I Was Five And He Was Six Novels & Stories

Did I go back in time? I rush downstairs, taking two steps at a time. My father's voice booms from the main hall, frantic and urgent. I see him being lifted onto a stretcher, paramedics shouting orders. Beside him, a younger version of me-six years old-clutches Chase's hand. Their faces are a blur of panic and confusion.

"Geez sis. I care about you too of course.. so how are you?" "Stupid." I mumbled and he flicked hard my arm, I groaned in pain and punched his arm. "What are you 5?" "We fight a lot when we were 5.” "Are you that stupid Luke.. when you're 5 I was 1, asshole dumbass." I said and he laughed. "You already poked my eyes when you were 1.. I cried a lot because of you.” "Way the go creating stories brother because I'm a good girl, you're the one who poked my eyes." I hissed and he laughed.

The other kids at my kindergarten would cry over a piece of candy or throw a tantrum because they didn't get a flower. I wouldn't. My candy was always the biggest one, and I always got the first flower. The teachers liked me, saying that this boy never gave them trouble. Only I knew I wasn't really obedient. I was just waiting for the day the number counted down to zero. Later, my sister was born, and I could see even more guilt in my parents' eyes. When Heidi was five years old, she secretly ate the meat in my bowl. When my mother found out, Heidi was beaten.

he added with a smug little grin. I couldn’t help staring at him. His confidence, the way he spoke—it was like talking to a tiny adult. And yet, there was something incredibly innocent about him. “What are you doing here all alone? Where are your parents? Isn't a little like you supposed to be in a daycare or something? How old are you? Let me guess, Six?” “Nah…for the records, I’m not little,” he pouted. “And I’m seven. Not six.”

Aisha's POV The night air grew colder as the door to the room was knocked softly. Julien and I exchanged glances before I stood up and opened it slowly. A teenage boy stood in the doorway, thin and with tousled hair, beads of sweat on his forehead. He looked nervous, but the glint in his eyes showed a bravery I admired. “Excuse me… I’m Dimas, Mrs. I’m the third child of Mrs. Narti,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry for coming late. I heard from the neighbors that you were taken to the hospital.”

A giant cake sat on top of the table alongside a spread of Natalie's and my favorite dishes. Ivy picked Natalie up and brought her onto the stage. Then, she picked up the mic and glanced at everyone in the crowd before her eyes eventually landed on me. In a tender voice, she announced, "Today is my daughter's fifth birthday, and the sixth anniversary of my marriage to my husband, Damian Quinton." She continued, "Throughout the last six years, my life has had its ups and downs. But thankfully, I've always had Damian and our baby girl by my side.

The first real friends I have, in fact. I remembered seeing Ronnie being abused by his stepdad when he was just a little boy. Good thing that my Dad kicked him out of the pack, we don’t need somebody like him in our midst. I thought of the black haired boy from years ago, smaller than the boys of his age. I was five, he was six, but I was a foot bigger than him at that time. His bony frame was littered with all kinds of wounds and bruises.

He rocked the pen in his right hand as he slowly raised his head and gazed at me. "I am writing a letter." Well what? "You're writing a letter? Like .... Do you really know how to write?" I chuckled and ruffled his hair. His eyes flashed with disappointment and he made a face that was supposed to be angry but made my smile deeper and wider. "I am five! I know how to write okay." He huffed and folded his hands and looked away. "Oh well, that's good to know. But I thought you're only three." "I am going to turn five next month." That was cute.

"Shhh.....baby I a m not hurt. It's its becoz o f- becoz of...ohh my god...!! Shh....dont cry okk. Its it's quite normal. I - I will tell you about i t later baby okk.. Now b e m y good girl that you are and get u p. Come I will help you i n freshing u p today okay..." H e told me like am a 5 years old kid. I just nodded m y head and did what h e told m e to d o. But one thing i s for sure, I will definitely Ask him about i t.

Maybe a 6-year-old me, hiding as she watched them cry. The six-year-old me walked away. I looked at her and then back to my parents. Did they know the man who died? I looked again at the 6-year-old me and followed her to the kitchen where I left my book but when I arrived there it was gone. All I saw was dad and me hugging. An older version. Closer to my age. I was 15 at the time. My eyes widened. I think I know why I remember this one especially. My eyes began to tear up.