This story is special for my friend, Duck. Almost no one will know who Duck is, but she will, and that is what matters.

Duck was a tiny little bit sad because my other story (Auntie Esme's Son) and almost every other story idea I've had, were/are all-human. So this one is for you x3!

Disclaimer: I Still Do Not Own Twilight. Damnit. Edward, one day you'll be mine. I'll wait forever. Ack Ack.

Life After You

Since Edward had disappeared, I began to change. From an always exited and weird girl, I became the anti-social and quiet girl who had no friends.

The divorce of my parents hadn't helped much, either.

My parents had tried everything to make me happy and eventually help me out of my depression. Eventually, my depression was still there, but my mom not. I think she stayed with my dad, to not give me another reason on top to stay depressed. But she couldn't help it when she met Phil: when she first saw him, she immediately fell in love and stayed that way ever since. But the same could be told about Phil. The divorce from my parents wasn't long after, because, after all, my mother had really loved my dad and didn't want to lie to him, and now, two years late, they were happily married, and I lived with my father in our old but nice house.

My time with Edward was so long ago that I almost had forgotten what he looked like if it wasn't for the pictures – though I'm so ashamed to admit it, you can't imagine – but the pain never went. What I'd had with Edward was beyond friendship, but I'm realizing that only now, now I'm older. Even though the last time I saw him I was four years old, the pain when I discover he isn't there, is brand new every morning.

I turned another time and pulled the blanket over my head again. I didn't want to come out of my bed. The disappearance from Edward had made me grow up faster. As if I had been frozen on an age and all of a sudden had been thawed when he was gone. All at once became mature. I cautious peeked from under the blanket to my painting. Edwards painting.

The painting I actually had made Edward for his birthday, hung thus now in my room. The day Edward's mom had cleaned his room up a little, when he was gone for a week, she returned it to my house. I did not want to see it, but my mum had my dad hang it on my wall when I had somewhat calmed down.

Thinking of Edward's room, I had leaved my book Emma there yesterday, so I did have to get out of my bed, to pick it up. And I needed a refreshment of music. The CD's I'd had borrowed from his room a week ago, were beginning to sound too well-known.

Edward's room was never cleared out by his parents. Even now, five years after he disappeared, his room was still there. When I needed some time alone, but didn't want to be in my own room, I always could walk in by the neighbors. Edward's parents even knew what I needed, like, always. They truly were like second parents to me.

On three I would jump out of my bed. So I counted to three and stopped. It took me four times to count to three before I actually did it. The seconds thereafter I stood still next to my bed, a wave of cold air enfolded me, having me shivering.

I withstood the urge to creep in my bed again, and ran to the bathroom instead. My father would have gone to his work by now, so I could shower as long as I liked without having to endure his preach about water costing money too.

Half an hour later, I fished a warm jumper and pants out of my closet and got dressed. After that, I made myself breakfast. Depressed or not, chocolate sprinkles made my day always a little bit better. (A/N: In Holland we put chocolate sprinkles on our bread as for example jam. You should try it, it's really great :) ) Then I took my key got out to the neighbors.

Mostly I read in Edwards room. Or thought about him.

I liked to read very much. It had me thinking about Edward. It helped me to escape the reality I hated so much.

I had learnt to read at four years old, thanks to Edward, and I became good at it, really good, when he disappeared.

I knew Edward's father Carlisle would be at work in the hospital. He was a really good doctor, and I was always very glad when he was the one who helped me when I had broken something again. He was also very nice, and insisted I called him 'uncle Carlisle' instead of Mister Cullen.

Aunt Esme was gone, too. Her note on the fridge was addressed to me and said she was buying groceries. She sure had expected me. Her note also said she had gone as early as possible and should be back soon; I must make myself at home and get myself something to drink already.

I got myself a glass of lemonade and placed the empty glass on the counter before I went to Edward's room. I smiled when I saw my copy of Emma laying on his bed, where I had laid it the day before.

After I'd had enough from my own children books, I had begun to read Edward's. his books were amazing. He had piles and piles of them, and they were all unique. Edward had had a really good taste of books. But when I became seven years old, my mother sometimes let me play on her computer, and instead of playing stupid games, I searched for books I maybe would like.

That's how I found the book Emma, using Google. I begged my parents to have the book, and although I'm normally not spoiled, my father bought it me the same week.

I opened my book and read from where I was in the story. When I was at a new chapter, I closed the book. I had to store the CD's away before I would forget it: Edward's CD were sorted by alphabet, and it would be nice if I would keep it that way.

After I had chosen a couple of new CD's to bring to my house – I had chosen a couple of CD's such as Dookie and Achtung Baby – I opened my book again and read further.

Emma really was my favorite book of all times. I've read it repeatedly and enjoyed the story each and every time all over again. I really don't know exactly what in the book attracts me, but I love it. It's kinda a light-hearted story, but still interesting and exciting, because you can't wait to find out who marries who. Upon that, I adore Mr. George Knightley. And I'm but 9 years old.

Some people are finding it weird that a nine year old girl reads so much and such thick books, but my parents are used to it and I don't know better. Since I don't really have friends, I have much time, and I use that time mostly to read. Because I'm so smart, people tell my parents I'm gifted, but I don't really care about that. I just accidentally happen to have a big vocabulary and know random stuff because I read so much, that's all.

I also really and truly love music. That's another something I took over from Edward. Next to his piles of books, he also has piles and piles of CD's. I don't really have a certain taste in music, 9 out of 10 times I love what I hear. I mostly just listen to Edward's music, it doesn't bother his parents. They know Edward wouldn't have wanted it otherwise.

When I heard aunt Esme rumble in the kitchen, I ran downstairs. After I received a stroke on the head, I helped her to prepare lunch. The rest of my day was just as dull and plainly as always.

~xoxo~ Mrs BrainySmurf