Author's Note: I've never written a fan fiction before. In fact, I don't think I've written anything creative since the last time it was a homework assignment. However, that hasn't kept me from reading a lot of books, including the Twilight series. I always wondered what a 5th book would be like and decided that I would try to write one based on a random thought I had. I'm not sure why, though. In fact, my wife doesn't know I'm doing it. (Wait, I'm a dude?) However, I've always felt that a good story bypasses gender, age and the thousand other things that we think separate us from each other and it speaks directly to the heart. With any luck this story will be like that and touch at least one person, but it's more likely that it'll just wind up being a waste of time. That's OK though, because I was bored one day...

I haven't read many fan fictions, so hopefully my story doesn't repeat anything that's already been done. If it seems similar to something someone else wrote that I haven't read, it'll mean that great minds think alike. I'm not plagiarizing and I certainly hope that everyone else will show my work the same respect.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Twilight series, its setting, its plot, its characters, etc. Stephenie Meyer owns that stuff and I'm just using bits of it.

Chapter One - Mistake

Why do I keep staring at his lips?

Sure, they were nicely shaped, but they were just lips. He was talking to Aunt Rosalie about something, but I wasn't really paying attention. There was something hypnotic about the curve of his upper lip and the way it moved as he spoke.

I heard the sound of ringing bells across the room and glanced over at my mother, glad for a distraction. Her laugh was music to my ears and I smiled as I watched her chatting with Uncle Emmett. They were reminiscing about the time when my mother first became a vampire.

A twinge of guilt shot through me and I could feel Jasper's eyes on me as I pushed the old feeling down and concentrating on what they were saying.

"Sure, you beat me the first few times, but after that, I let you keep winning… for Nessie's sake." He didn't sound very convincing. My perfect memory recall let me replay the whole thing in my head. Every day for months they went outside and arm wrestled.

Each day they would go by the river and find a suitable rock and lock hands. Uncle Emmett would push with all his might and Mom would grin and slam his hand into the rock. I could hear my laughter echoing off the trees every time it happened, blending with the laughs and cheers of my family as they watched every day with me.

I went forward day by day scanning each scene in my mind for any hint that Uncle Emmett was letting my mother win. I finally found what I was looking for and spoke.

"Rematch 53." I stated.

I replayed it in my head once again and it was plainly obvious when you were looking for it. After my mother won and I laughed, Uncle Emmett's lips curled up a fraction at the corners as he demanded another rematch the following day. You could even see a slight twinkle in his eye as he glanced my way.

I watched for it knowing it would come soon. A split second later, my mother's fist shot out catching Uncle Emmett in the shoulder. He had been balanced on the corner of the couch and he toppled backwards landing on his back. He should have been able to dodge it, but he was too busy laughing to even bother.

"53 days is hardly a few times!" My mother growled as she stood over him glaring. He was still laughing as he said "I started letting you win after 42 days. I couldn't hide it after 53." My mother looked furious as she scowled down at him and he put his hands up ready to fend her off. The site of Emmett defending himself from my mother was a regular one and I laughed.

I could hear as the sound reverberated off of everything in the room. There were reflections off the glass of the windows and smaller reflections off the edges of the tables and even the walls of the house. If my mother's laugh was ringing bells, mine was a chorus of them. They all loved my laugh, but it made me so self conscious. I choked it off, chagrined.

That was when I heard a gruff chuckle from Uncle Jacob. I knew that he liked my laugh more than anyone and I glanced over at him. His eyes were twinkling as he looked my way smiling. I looked at his smile, his white teeth gleaming between his lips. They were such beautiful lips. They looked so strong, yet I knew they were soft. He had kissed my forehead so many times.

I thought back to the way they felt, warm against my skin. My heightened senses let me feel every microscopic place of contact they made when he kissed me. I could feel their texture as they brushed…

Seriously! Why was I thinking about his lips?

He was my Uncle Jacob. He was so… old. Not that he looked it. He didn't seem to like clothes much and rarely wore shirts, so I knew that his well-muscled body didn't look its age.

Just then I heard a loud bang as a chair fell. I looked over towards the kitchen to see my father standing over a toppled chair in the dinning room looking very, very angry. He had been brooding for several weeks, something he did from time to time. However, this time was worse than I'd ever seen and tension had been building around him. I was surprised that Uncle Emmett's prank on my mom had caused Dad to explode like that and I glanced at Uncle Emmett, fearing for his safety.

For a split second Uncle Emmett looked genuinely afraid, something I hadn't seen before, but it passed quickly as he looked towards… Uncle Jacob? I looked back at my father and he was glaring at Uncle Jacob, who looked shocked. Dad turned his eyes on me and I was shocked to see anger in his eyes directed at me. He had never shown me anything but love and care.

I didn't know what to think. I was flabbergasted… and afraid. Actually, I was terrified. His normally golden eyes were nearly black. He looked ready to rip my throat out.

My heart started to pound in my chest as my instincts told me I was in danger and I needed to flee. I bolted out the door as fast as my legs would carry me, ignoring the calls of my family. I needed to escape and I couldn't stop. I headed for the safest place I could think of. I ran faster than I had ever run before, my heart hammering in my throat. Why did my dad want to kill me? I kept replaying his angry, terrifying face over and over in my head.

I reached home in record time and closed my bedroom door, locking it behind me without looking. As I stood there gasping for air, it occurred to me that even I could knock down my door with a gentle push. I dropped to my knees, tears streaming down my cheeks. I knew that my dad was fast. He was faster than anyone. I could never outrun him. My beating heart and need to breathe made me the slowest member of the family, so I could never escape.

I tried to figure out what was going on. Why did my dad want to kill me? What had triggered it? I played the scene through my mind analyzing it. Dad seemed angry at both Uncle Jacob and me. He had ignored Uncle Emmett completely. What was the connection?

My heart skipped a beat when I figured it out. My own mind had betrayed me. I had been thinking about those damn lips. Of course my father knew what I was thinking. He knew what everyone was thinking. It wasn't normal to think about your uncle's lips. I knew I was a freak physically, but it never occurred to me that I might have a twisted mind, too.

My body and mind are fully matured, but I'm only 8 years old, and I'm thinking about the feel of my uncle's lips on my skin… in front of my father? I had started to think about his body, too. I was humiliated. I hated myself. Why couldn't I just be a normal vampire? My skin was too hot, I had a beating heart. I was defective. I was a mistake of nature.

Impossibly, my heart rate increased even more when I heard the snap of a twig in the woods. Someone was coming! I strained my senses and I could hear the soil crunching under his shoes. I could hear the brushing of his clothes as he walked. I knew by the weight of his feet and his stride that it was my father. He'd come to put me out of my misery.

I listened as he reached the front door and opened it. I resigned myself to my fate and waited for my approaching doom.

It wasn't coming. He had paused at the doorway and hadn't entered the house. The minutes ticked by and I began to worry. What was he doing? My heart was still beating frantically. It was so loud that it almost drowned out the sound of everything else. Was that it? Was he enjoying the sound of my beating heart before he killed me? I heard a sharp intake of breathe from him. Was he enjoying the scent of my fear as well?

He finally took another step and I panicked. I thought I was resigned, but I didn't want to die. Not really. I wedged myself into the corner of the room furthest from the door and stared at it. He was slowly approaching my door. I winced when I heard my name from the hall.

"Renesmee?"

My name was a croak on his lips, barely above a whisper. It didn't even sound like my father. It sounded like death had whispered the word. He had called me Renesmee instead of my usual nickname. Why was that?

My already quick half-vampire mind was working overtime as I listened to him lurch towards my door and try the handle. I thought back through my life, starting at my horrible birth that nearly killed my mother.

Dad had saved her by turning her into a vampire, but I knew that she would have died, otherwise. There were others like me, but all their mothers had died as they were torn open by our births. That alone was a sign that we weren't natural, that we shouldn't even exist.

After that, there were good memories as my mother got used to being a vampire and I met Grandpa Charlie. He was a human and I adored him. He smelled really good, but I never thought of him as food. After that I met a lot of people. They were friends of the family and they put their lives on the line to protect me and my family.

The one that ultimately protected me was Mother. She was amazing. She had shielded us all from the Volturi and they had given up and fled.

"Renesmee, open the door, please."

The words were hollow. They sent a chill down my spine. Where was my mother? Why wasn't she protecting me now? Why would she let him kill me? Did he tell her what I was thinking and she felt it was for the best? No, she would never think that. My mother had always loved me, even before I was born. She would be disappointed, but she would never let him kill me. So where was she?

We had so much happiness together after the Volturi had left. We played together, we hunted together, and we went on trips to visit our friends. It had been 8 years of endless smiles and laughter. They were great times, but there was so much more that I wanted to see and do. I had thought I would have a long life ahead of me, but apparently not.

"Renesmee, I'm coming in."

All thought stopped as I concentrated on the door. I could hear the wood strain and then break under the steady pressure as he pushed against the door. I watched as the door jam buckled, splinters of wood shooting outward in slow motion arcs before bouncing off the floor.

My nails dug into the floor and I pushed backwards against the walls of the corner, making them strain. The door swung inward and I waited for it to slowly complete its path and reveal my father's angry, terrifying face. My heart felt like it was beating so fast that it would burst in my chest.

The door swung out of the way and my father was frozen in the doorway. His cheek was discolored. Had someone punched him in the face? More importantly, instead of anger, I was shocked to see that his face was full of pain and regret.

I could almost feel it in the air, radiating off him. Was he sad because of what he had to do? His shoulders seemed to slump and he didn't seem like he was going to attack me. In fact, my instincts weren't broadcasting any of the alarms that I'd felt earlier.

How I wished I could hear his thoughts the way he could hear mine. I had no idea what he was thinking. Why did he stop his attack?

Unless he was never going to attack in the first place?

I watched as downcast eyes glanced up at me. Hopefully? I remembered the way he looked in the dining room. I could remember every detail of his angry terrifying face. But I also remembered everything else. He was standing upright, not hunched over, ready to pounce. He didn't growl or bare his fangs like I'd seen him do at the Volturi. So he was mad, but he wasn't going to kill me.

What set off my instincts like that them? Why did I think he would do it? Why did I think that the rest of my family would even let him? What had I done? My father was heartbroken because I had thought he was going to kill me. More than that, I had been completely sure of it in every fiber of my being. How had I jumped to such a stupid conclusion?

I felt a crushing weight of guilt and sadness for what I had done to him. He was still standing there, reading every thought in my head and I felt ashamed. I wanted to curl up and cry and never stop. My eyes blurred as the torrent of tears began.

I sensed rather than saw when he spread his arms open for me and in the blink of an eye, I was standing in his comforting cold embrace. I sobbed against him soaking his shirt with my salty tears. My shoulders shook with my sobs and I couldn't seem to speak, so I thought in my head over and over.

I'm sorry Dad. Please forgive me Dad.

"Shhhh, its okay, Nessie. It was my fault." he whispered.

He blamed himself for my stupidity and that made me feel even guiltier. I cried even louder. It seemed the tears would never end. Tears were such a stupid thing. Vampires couldn't cry and I shouldn't either.

Finally, the wracking sobs stopped and I wiped my face on my sleeves.

I looked up at my dad and he was looking down at me with nothing but love and admiration in his eyes and I knew that everything was going to be all right.

Author's Note: OK, that's it for the first chapter. I hope this isn't complete garbage and I'll wait for a few reviews before continuing the story. If I get even 1 positive review, I'll continue. Other chapters will be longer and I'm planning on at least 100,000 words. Hopefully, I'll be able to get a new chapter out at least once every 1 or 2 weeks. That'll depend on my current level of laziness and the distractions of my sporadic lifestyle and short attention span. Be aware that the story may get a little dark at times. That should be obvious from the title and the last sentence of this chapter. Also, I may revise things along the way, but that's what happens when it's a work in progress.