The murderer stared past Rosalie's shoulder at me, its gaze more focused than any newborn creature's gaze should be.
Warm brown eyes, the color of milk chocolate––the exact same color that Bella's had been.
My shaking jerked to a stop; heat flooded through me, stronger then before, but it was a new kind of heat––not a burning.
It was a glowing.
I recognized this feeling. I'd felt it before, in the minds of other werewolves. Which ones? There seemed to be a difference between some of them. Which ones had experienced this before?
Was it Embry? No. Embry was still in control of his own life, wasn't he? As in control as any of us could be. But that was enough for me.
Maybe it was Seth or Leah. But it couldn't be them, because I distinctly remembered feeling this way back in Sam's pack.
Sam. It was Sam and Emily. Quil and Claire. Jared and Kim. This was imprinting.
I now saw a different picture. Whereas before, the universe had appeared to be transforming in a whirl of color to revolve around Bella's daughter, I now saw Bella, too. She was sliding away from me, taking the pain with her. I could just let her go. It would be easier to just let Renesmee take over.
But, it seemed wrong to let Bella slide off my heart and into the ocean of grief that had been for me just two seconds ago. It didn't seem wrong to reach out and save her. Even Renesmee seemed eager for me to do it.
So I did. As I pulled her back, she brought with her the pain.
I leaned forward on the banister of the stairs, letting the new tears fall, sobbing in complete silence. But this was what I wanted. I preferred this to the alternative. I could feel the imprinting process stopping.
I would always like Renesmee, because her brown eyes had reminded me of Bella, and saved me from what was unbearable for me. I would always like her because she carried the one element that reminded me of my Bella. My dead Bella.
I'd thought before so many times that she'd gone out of reach. But she hadn't before now. She hadn't been gone at the prom almost two years ago when she'd been dancing with Edward. She hadn't been gone after I became a werewolf. She hadn't been gone when she'd jumped off the cliff. She hadn't been gone when she'd run off to Italy. She hadn't been gone both times she'd walked away from me with Edward. She hadn't been gone when she'd agreed to marry him and I'd found out about it.
Or when she'd told me she'd chosen him, or when she'd gotten married, or when she'd left for the honeymoon. But now she was gone.
And now I realized I would always be in jealous awe of Edward. Jealous because he'd had Bella. In awe because he'd had Bella.
But, I'd thought so many times he'd stolen Bella. He hadn't. She'd allowed Renesmee to steal her. And I didn't even blame Renesmee for that anymore. I didn't blame Bella.
I was now howling. Rosalie was staring at me with an unreadable expression in her eyes. I hurt everywhere, in every way, but I was still happy.
Because I'd chosen to love Bella. Because I'd lived up to my promise to her. Because I'd lived up to my promise to myself. I'd seen her, and only her.
From upstairs, there was a new sound. The only sound that could touch me as I stepped into what had shrunk to the river of grief. The rushing, raging, relentless river.
A frantic pounding, a racing beat…
A changing heart.