A/N: So somebody *Coughs* Lea *Coughs*

Wrote some angst. And my dear friend, this is what happens when you write angst.

So yes, I'm aware this isn't one of the prompts, but too bad.

December 2nd. Bc I said so.

Marshall Taylor, Aged idk 30 or 40 something? I think 44? Idk what year it would be.

Marshal found out while she was working late at night on one of her current masterpieces, because she was a fashion designer, and her mother was so proud.

She was informed by a niece she didn't know she had. The phone nearly fell out of her hands when the words tumbled out of Renesemee's mouth.

Lydia Taylor was dead. Her baby sister. Gone.

She told her assistant to cancel all of her meeting for the next two weeks and book her a flight to New York.

She told her mother in person, the woman was already loosing it. She didn't need to hear the news over the phone.

But before she flew to New York, Before she told her mother or her girlfriend, she drank herself absolutely silly, and she almost walked off her balcony. But she didn't.

She fell to the ground and the bottle she had in her hand shattered upon impact with the ground.

She crawled away from the glass and leaned against the balcony railing, sobbing. Her baby sister was dead. She had been married, and Marshall wasn't invited to the wedding.

She missed everything, and she regretted it.

And now she had to attend her funeral.

She woke up the next morning with a nasty hangover, but she put on some designer sunglasses and a face of makeup, and flew to the big apple.

Knocking on that door was the hardest thing she ever did. Because she didn't know these people, she had never even met them.

But when that brunette answered the door she didn't recognize her at first. But she saw the little bits of her sister in her niece.

She didn't resemble her mother much, but if anyone could relate to that, it was marshall. She was a blonde in a sea of redheads. But she was definitely a Taylor. You couldn't tell her otherwise.

But the girl named Renesemee was so far from that. But that was okay.

Marshal didn't care. She was still family.

"I'm so sorry." Marshal whispered when she saw her niece. When she saw the little toddler behind her.

She had missed this girl grow up.

All the pain and suffering her sister had gone through.

Everything.

Marshal had missed everything.

But, even though her heart shattered like that bottle of gin had when it hit the floor, she still but her makeup on and smiled like she wasn't dying inside.

Because that wasn't what her mother had instilled in her since she was little.

Be polite and don't tell them your suffering. Play the part. Smile like you mean it.

Even if you don't.

Even if you want to die.

Just smile.