The room was blurred with movement. A frantic husband looked on in terror as the first sounds of a shattering bones and ripping flesh sounded throughout the room. The smell of copper filled the home, yet no one felt the urge to go after the scent. They were all too horrified by the scene unraveling before them. The ravishing blond woman who had hovered over the now breaking body for weeks was now forced into action. She scooped the swollen woman into her arms and tore up the stairs, into a bedroom on the second floor. Gently depositing the rippling mass of flesh onto the hospital bed she stepped back. The terrified husband screamed at her to retrieve morphine as the woman on the bed began to convulse harder. She was screaming for someone to get him out, begging and pleading as the blood vessels in her eyes ruptured and turned the pale whites of her eyes the shade of dark crimson. Blood poured from her open mouth, choking her screams as she begged for someone to save the child that was frantically fighting to get out of her womb. Her skin was changing colors so rapidly it was had to discern what was happening. The veins in her engorged stomach began to burst in the same fashion as the ones in her eyes had. The blood spread under her pale skin, bruising it as tiny fists and feet pummeled against it from within. The beautiful woman with the flaxen hair had returned to the room before a full second had passed. A syringe was inserted into the flailing arms of the dying woman, injecting a large dose of morphine into her system and everyone prayed it would ease her suffering. Seconds later the blond bared a scalpel and pressed it against the rippling mass that was the brunette's pregnant stomach. The morphine had not had time to spread but she fought off the screams of the woman's husband, replying that there was no time and that they were dying. Surprisingly, the brunette gave off no screams as the blade pierced her flesh and a crimson fountain poured from her womb. She was still choking, and unable to voice her needs that she was trying so frantically to get out. The blonde had turned sinister as the mass of blood pouring out before her, hissing in delight before she was assaulted by the dark skinned boy who had hovered near the pregnant woman for the past few minutes. She didn't fight and allowed herself to be pulled from the room, her face immediately remorseful. The woman on the bed began to convulse harder as the crackling of her bones grew louder before she gave one last shudder and collapsed against the hard frame of the hospital bed, her spine shattered by the force of the creature within. The russet skinned boy was hovering over the bleeding mass on the table, breathing air hard and deep into the lungs that no longer worked on their own as her husband ripped at her stomach with his bare teeth, tearing through steel flesh to extract the creature within. Seconds it was freed and the new father looked down on the tiny creature in his arms, whispering only one word. Her name. With her dying breath she reached for her child weakly, begging for that one moment between mother and daughter. The dark skinned boy at her side shuddered in disgust as the father passed his child to her mother, before turning and fleeing the house without a single look at the tiny creature being passed between the two. He was too blinded by pain and rage to care anymore about revenge, about retaliating against everything inhuman that was responsible for her impending death. He only wanted to disappear into his world to mourn and seconds after he fled a soulful howl could be heard echoing through the woods, traveling farther and farther from house that was momentarily free of agonizing screams. Back in the room the child was being passed on to the blond woman who had regained her senses and fled with the child to the safety of the lower level of the home. The woman on the bed had a tiny double crescent over her left breast, fresh blood spilling slowly from the wound. A tiny girl with dark hair had taken the place of the boy who had fled the morbid scene and as the heart beat it's last willing beat she leapt into action, leaning down and pressing her tiny palms on the bloody chest in a steady rhythm, mimicking the natural beating of the human heart. Simultaneously another syringe was plunged deep into her heart and after a fraction of a second her body jolted, as if she had been electrocuted. Her husband began to frantically bite every vulnerable vein lined part of her body, forcing his lethal venom into her, restraining against all desire to take what was left her away and give her the second chance she so desperately deserved. As the tiny girl with raven hair pushed up and down on the already crushed sternum of the already dead mother, the husband took over the role of breathing for her, expelling air into her lungs every few seconds, praying for her to take over the action for herself. And then, to the relief of every immortal ear in the large mansion, a frantic beating soared through the home and the cry of a triumphant husband followed as he clutched her to his chest, sobbing with tears of joy that would not fall. I sat on the beach, my toes dug deep into the crystal white sands surrounding me as I thought about my mother. I had only one memory of her, and it wasn't the memory any child wished to have, but I cherished it none the less. For those few blissful seconds that she held me in her arms, she looked down upon me with unconditional love, immediately forgiving me for all of the hurt and pain I had caused her.
I had her eyes. Every time I looked at my reflection I saw her staring back at me. Her eyes had been large and doe like, the color of rich chocolate and fringed in dark lashes. Though I had only seen her eyes once, and they had been clouded with the blackness of her blood, I still got lost in the memory of their beauty. And for two days my father split his time between my mother and me, spending all of my waking time with me, cuddling me to his chest as he fed me. When I slept, he stretched out next to my mother's healing body. As soon as my infant cries reached him, he would return to my side. Always smiling. He sang me her lullaby, whispered to me how much I reminded him of her and how happy we both made him. He told me the story of how they had met and fallen in love, spending nights together secretly in her room, loving every second he spent with her. He told me the story of the time he left her, thinking to protect her only to do the exact opposite, and how thankful he was that she forgave him and welcomed him with open arms into her life. He spoke of their wedding and how beautiful she was and how he would one day get to give me away at my own, though he hoped I would be forty before it happened.
I smiled at the memory, digging my fingers into the sand around me and letting it sprinkle through my fingers. The wind picked it up and carried away from me, leaving it shimmering in twilight of the horizon. The sun had just set, casting the ocean before me in a soft orange light, illuminating my world and giving me just one more thing to regret. I was leaving my treasured spot, the one spot I could dwell on the past and not worry about affecting others. My father had laughed a lot. I missed his laugh so much. During those two days every waking moment was spent staring into his adoring butterscotch eyes, feeling the love only a father could bestow. His laugh had filled the house that entire time, and he thanked me for bringing that joy into his life, he repeated over and over, almost hourly, how thankful he was to get to spend eternity with my mother and me. His two angels. For eternity. I swallowed back a dark sob and my hands began to shake in the sand, so I dug them deeper, burying them almost up to my elbows as I collapsed my head forward into my knees, breathing unsteadily. I took a deep shuddering breath before I ripped my arms out of the sand and wrapped them tightly around my chest and stared out towards the horizon. So many meanings for one word, yet every night I found myself out on the beach, no matter the weather, watching the horizon. My aunt always said that my horizons were limitless, much like the ocean that stretched out before me. I had experienced so much in my short seventeen years and unlike normal seventeen year olds, I could remember every single moment with crystal clarity, before I was even born. I remembered craving blood while I was in my dark sanctuary, safe and secure within my mothers womb. I remembered suffocating, smothering as something collapsed on me right before I was taken from her. I had panicked and kicked, screaming silent screams in my mind as I struggled to breath, struggled to escape the impending blackness of death. The first moment of blinding light and then I was staring into the most beautiful face I would ever remember. It was coated in blood and sweat and tears but despite all of the agony I had inflicted upon her weak body, the love that flowed between us was unconditional, never to be undermined. It was that solitary statement, always uttered from my aunt in a manner of adoration that brought out the worst in me. "Your horizons are unlimited, Renesmee." Of course I never let her see this as she would have never forgiven herself for dredging up my memories, and I loved my aunt and my uncle. They had saved me, kept me safe from harm, and loved me as if I were their own child.
One memory alone would always stand above the rest. I had been a part of a magical world for two very short days when the beating stopped. I didn't understand the sudden silence that reached my ears or the agonizing screams that had echoed through the house for two days afterwards. My father had stopped visiting me while I was awake and the screams never stopped, haunting me in my sleep. Two days later, when I saw him for the first time since the screaming had started, I understood, as my aunt bounced me gently on her knee, when they carried her out of the house. My aunt had tried to shield me by burying my face into her shoulder, she was sobbing almost as hard as whoever had been upstairs, yet she didn't let the screams out. She muffled them into my throat as she clutched me to her. I peeked through her golden hair as my mother's limp, lifeless body was carried out by my father. He was clutching her to him protectively, venom running from his eyes in torrents as he slowly made his way to the front door, flanked on either side by my heartbroken grandparents. His lips never left her cold forehead as he cried softly with agony that I honestly believed was worse than the screams he had released upstairs and I pulled away from my aunt, struggling with her as I reached out to touch my mothers once shiny brown hair as it flowed past me, cascading in a curling river over my father's. I barely had been able to brush it with the tips of my tiny fingers as my aunt yanked me back to her chest and fled the room with me, determined to shield me from my own pain. I would never see her again and for days I was inconsolable. For once I appeared every bit the tiny infant I was as I screamed and cried, pausing only to sleep for a few hours before resuming my fits of terror. I wanted my mother. I wanted her to hold me and tell me that she loved me. I wanted my father to come back, to love me like he had, I wanted his soothing stories to whisper me to sleep and above all else, I wanted him to sing her lullaby to me. I wanted him to share that piece of her with me. Days and nights passed and my aunt never left my side, her sobs slowly fading as she refocused all of her energy into me. Whispers around the house teased my ears as I cried for my mother. Every time I saw someone I sent them the two memories, the one of my mother holding me seconds after my birth, and then the one of my mother's lifeless body being carried away by my heart broken father. I wanted them both back. I needed them in my life. But instead all I received was one night with my father, a few weeks after he had disappeared with her body. He came in the middle of the night, pulling me from my cradle and holding me lovingly to his chest. For the first time since he had left, I was quiet. I reached to him and touched his cheek, sending him my warmth and love and my sadness over what I had done. He had merely smiled at me softly. His eyes were no longer the color of melted gold; instead they were black and grieving. And I knew then that no matter how much time passed, they would never change. He would never be whole again. "It is not your fault, love." He kissed my forehead and choked back a sob as he pulled away. "You are the one thing that is left of my Bella. You're the best part of her. You will be the surviving beauty of our love." His words had confused me and I could hear the untouched sorrow that was still buried, unreleased, inside of him. So I tried to heal what I could and touched his cheek yet again, sharing my memories of his laughter, his stories of love and hope, and then the one memory of my mother's love for me. His eyes widen and he clutched me to him in shear agony for what seemed like hours. I relished the moments with him, realizing they were coming to an end. He was going to leave. I whimpered and he pulled back, smiling into my face.
"I love you, Renesmee. Please don't ever doubt that." His eyes lightened as he stared into mine and he had brushed his lips across my forehead with as much tenderness as he had kissed the forehead of my mother as he carried her out so they could lay her to rest. He choked on a sob for a minute, blindly rubbing at his eyes with his free hand, wiping away the venom that spilled like tears. I know now that vampires couldn't cry. Yet my father did. His vampire body was no match for the torn heart within his broken soul. The human need to mourn had won the battle and his tears were unstoppable, though they were made of venom and not salty water. I knew that he was crying for two reasons. He had lost my mother. And he was leaving me forever, unwilling to burden me with his unbridled pain. He was going to join her, in Heaven. She had restored his faith in his soul and he couldn't be away from her any longer. He whispered it all to me in his loving embrace, telling me that he would forever watch me and be with me. He sang my mothers lullaby to me and I cried with him, softly, my tiny face buried in his cold chest. Gradually his lullaby had changed and I knew he was singing a new one for me. "It's your lullaby, love. Renesmee's lullaby" And I cried harder into his chest, my heart breaking as I realized he was giving me a last piece of himself before he left me. My tiny fist clinched on his shirt and he held me, his lips to my forehead, humming the soft notes of my lullaby, so much like my mother's lullaby, yet different, hopeful for my future. "Renesmee," he pulled me away from him and cradled me in his arms so that he could look down at my face. His lips curled in a small, sad smile and his bronze hair fell across his forehead. I delighted in it, reaching up and touching it softly. "I love you, Renesmee. I'll always be with you, in spirit." He touched his long fingers to my tiny chest, right above my quickly beating heart. Then he kissed my cheek. "I'll be in here." He held up a glimmering locket and dangled it above me so I could see it. "This is yours. It's from me, and your mother. So you can wear us near your heart." His voice broke one last time and I saw my beautiful aunt approach me with black bruises under her eyes. Her hair hung limply and she had no spring in her step. For once she was dressed in nothing more than sweat pants and a tee shirt and her sorrow echoed my fathers. He leaned down and bestowed one more kiss on my forehead and breathed in the scent of me before he passed me to my aunt. And then with one last look, he made the most heart breaking noise I would ever hear in my life, and disappeared into the night, his scent lingering for a short while in my room as my family clung to me and cried their tearless sobs. I cried with them, but for once I was comforted by the simple fact that I knew my father was going to find happiness, though I didn't know how.
I remember the way my father smells to this day, and I will remember it until the day I die, whether it happen a day from now or ten thousand years in the future. I would never forget the way he smelled. I never saw him again and soon after my aunt and uncle fled with me to my grandparents' private vacation home far away, fearing that others would discover my existence and that they would lose me as well. I was raised amongst sandy beaches and the crashing warmth of the tropical ocean and I fell in love with the beauty of the world. I always had questions, but they were never answered directly until I was a few years old. I was almost four in human years, though I more so resembled a twelve or thirteen year old physically. Mentally I was beyond many humans who were ten times my age, yet still they tried to protect me. Until finally, one day, my aunt explained to what my father had done after he left that night, and I began my twilight ritual of watching the horizon. It was my way of coping with the truth. My way of dealing with the facts. I had always known he was gone forever, but having it confirmed made the pain new again. A deep ragged hole in my heart.