January 8, 2013
Rosie Bluejay
Chapter one: Faulted
The feeling of fear hit my stomach like someone had swung a bat into it. I started to back up, my instincts telling me situation was not good at all. My mouth hung open, waiting for the scream I wasn't sure would come. Eyes wide, pale face whiter than ever before, and my irregular heart beating out of my chest, I turned to run back into the forest, back home.
Home. To ever think of that place as home, I had to be insane. My eyes pricked with tears, as I briefly thought of why before the danger instinct came rolling back. Again, the urge to flee to run as far as I could from the clearing that would be my grave came again.
"Don't even think about it. If you don't fight, it will be over quicker. You won't feel a thing," a soft voice reassured yet threatened at the same time. Unable to control the instinct, knowing it was to be my end, I took one full step into the woods.
All I felt was a quick pair of jaws close over the back of my neck.
And I saw no more.
I sat up, shaking uncontrollably and soaked with perspiration. The sweat made me freezing on the chilly night, even though I was burning up under my skin. The moon was high in the sky, full and white as ever, reminding me that, no, I was not really dead or a vampire's next dinner. I panted from my racing heart and from the relief of reality.
I heard faintly the sound of footsteps running up stairs, so low it could only be made by a vampire. The door swung wide open to reveal a young woman, probably in her early twenties. Her pale, heart-shaped face was distorted in concern. The soft, caramel strands of her hair were windblown from running so fast.
"Renesmee, what's wrong? I heard you scream…" she trailed off softly, walking beside my bed and sitting close to my now sitting figure. I became confused, but my confusion was dispelled when a high, ladylike voice traveled up the stairs.
"It's nothing, Esme. Just another false alarm." I could practically hear Alice's eyes rolling. She had never likes me for some weird reason, but never explained why. Esme's eyes narrowed at the doorway, which pleased me. It made me feel better that at least someone was defending me.
Turning back to me, Esme's deep butterscotch eyes widened to form worry. She sighed. "Was it the same dream?" I nodded, my face ashamed.
"What is wrong with me? Every time, it's the exact same thing! The voice, the clearing, everything. Why can't my subconscious let this damn dream go?! Honestly, what is it!" I exclaimed. I held my head in my hands, wondering what could possibly be causing this repetitive nightmare.
"Nothing is wrong with you. It's just a silly nightmare, Renesmee. You can't control what goes on in your head while you're asleep," she soothed with her hand stroking my hair. "It's not your fault."
"Of course it's my fault. Since when is something not my fault?" I lifted my head from my hands, angry now. Of course it was my fault. All the discord in our family was blamed on me, whether they realized it or not.
Of course, right now I sound like a whining teenager, so I'll say it all at once.
My name, as you already know, is Renesmee. Yeah, I'm not crazy about it either, but my mom thought it was the greatest name in the world. But my mom plays a huge role in the destruction of my might-have-been life.
To put it bluntly, she died. I could go into all the gory details, but I won't, because I don't know them. But, anyways, she meant a lot to my family. Even for the short tome I knew her, she seemed like an awesome person. But if she hadn't been so selfless and stubborn and awesome, she would still be here.
And I wouldn't.
Which didn't bother me too much.
You see, my family misses her a lot. When my mom died, my dad went crazy, and I'm not exaggerating here. For a ling time, he stood there where she died and stared at her body, as if he could bring her back if he concentrated enough. It took all of them- Carlisle, Esme, Rosalie, Emmett, Japer and Alice- to move him. For years, all he did was sit in his room and stare vacantly out the window, oblivious to the passing time and to me.
When I was a child, I remember walking upstairs out of boredom, and seeing the closed door no one ever opened. I had been told never to go in there, that the room behind the door held no significance. Because there had bee simply nothing else to do, I had decided I was going to see what was I this room that was so unimportant I was not allowed to enter.
Hesitantly, I had opened the door a crack, and then a little bit more, inching the door open 'til it hit the wall. The space had been silent, so I had thought I wouldn't be discovered. How very wrong I was.
It was not the golden bed that had most surprised me. Nor did the stereo or the mountains of cds against a wall. Or the open door on the other side of the room.
No, it was the man staring out the wall made entirely if windows, standing perfectly still that had surprised me most. The astonishment quickly turned to fear.
Silently, I had closed the door and ram as fast as I could to find someone, anyone, to tell, Esme was nowhere to be seen, and neither were Carlisle, Emmett, Rosalie, leaving Alice and Jasper.
Deciding that Alice could be of most help, I had tugged on her shirt and told her in my silent way that a person was in the house. She had gotten really mad at me and made me sit on the living room until everyone else was home.
She had told Esme that I had been snooping about. I had quickly denied it, again saying that there was a strange man in the house. Esme had this surprised look on her face, which soon grew angry. She scolded me about disobedience and how I knew better. She sent me to my room and told me to stay there. The look on her face as I had left was angry and disappointed, but after an hour or so, I could've sworn I heard Esme sobbing.
"Don't be hard on yourself. And everything is not your fault, Renesmee," the present Esme sighed. I gave up arguing with her, which no one could ever do. Esme was just . . . too sweet. You could never get mad at her, or if you were, it didn't last long. Even though her family was in shambles and was dealing with bad depression herself, she could still comfort, she could still sympathize, she could still listen. Esme was tons stronger than anyone saw at first glance, and her toughness and strength could only be seen after years and tears of knowing her. She was soft, loving, and fiercely protective of those she cared about.
I leaned my head against her shoulder and in return was given a kiss on the head and a pair of cool arms wrapped around me in an embrace. We sat that way until I sank once more into unconsciousness.