Disclaimer: *to Stephenie Meyer* Hey Steph, can I have Twilight?

Steph:Pft! No.

Me: *pouts* Meanie

"Look at me!" I yelled at him, "Look at me and love me!" How could he do this to me, to his daughter that he supposedly loved? If he truly loved us both, then he would stay, like he was supposed to. But I guess he would have to leave his mistress to do that. But who am I kidding? I'm lucky if he even looks at me in the morning. Lucky if he even kisses my when he leaves for "work" But I know I don't have to take this. But I love him so. I mean, how couldn't I? We were high school sweethearts. We were supposed to stay together forever. He just looked sadly at me as he grabbed his last suitcase and left out the door to his black Pontiac.

I looked as he left the driveway and then I turned to my four-month old daughter, Lizzie. She had my brown curly hair with her Fathers blue eyes.

Lizzie just looked at me in wonder at why I had a pained expression. I just smiled weakly at her and picked her up for her nap. When I had put her down and read her a story I went into our- I mean my, bedroom and looked in it. It was surprisingly bare save for a few family pictures, a desk, bed and a bedside desk and lamp.

The mirror on the closed bathroom door revealed a disastrous looking woman with curly brown hair and vivid green eyes that were puffy and bloodshot. I looked to my desk, the one my father had built for me when I was 16 years old, and knew that inside the secret compartment in the drawer, held a silver revolver. I walked over to the desk and opened the compartment and looked longingly at the gun.

I went to grab it but stopped myself thinking of my young daughter and how I couldn't do that to her. No matter how miserable I was. I pushed myself away from the desk and fell onto my bed. As I was about to fall asleep, Lizzie woke up and started to wail. I pushed myself up off the bed and went into the nursery. I picked her up and tried to calm her down by bouncing up and down.

Just as I was about to put her down, I heard the phone ring.

Five bucks says it's my mother calling to say how sorry she is about the break-up. I swear, that woman can find things out faster than the fecking gossiping hens down my street. And that's saying something. I answer the phone to hear the shrilling tone of Donna, my mother dearest.

"Oh Avie, you poor dear, I told you that boy was no good for you." She said, though ironically so, she was one of the first people to congratulate us on the engagement and said it would last.

Sigh.

"Hello Mother, of course you did, how are you and dad?" I ask tiredly.

The next hour I spent telling my mother not to come up and "help me through my horrible, saddening time of heartache", and wishing Lizzie would wake up again crying so I use that as an excuse to get off the phone.

"Mother, I have to go, I need to feed Lizzie, and I'll call you later alright?" I say as I try to untangle myself from the phone. I sigh deeply as I hang up the phone and look at the clock. It was still too early to drink. . . .Oh the hell with it, I quickly go to the liquor cabinet and grab the vodka and pour myself a drink. It worked in taking the edge off.

After an hour of this, I had a pretty good buzz going and so not quite in my right mind. And in doing so, I thought it would be most bright to call up my ex on his cell phone and tell him in fluent Spanish, French, Italian, and Scandinavian what an incredible douche bag/ man-whore/ asshole he was. And after that, I went upstairs and promptly fell asleep only to wake up at four in the morning from the wailing of my daughter.

I walk into her room to see and dark figure over her crib.

I freeze in fright. They try to shush Lizzie as her wails continue. I slowly creep up behind the person only to have them whip around to face me. The person has a beautiful face with golden eyes and bronze hair. My breathe catches in my throat as I look at Edward.

"Ava," He whispers.

That was all it took to make me faint.

So, what do you think? If you have any comments on it, review away. Rateing would be nice as well but hey, Beggars can't be choosers.

~Lyn (Ms-Lady-Phoenix)