Authors notes. Thanks to my lovely BETA Flyaway Dove for her invaluable work in making this story readable!


Disclaimer: I do NOT own Twilight. No profit is made from this story.

Chapter one: the epitome of immaturity

Hi Diary!

It's not like I am a weirdo or anything, just… a vampire hybrid. Ok, ok, you're scoffing right now. Vampire hybrid – yeah frigging right you say. Well it's true. And you better deal with it.

You were probably scoffing at the idea of a vampire. Well here's a news flash for you: we're real, we exist, and we live all around you. That freaks you out? I thought so…

Well Diary, get used to it because you're going to be hearing all about my life from now on – my plain old boring (snort) life in Forks Washington, and plain old me, Renesmee Carlie Cullen, the vampire hybrid/Imprintee. Yes that's right: I have a werewolf boyfriend that is a tad obsessed with me. But it's a good thing

'What you writing, Ness?' Uncle Emmett snatched the leather bound book from my hands and read the paragraph in a couple of milliseconds.

'Give it back Uncle Em,' I demanded.

'Jeez kid, you're starting to sound like Edward with this. Plain old me, ha, you are not plain by far. You're freaky,' said Emmett. 'And don't let your Dad catch you writing stuff about Snoopy in here either, especially 'a tad obsessed with me. But that's a good thing!' He'll be a tad obsessed with having a heart to heart chat with his daughter about… things.'

I visibly cringed, remembering last year's sit down that Dad had planned and I had mysteriously not turned up to. He never mentioned it again but I'm sure one trigger such as obsessive boyfriends could make him say something. Jacob and I had never had sex, but it was only a matter of time. I would be fully-grown in a few months and Jacobs words were, 'We'll wait until you're full grown. It'll be a safeguard.'

I had to admit, it was smart. We knew of the existence of other female hybrids but we didn't know about anything to do with my, erm… reproduction capability. I am hoping I can have kids after being fully grown but it's highly unlikely. Mom is torn. She wants me to be able to have children but that also means me having a baby when I'm physically, like, sixteen years old.

I can't even begin to know where to start when it comes to Dad's opinions on this. Put it this way – Dad is extremely opinionated when it comes to me. If there were an award for overprotective Dad of the Year, he'd win it. I mean, he nearly tore Jake limb from limb when he busted us kissing in the forest.

'So, shall I show this to Dad or shall you do me a favor?' Uncle Emmett infuriated me – and Mom – quite often. It was a Swan trait to be easily infuriated by Emmett. And it was an Emmett/Alice/Rosalie and sometimes Edward trait to be easily infuriated by Mom.

'What favor?'

'Trash Jasper and Alice's room, they just got it refurbished.'

'Is there a particular motive behind this attack?' I questioned, already appalled. I loved Aunt Alice's and Uncle Jasper's new room.

'Jasper won't give me a re-match. He says I'm being a sore loser!'

'Why can't you do your own dirty work?'

Uncle Em waved the diary in front of me.

'Cause Daddy will be reading something rather interesting if you don't, that's why.'

I scowled and pointed one finger at Uncle Emmett as I stood up. 'I hate you.'

'I love you too!' he replied.

'As much as I love you Uncle Emmett, for someone as old as you, you are the epitome of immaturity.'

'Whats with the B-I-G words Nessie, you're sounding like dear Dad.'

'Shut up,' I said before I left the room.

It was a tedious but necessary thing (according to Dad), that I get measured everyday. It had happened every single day since the day I'd been born. I had grown from a newborn to a two month old in three days.

I remember Mom telling me how they thought I wasn't going to slow in my growth and that I would be an old woman by fifteen. Jeez just the thought now depresses me.

But all was well; my growth had slowed and I had not grown at all in the last month. Today was the day that Grandpa would finally decide if I'd stopped growing or not.

So here I was, anxiously awaiting his verdict whilst chewing my fingernails, a habit that Mum and Dad have been trying to discourage in me from a young age (waste of effort, I tell you).

Grandpa walked in with a grave look on his face.

'Well?' I asked, barely speaking above a whisper.

'Renesmee dear, I've come to a conclusion.'