I do not own Twilight – it belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

Forever and Always

October, 1993

Age five. Age five, it's the age when you're fearless, you're irrational, brave, determined, proud. Age five, it's the age when looks don't matter, it's the only age when what's on the inside counts.
Yet age five, you're still convincing your father to look under the bed for monsters. You're still running to your mother for guidance, hugging her leg whilst you peer solemnly up into her eyes. Age five is when you still believe in fairies and angels and Santa Clause. Age five is when everything is simple.

When you're five you have a thick, secure blanket fastened over your world, it blocks out everything harmful, it protects you from the bad. It keeps you away from the truth. But when you get older, the blanket begins to fray, it develops holes, until there are gaps big enough for some truth to seep in. Some of the horrors of humanity are able to climb into your world.

When you're five, that blanket you have, it's called innocence.

.

I giggled loudly, tying a loop in his laces. "Hold still, Em!" I commanded. I was forever trying to teach him how to tie a bow.

'Build a tee pee
Come inside
Close it tight so we can hide
Over the mountain
And around we go
Here's my arrow
And here's my bow!'

I stood up, raising my eyes to my reflection. I was a vision. I was just like my mother, an identical copy. I gazed admirably at my mother's bright red lipstick, smashed crudely over my lips. I weighed the slithers of beads that adorned my wrists and neck in my hands, the tight blonde ringlets of my hair getting caught in between the gold and plastic string.

My eyes slid over to the other person taking up half the mirror. Emmett. My father's tie slung wearily around his neck, his hair parted and gelled. His feet stuffed forcefully into the nine-sizes-too-large shoes.

We were five, playing Mothers and Fathers and were innocent.

I was five, still believed in boy-germs, that the world was perfect, that a certain boogie-man occupied the underside of my mattress and that miracles didcome true.

Emmett and I were best friends, I loved him like a brother and he adored me like a sister.

God, weren't we innocent?