These are not my characters, in no way do I own the Twilight series, but I do admire it and am thankful for it.
This can't be happening, I thought to myself, this is not happening to me. I'm just a kid, my family is good, this is not who I am, this simply is just not happening. These are the things that I kept telling myself during the ride home, to keep me in one piece, but I knew very well that this was happening to me.
I burst into the main house, tears still streaming down my hot face, "Dad? Dad!" I called frantically for him, sailing through the foyer into the living room. Rosalie appeared instantaneously.
"Renessmee," she called rushing to my side and throwing her arms around me. Her touch gave me only a fraction of the comfort and kind words that I needed right now. I collapsed into her arms, "What is it?" She murmured soothingly into my hair.
"I need to speak to my father, now." I said pressing my face against her hard shoulder.
"He's not here, what's the matter?" She asked her tone sweet and gentle.
I loved my aunt, but I didn't want to talk about this with her. I wanted my father, I needed him. She pulled away from me and looked me over, aside from the tears, I didn't think I looked any different, but the expression that crossed her face as she stared at me told otherwise. A look of horror, then fury filled her lovely features and without warning, she slapped me across the face. Her pale hand moved so quickly, so gracefully, that I didn't even see it coming. The only remnant that I had that proved she had actually done it was the venomous sting it left behind on my flushed cheek.
I cried out loud and stared at her in surprise, fearful to do anything else.
"What did you do?" She hissed angrily. Her voice was icy and terrifying. I couldn't say anything, I felt betrayed.
"Rosalie!" A familiar voice snarled from the far end of the house. I looked up and saw my father striding across the room at me, youthful, but authoritative and demanding of presence.
My face burned where she had hit me, within moments he was by my side, placing his cool hands on either side of my face to calm me down. His amber eyes were practically glowing as they stared at me, wide with concern. He too, saw something on my face that wasn't there before, but his reaction was not nearly as severe as Rose's.
"Are you alright?" He asked his voice as sweet and composed as an angel. No, dad, I'm not alright, I'm falling apart, I'll never be alright ever again, was what I wanted to say.
"I'm okay," I whispered stoically, nodding my head.
"Go upstairs," he ordered calmly, lowering his hands from me. I nodded my head again and slunk away.
Even though he told me to go, I crouched against the wall at the top of the stairs and hid myself so I could eavesdrop on what was about to go down between him and my aunt.
"What the hell is the matter with you? She's just a child." He snapped at her, his voice tight and clenched, I knew this tone, my dad was about to lose it.
"I could have done worse," she said coldly, crossing her arms across her chest.
"With parenting skills like that I'm relieved that you didn't live long enough to reproduce." He growled, trying to steady his voice. His hands were balled in fists at his sides.
She seemed to be able to ignore his comment, "Edward, you know what this means as well as I do. This is your entire fault; she should have never been allowed to go to school with the others. She's erratic, she's an adolescent human with superhuman powers and urges. I knew this was going to happen." My heart broke into smaller and smaller pieces as I listened to my aunt's treachery. I thought she loved me, I loved her.
I saw my father glance over at the staircase, he knew I was listening. He grabbed Rosalie by the forearm, so tightly that it would have left bruises if she were a regular person, and walked her toward the dining room. "Keep your voice down, she can hear you."
"I don't care Edward." She spat, yanking her arm away from him.
"She's not as hard and callous as you Rosalie, she has feelings and for some unknown reason she loves you dearly. I would suggest shutting your mouth before you say something you regret, because if you say anything that upsets my daughter, I swear I'll kill you."
That was enough, I couldn't listen any more, I needed to speak to him, I needed his support and kind words, and I needed to hear his voice when it wasn't laced with tension and anger. I'm sure there would be plenty of time for that. Fresh tears started to fall again and my shoulders began to tremble. I stood and perched at the top of the stairs, "Dad!" I called, he turned and faced me, "Dad, please!" My voice cracked and I began to cry again.
"I'll deal with you later," I heard him warn Rosalie. Within seconds he had mounted the massive staircase and was in front of me. He put his arm around my shoulders and I dropped my head against him, grabbing his sleeve tightly. "Come on," he said gently, letting me wipe my face all over his clean shirt.
We walked down the hallway to his old bedroom and I sat down on the leather couch hugging my knees into my chest. He sat down on the table in front of me and handed me a box of Kleenex that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Parents were good at things like that, even vampire parents.
"Renessmee," he said very solemnly, sitting on the low table in front of me, "what happened?"
"I…I killed a boy at school today," I whispered in a barely audible voice.
He cleared his throat nervously and let his face drop into his pale hands, "I was afraid of that." He said pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Dad…I'm sorry…I don't know what to do. I," painful sobs began to rattle from my chest, "I'd never felt that way before, I followed him, I tricked him, and then I," the words tasted like bile in my mouth, "I killed him." My father watched me silently; I wanted him to yell or discipline me or tell me how disappointed he was in me. But, he didn't, he never did, his patience and reverence was extraordinary. I started to get hysterical again, "the smell coming off him, it was like I wasn't me anymore, I was something else, and I just…"
"Renessmee, Renessmee, stop." He interceded, putting a hand up. I dropped my face into my knees and cried so hard that I thought I was going to gag myself. He was beside me in an instant, holding me. I clawed my way into his lap, which must have looked absolutely ridiculous because we were both nearly the same size now, and I was curling up against him like an infant.
"Why did this happen?" I whispered.
"It happens to all of us eventually," he said very slowly, furrowing his brow in concentration. "I was hoping you wouldn't have to go through it since you're part human, but, unfortunately, you're more like me than your mother in this department." He said stroking my shoulder.
"Have you ever killed someone?" I asked, looking up at him timidly. He seemed to deliberate on his response a bit and I immediately knew what the answer was. I didn't care, in my eyes, both of my parents were God almighty and could do no wrong.
"Yes," he said quietly, looking back at me sincerely. His gaze was timid and expectant, like he had disappointed me, how far that was from the truth.
"Has mom?"
A serene smile crossed his face at the mention of her, "your mother has never tasted human blood, not in this life at least." He replied proudly.
"Why is this happening?" I asked again. "Is it going to happen again?"
"I can't say. That has to be a decision you make for yourself."
I rose slowly from the couch and faced him. I couldn't believe what my father had just said, as if I would ever choose to hurt someone? Who would do that, who would decide that that was the path that was right for them?
"I took someone's life." I stated, anger rising. "I took him away from his future, his family," I went on, my voice taking on the sharp edge that my mother's would sometimes get when she was upset. "I took everything from him, just so I could have what I wanted and now, it's over, five minutes of pleasure in exchange for a lifetime lost. What am I going to do?"
"You're going to have to forgive yourself and use this experience as a tool to better yourself." My father said evenly, looking up at me.
"I'm a monster." I whispered, looking away.
"No you're not." He said firmly, standing. He took my chin and made me face him, "you must never say such a thing. You are a good person who made a terrible mistake. You can control this, you can overcome it and you will because it's what you want to do. You come from two very stubborn and determined bloodlines and you can do this."
"How do you know?"
"Because I could do it and you are ten times the person that I am." He suddenly looked very tired, the intensity that was in his golden eyes moments ago had flickered out. "I know this is very difficult for you Renessmee, and I'm sorry that your life has turned out this way."
"Dad, don't…"
"Your mother almost ended up like that boy the first time I saw her." He said shamefully looking away from me.
"I thought you two loved each other."
"Renessmee, to this day I have never met, and will never meet another person that can make me feel the way I do about your mother." He said tenderly." But at first, I wanted her blood. Her scent was… the second she entered the building I could smell her and it consumed me." His words became more frenzied as he began to pace around the room. "I thought of how I could get her alone, I thought of following her home, killing your grandfather if he walked in, killing anyone who got in my way. I hadn't taken a human life in decades, and all of the sudden I was determined to have a mass slaughter of anyone who came between me and my urges." He paused and smiled sadly at me, "so you see, I know exactly how you felt today when that boy walked in."
"I had never felt like that before, ever." I said fearfully, "I lost all sense of reason. Rose hates me now."
"Rose is irrelevant, she adores you, she practically raised you the first weeks of your birth, you're like her own. But, Rose is also very selfish and fearful. When something happens, it's catastrophic to her and she looks out for number one. She can't help it, but it doesn't make it right. I'll take care of Rose, don't worry about that, she's the least of your problems." He assured me.
"How did she know?"
A fearful look flashed across my father's young face. He sighed and stood up, "come with me."
I stood and followed him down the hall and into the bathroom; he clicked on the light and positioned me in front of the mirror. I looked at myself hesitantly, nothing seemed different, and then I saw it. My eyes had changed color; they had gone from a warm, pleasant brown to a harsh frightening crimson color. My father stood behind me in the mirror, his eyes were amber and pleasant, warm and intriguing, nothing like the monstrous bloody color that stood in mine.
I let out a quiet gasp and touched my face "why do they look like that?"
"It's what happens to us when we consume human blood." He said softly, as if his words would shatter me if they were uttered too loudly.
I stared at my face, horrified. I looked closely, in search of some remnant of the warm chocolate brown color that was indicative of me. I couldn't find any trace of it; now all that remained was the horrifying crimson color. I felt like I looked nothing like myself. Tears rolled down my face and my father settled his hands gingerly on my shoulders in a gesture of comfort. I whirled around and shouted at him, "I can't go back to school looking like this!"
My father opened his mouth to speak, and then hesitated, "Renessmee, I don't think you can go back to school." He said carefully, drawing out the words.
Okay, this was okay, he was right, maybe I needed to lay low for a few days, a few days until the quirks had been worked out and my eyes changed back. When the thick, sweet metallic blood of that student had left my system and I was normal again. That was understandable. "When can I go back?" I whispered, knowing what the real answer would be.
His eyes darted from side to side and for a moment he looked like an awkward teenager rather than the stoic, confident rock of a man that I had grown accustomed to. "I don't think you'll be returning to Forks High ever," he murmured. I could tell that it hurt him to say it.
It hurt him to say it, but that didn't make it any easier to hear. "But dad, I have friends there and classes, and I like it there! I feel like a normal kid when I'm at school!"
He winced when I said the word, 'normal' and I watched as the pain spread across his beautiful face.
"I'm sorry love, but we're going to have to leave."
The final blow, I thought to myself, my chest began to hurt and constrict, like he had just punched a hole through it, leaving nothing but tattered edges. "What about Jacob?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"Jacob can't come with us."
"Why not? He's part of our family too! I know he'd come, he wouldn't let me leave without him!"
"Renessmee, Jacob has responsibilities he has to attend to here, he can't leave La Push." What was he saying? What did he mean Jacob had responsibilities to attend to here? Jacob didn't seem much older than I was. He didn't have a house, or a career or anything like that, what responsibilities did Jacob have? I was confused and frightened. Tears had not stopped rolling down my face since I had looked in the mirror and now I could feel the sobs and gasps creeping their way back up my throat again.
I felt like I was going to get sick, "No, no we can't leave," I said shaking my head frantically. "I can't leave him, he's my best friend dad…I can't, we're…" I was going to get sick. "Get out!" I screeched at him, "leave me alone!" I rushed toward the toilet; my poor father looked lost, like he wanted to help me but didn't know where to begin. His brow furrowed in confusion and a look of angst hung in his eyes. I leaned over the toilet, unable to hold it in any longer. My stomach lurched and my throat tightened, bloody vomit spewed from my mouth, sharp and tinny. He hurried over to me, dropping to his knees behind me, prepared to pull back my hair or rub my back or something of the like. Teenagers tend to not take kindly to babying at this age and he was suddenly making me furious. "Don't!" I hissed. He froze where he was.
I leaned my arms against the seat and laid a hot, tear stained cheek on top of the soft fabric of my sweatshirt. "Please just go away," I whispered between tears.
My father said nothing and stood slowly at human pace behind me. He backed up and although I didn't turn to look at him, I could feel his eyes on me, trying to anticipate what would happen next. I think I had frightened him a little and immediately felt guilty. He pulled a hand towel off one of the racks and dropped it cautiously beside me and I heard him swallow hard as he turned and left the room. As the door closed behind him, fresh tears welled up in my eyes and I spat another mouthful of blood into the toilet.