunt wanted me to be, which caused her a great deal of frustration. I had simply lived by the notion that surviving each day was in fact a job well done and if I had to live in the shadow of my cousins to do that, then…I would.

When I moved out of my Aunts house, I struggled through my twenties before I stumbled upon Forks, Washington. The community was quiet, full of well to do people and guys with moustaches and what not. But as soon as I reached a level of comfort, they moved in.

It wasn't like the Cullen's were a bad bunch, the parents were nice... A bit bizarre in their ways but nice all the same.

Their children were their opposites as they tended to be loud and nosy. They were always in my yard, interrupting my gardening session or stomping around on my porch until I opened the door and glared at them –after which they simply giggled and ran across our intersecting yards toward their own porch-. They always had questions and never took "I don't know" as an answer. Quite personally, it felt as if they got out of bed on a mission to exhaust every adult they came into contact with, namely me seeing as though they didn't bother anyone else all that much.

And here I was on my knees, thumbing through my garden trying to find a special inner peace that can only be obtained when the Cullen children are either taking their afternoon nap or are away with their father. (It was the vacation time, so school was not coming to save the day.) Alice, or Princess Alice as she demanded I call her, came and sat next to me. Note: these children tend not to process glares for their social meaning of "go away".

So when Princess Alice plopped herself down next to me on the bed of green grass, I did not feel the need to waste a stare. She sat quietly, her shoulder brushing mine with every unnecessary heavy breath she took in and I found it surprising that she merely sat without talking. It was definitely new and something I could get used to.

She gave me a side long glance, then peered at the garden, then at me again. She huffed. Then she shifted so that she was on her knees too, aggressively poking at the soil. She huffed again, rocked back onto her heels and then finally she opened her mouth and said,

"What are you doing, Mr. Black?"

I looked at her with a bland expression. It was obvious what I was doing. Yet there she was, with an expectant look on her face, bright blue doe eyes awaiting my answer.

"I'm gardening, Alice," I said, trying my very best not to sound too annoyed.

"I can see that," she announced, "I meant, what are you gardening?"

This time I actually did not mind her question. It seemed she was vaguely interested and not simply asking to fill her quota with the devil. So I stopped and looked at her. Then I turned to the garden and pointed to the blocks as I told read off the names of the flowers I had been planting.

"Daffodils, hyacinth, and tulips," I said proudly. My garden was not big but it made me happy and these flowers were sure to last all summer.

I looked at Alice.

She looked over the garden as though making her own assessment. Then after what appeared to be a look of appreciation she looked up at me and broke into a smile so big my mouth hurt just glancing at her.

"Could we grow roses next?" She asked.

"No." She looked at me, her smile shrinking gradually, and then evolving into a deep frown. The bad boy on my shoulder whooped in victory. However the rest of me did not share in the celebrations. Something about those blue eyes and their dull resignation made me feel... something. A bit sad for turning her down, a pang of guilt maybe. Goddammit they're ancient evil is working on me…

"Why do you want to plant roses, Alice?" I asked. I knew I was opening a door that was sealed shut for a fucking reason, but it felt like an "out of body" experience. I saw myself engaging her in conversation, and I could not stop it. Oh God, no. She beamed immediately.

"My uncle is coming to visit. He loves roses. White ones," she said, sizing up my garden for her prospective occupants. I looked at her for a while, as she crossed her arms and smeared dirt along her dress sleeves. Did she say uncle? Another Cullen to disrupt my life.

How wonderful. Alice looked up at me and I realized that I missed a valuable part of the conversation.

"What?" I asked.

"I said, he's coming to spend the whole month with us. He's a teacher in the city. He says he's looking for peace and quiet," I looked at her as though she had grown a second head. Why on earth would a –sane- person who knew (and is related to) these demons want to come here for "peace and quiet"?

"His name is Edward," she stated as if I asked or cared.

"Who is Edward?" I asked.

"My uncle. Edward Cullen. He's daddy's little brother," she replied. She was now inspecting my tools. As she reached for my garden shovel I heard her mother bellow her name. I silently thanked the Heavens for the interruption, gently taking the shovel from her hands.

"I'll be right back, Mr. Black!" she said on her sprint home.

"Take all the time you need," I grumbled back, thinking it best to end my task here so I could shuffle inside and slam my head against the wall. The sun was beginning to become unbearable anyway. On that note, I collected my tools and returned them to their rightful places in my garage, letting out a noise of contentment as I stumbled into the house and the air-conditioning greeted me with a friendly yet icy slap on the cheek.

I work as an editor, and I get the privilege to work from home. It limits my contact with the countless morons of the world but also grants me with time to do other human things, like eat alone and sing country music under my breath as I scroll through pathetically written manuscripts.

I carried myself up the staircase just to the left of my small kitchen to bathe before getting back to work. I really needed some kind of stress relief.

Shortly thereafter, I was in the process of going through my second manuscript of the day when the screech of a child startled me from beyond my office window.

"Hi, Mr. Black!"

I settled back into my chair, I knew that voice like I knew my garden. "Hello, Jasper," I responded calmly looking out my office window on the ground floor. He was peeking his head over the windowsill; where his toes undoubtedly strained to allow him to peer inside. He was a tiny boy.

"Whatcha doing?" he asked. I was starting to think these children were tag teaming me or something.

"I'm reading, Jasper," I replied.

Typically if you opted out of responding to their questions, they simply scampered away. Usually...However Jasper seemed to be on a special mission. He suddenly dropped from my window, fingers and eyes disappearing from view. I heard his little feet stomp to my front porch.

Sadly -and expectedly- I heard a knock on the front door.

I ignored it. Again in my attempt to rid myself of him. As I noted before, these children did not heed hints. He knocked again, only stopping when I grudgingly opened the front door. I looked at him, irritation seeping out of my freshly cleaned pores. He looked up at me, straining at my 6"4 inches. He broke out into a smile that screamed innocence, I refused to be deterred.

"Jasper, I'm busy," I said, in my most professional voice, fixing my mess of a ponytail at the nape of my neck. He looked at me and smiled some more. His teeth gleamed a glossy white and his eyes scrunched up due to the strain his smile was causing. Why haven't these children lost teeth yet? It was unnerving to see so many teeth on such a small creature.

"But Mr. Black, I really need to talk to you," he said, his teeth finally being covered by the fold of his pink lips. I looked up and stared into his empty yard. How is it that his parents were never around? How irresponsible.

I moved to the side and allowed the miscreant into my home. He skipped in, taking a look around, no doubt casing the joint. He placed a spongy palm onto some of my vases, but seeing as I was not thoroughly fond of household ceramics, his interests were quite limited. I cleared my throat, when I noticed the little punk was ignoring me. He turned around and a small blush crept onto his cheeks.

"What is it, Jasper?" I was beyond annoyed, folding my arms across my chest and tapping my foot against the carpet. Jasper looked up at me and took a deep breath. I should have realized that this was a bad sign, inhaling surplus amounts of oxygen typically meant they were going to ask for something.

"My uncle is coming next week to visit. I really wanted to surprise him with a present, but if Mommy finds out she'll get mad. I was wondering if you could keep something here for me, please." He gushed out the words.

Bingo.

"No."

He gave me a horrendously cute expression.

"But Mr. B," he called me that frustrating nickname and I huffed, "Uncle Edward really likes snakes and last weekend I got him one from the pet store. I saved all my money for four months to buy him one." I looked at him, astonished. I was so taken aback that I stood, mouth agape, for a moment. Then I finally pulled together all the diplomacy I had in me and said:

"GET OUT JASPER!"

Now, I am well aware that this was not the best way to handle the situation, but when the words left my lips I was astonished by the audacity that these children possessed.

Then I realized they're just that, children.

Jasper yipped and, like a good little boy, he bowed his head and slowly trudged out of my home, not before he said to me,

"Please don't tell Mommy about the snake."

He then ran across to his home, arms flailing as they caught wind. I slammed the door behind him making note that I was NEVER getting married and I was NEVER having children. I also noted not to Mrs. Cullen anything, she was bound to find out on her own rather soon as her children were not equip with mouths that kept secrets.

I went back to my manuscript. As I sat there, reading a rather shotty excuse for a manuscript -the author was butchering the Hell out of the English language-, I thought back on my day.

It seemed that this "Uncle Edward" was an event to be had at the Cullen residence. It simply solidified my notion of him being just as disruptive as the rest of the clan.

And to be frank, I hated him already.