Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus.

All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.

Hey you! Yes, you. You're amazing and send the most humbling words of support. I'm truly blessed to have you all in my corner.

On we go…

-Leslie

Epilogue

Sixteen: An ordinary number for most.

Sixteen for me was anything but ordinary; a number that seemed to take a lifetime to arrive.

While most sixteen year olds were planning their over the top, extravagant, sweet sixteen parties, I was, however, planning to open an old, worn-out leather bound journal; a portal to my very past.

Within those pages, words were written in two different sets of handwriting. A messy scrawl: seemingly my mother's handwriting. Then there was an elegant, manly script that would have to be my father's.

Each word that passes through my line of sight ingrained itself there in my brain, along with my heart.

The words played out like a fairy tale, one that a person would never read in some childhood book. They would not get their happily-ever-after, nor would their endless happiness be met with the wails of a child; something they had both longed to hear.

During the first week of April, mere weeks before the arrival of their first and only child, a drunk driver veered through the center lane, clipping several cars, and crashing head-on into my parent's car.

That night was a fatal night in the lives of Edward and Isabella Cullen. A night, where the dynamic duo, whose plans were to save people in need, one person at a time; whose dreams were to be the best parents they knew they could be.

That night, clouded by nothing but an endless nightmare, the families of both young ones prayed they would make it through that fateful night in that dimly lit waiting room; waiting for any news on their loved ones.

That night at 1:08 a.m. time of death was called out by a young surgeon filled with nothing but weary sadness. My father was the first go, but the news wouldn't be spread to the family until my mother was seen too as well.

1:16 a.m. - Time of death; Time of Birth. I was extracted from my mother's body as the veteran surgeon pronounced her lifeless body dead.

This was an occasion that was supposed to be filled with endless visitors. Those who came to see the newest arrival; to coo over the swaddle of pink fabric, chubby cheeks and soft gurgles; no this was an occasion that was overshadowed with tragedy and grief.

So at sixteen, I laid cuddled beneath the two handmade quilts that my own mother crafted herself, wrapped up in the warmth of my parents words and memory-filled love story.

I imagine this to be the next best thing, next to having my parents bodies here wrapped around me during what was supposed to be a joyous milestone in my young life. But it doesn't work that way, even if I continued to wish for that exact scenario happening each year I blow out the candles on my cake.

I often wondered as a child why I survived, what made me any more special than my parents, but now I took comfort as I read the words they had written, knowing that I was here to make sure my parents lived on. Through me, they would live forever.

Content with the knowledge I have gained through their words and the strongest love I had ever felt flows through my veins, I closed my eyes and wept for what I would never have.

I may have grown into the teenager I am today because of my grandparents love, but I knew it would never be the same as the love they could have given me.

I drifted to sleep; dreams filled with wavy, mahogany hair and a crooked smile. This was the time of day when my parents gave their love to me.

"Good night, our sweet child," they whispered in unison.

Wow! So this has been a great journey for me. It's so nice that you all joined me, filled my inbox with amazing reviews, and now I'm sure you all want to kick my ass for not filling you in on the ending. I apologize, well, no, actually I don't. It's great to be able to step back from a story filled with lemons and just write something that shows off a little of my other sides. I like to prove myself from time to time, open up my mind and let my fingers carry me on a journey that no one would see coming.

Much love to you all!

With sadness, I now hit the complete button for this story.

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