Chapter1
(Renesmee)
I woke in a complete daze, huddled into my self, attempting to fight the chill of the morning draft, blowing through the wide open window.
Restlessly, I twisted myself away from the breeze into the comfort of my toasted sheets, desperately searching for more sleep to arrive. Just as I was sliding back into unconsciousness, I heard the creak of my bedroom door. Crap. Monday. School. Perfect. No, I wouldn't open my eyes, please, don't make me open my eyes.
"Sweetheart," I heard my mother purr, her voice symphonious, attempting to gracefully wake me, as she did every morning, for the dreaded school day ahead of me.
Not today. I was far to exhausted to get out of this bed.
"Ness, time to get up honey," I felt an ice cold hand gently massage my shoulder with pulsation.
"Ugghhhh. Give me another hour, or five." I groaned, not budging from the cocoon I had made of my sheets.
"Nessie, come on now, get up." She said now with a little more affectionate authority, squeezing my shoulder with a more urgent rhythm.
"I honestly don't think I can. Not today, just let me sleep." I yawned.
The weight shifted off my bed, and half a second later, I heard the dreaded screech of my curtains sliding apart, letting in a pool of unwanted sunlight.
The beam was magnified by the gleaming luminosity of the diamonds reflecting off of my mother, now sitting back in the same spot as before on my bed.
"Come on, it's a beautiful day for once, you know how rare this is in Forks. You don't want to miss it do you?"
Damn. I would be the only person in my family of vampires that was able to walk into the sun without turning into a 1,000 karat diamond; I would be the only person in my family of vampires that didn't have to hide from the world when the sun was out. School, rain or shine.
"I wish I could care a little less," I murmured, bringing the sheets above my eyes and sliding into the middle of my bed.
"Would you kindly close my curtains now, Mom? I'm so tired. Besides, I think I'm coming down with something; I couldn't go to school today if I wanted to. I'm oddly congested, probably just a cold. I should really sleep this off, Night." I managed a few feeble coughs then smiled to myself as I nuzzled myself into a more comfortable position, if that was doable.
"Good God Renesmee, every morning? This is getting ridiculous." I could almost hear her roll her eyes as she tugged my sheets from over top of me. I heaved with all my strength, waking me as a desperately tried to enclose the warmth inside my bed. I heard the sheet rip in half. I groaned with resistance and held my own, my legs curling up into my chest as tight as they would go, covered by my arms, and the small scrap of merino wool and Egyptian cotton that remand.
"That is your thirteenth set of sheets this month!" She pitched what was left of the cloth back on my bed with great force, ruining my makeshift cocoon.
"This is hardly a good example of a healthy morning ritual. Now get up." She said, sounding irritated now, the tenderness in her earlier tone shielded by her frustration of now having to replace my bed sheets, again.
When I giggled, now awake, but not moving out of spite, she lifted me effortlessly and set me to my feet, scowling.
I smirked at her ruefully; as I straightened out the t-shirt and boxers I was wearing.
"Mornin' Mommy," I snickered, amused by her perpetual grimace. "You are looking absolutely radiant today, you're practically glowing! What have you done with your hair? It is settling just perfectly."
Even though I was trying to replace the scowl on her face with a smirk as childish as mine, I wasn't being as sarcastic as she thought.
My mother was always breathtakingly beautiful. I was constantly envious of the way her golden eyes matched the lustrous flow of her dark chocolate hair. Today she was dressed in a pair of blue jeans, like always, and a dark, buttoned, laced navy blue blouse. She wore blue more than any other color, mostly to please my Dad. It was his favorite color on her.
After at least a minute of nothing but the sound of my heartbeat, her grimace remained.
"God. Okay, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"Yeah, I've heard that before." She chuckled. Despite her vexation, the corners of her mouth turned into a wide grin. For whatever reason, her grin turned into an emotional crease in her eyebrows. She leaned down and kissed me on the forehead, pulling me into a firm embrace. If she could have cried, she most defiantly would have.
"Uhmm…Mom? What's going on?" I gasped, the strength of her hug almost cutting off my air supply. She noticed my struggle and set me free.
As I gasped for air, she watched, sniggering apologetically. Placing her hands on my either sides of my face, she kissed my forehead again, and then gazed back into my eyes, scorching with pride.
I didn't understand what brought this on? Had I won the Nobel Prize in my sleep? I wasn't quite certain I was worthy of the Nobel Prize? I hadn't done anything noble recently, or ever, now that I think about it.
I refocused my attention; confused; on the radiating fires of gold she called her eyes. Why couldn't I have inherited those?
My eyes were plain, brown, just brown.
Oh, what I would do for metallic eyes like the rest of my family had.
I remembered, for the both of us, the last time she looked at me this way…Oh, right. How could I possibly have forgotten? Ugh, it was my birthday.
I recalled memories of her and daddy, waking me ever so crudely, lifting me by my legs and hands from my bed, swinging me horizontally like a pendulum, laughing and singing happy birthday like an orchestra of chimes until I begged to be released. I remembered the year before that, being woken peacefully by my father, who had taken the liberty of preparing me my favorite breakfast of French toast and bacon, for me to enjoy in the comfort of my own bed. Why couldn't they do that every year? That's what I call a birthday wake-up. Before I could finish remembering the year Aunt Alice woke me with a squeal of enthusiastic delight, as I opened my eyes to my entire family beaming at me with those metallic eyes of theirs while I woke in complete awe, to see my room saturated with streamers and balloons, my mother was pulling me back into her frozen arms, giving me goose bumps, softy crying a tearless sob. Here it comes.
"Oh! Nessie, I remember it like it was yesterday. I was only 7 years ago that you were just my little nudger." She pulled be packed at arms length, examining my 16 year old body.
Due to the fact that I was oddly enough, one of the very, very few half-human, half-vampires in the whole world, I grew a lot faster than other humans, or vampires, witch could be extremely painful at times.
I remembered, for the both, of us the nights I would spend curled up in a ball, dripping with sweat, screaming in agony, as my body would grow a few years worth, in only a few days. We both quietly winced from the memory. Now, it being my 7th birthday, it was only a matter of time for my last growth. I would have the body of a 20 year old, and the mind of a 30 year old.
My mother was sobbing again, unstoppable, delicate, tearless sobs. She crushed me to her. I hugged her back with adortion. She always got emotional on my birthdays. It wasn't her fault; I understood she couldn't help herself. I loved her with the same amount of compassion. So I hugged her back, letting her have her moment, waiting with patience for Dad to come in a break her away from me.
I was absolutely certain that he was the only person in the world that could.
She hugged me continuously. Blubbering old memories she had of me as a kid.
I laughed with her as she continued to reminisce; only making her hug me tighter with every chortle I dared let escape. She played with my hair as she reminded me of the first time she held me, I absent mindedly pictured the moment in my head, for the both of us, only to bring on a new round of sobs. I loved her, but I hated these types of public displays of affection.
I was getting frustrated with my mind reading father. I would bet my life on the fact he was listening to my every thought right now, antagonizing me by not stepping in, and calming down this emotional roller coaster. I could picture him laughing silently at my discomfort. I thought noiselessly in my head to my dad,
"You're not amusing, now get in here and help me out before I suffocate."
I waited another 5 minutes, no rescue. Oh, I'm sure he was loving this. I stood there in her arms, rubbing her back, trying to calm her down.
"Mom, seriously, this is not necessary, I'm not going anywhere. Scouts honor." I accidentally remembered, again, for the both of us, the time that we learned I was actually an immortal like my parents, that I would stop aging at 7, permanently paused in my form, and would continue living, just like the rest of my family.
I wonder if once I was technically "immortal" if I would acquire the metallic eyes. Doubt it, I wasn't that lucky.
With this memory, she lost it. Talking about how happy she was in that moment, how it was too much for her, the thought to her of all of us, everybody, together forever, technically.
"DAD! PLEASE!" I shouted in my head at the top of my lungs, sparing her feelings by not letting her sense my anxiety. I felt horribly guilty, wanting to be free of my mothers' tearless embrace, with this type of love coursing through her for her only daughter. She just wanted to express it to me; I wish I could have found some way to comfort her without making her more emotional. But I couldn't, so I just listened to her carry on with the memories.
She loved me more than her own life. I knew that, I saw it everyday with the locket she gave me for my first Christmas. I remembered her giving me the golden, heart shaped ornament, which still hangs around my neck everyday.
Inside, was a picture of me, her and daddy, and a French inscription reading 'more than my own life'. I treasured it since the moment I saw it. That locket would never escape my neck for a second. The memory, of course, had mom even more emotional than before, if that was possible.
"I will give you 10 seconds,10 seconds before I break free of her kung- foo grip and go recycle your Volvo into a soda can." I hissed in my head, "10." Nothing, "9." Nada, "8." No dice.
I heard his buoyant laugh come closer as he walked, as slowly as he possible could, to peek his head into my room to see my hysterical mother, holding me like we were going down in the Titanic.
I glared at him over her shoulder, hoping to sear him with my eyes, flaming with hostility. His returning smile was radiant. He busted into unrestrained laughter, listening to mom swoon over my first words.
"This will be avenged. If it's the last thing I do." He found my threats hysterical; it infuriated me even more that even though it was me he was making fun of; his obnoxious snicker could have passed for a sonata.
Here came my sweet relief.
He glided, struggling to compose his face, to where my mother sulked, groping me with her mournful bliss.
As he embraced the back of her waist she finally let go of mine, giving me free reign to take the deep breaths I defiantly needed. He held her there for a moment, shushing her gently, calming her with each word he spoke. She turned around, throwing her arms around his neck.
"Edward." She cried into his shoulder, as he took her into his arms, kissing her tenderly on her temple, pulling her closer by the small of her back.
"Oh my Bella, you define melodramatic," he whispered into her ear, with still a hint of mockery left in his voice.
She whined reluctantly into his shoulder, not looking up. "Come on love, cut it out, she will have hundreds more birthdays, and I," He stopped when he heard the grunt in my thoughts, and looked up at me through his lashes, still smirking.
"Hah! I? Try me." I thought, annoyed.
He just continued, "Cannot deal with your psychotic breaks every time one of them comes around." He accidentally let the slightest chuckle escape his mouth, now shaped into a pin straight line, trying to compose his amusement of his wife at her redundant outburst.
Without taking her head from his shoulder, she slammed her foot onto his with magnificent force.
"DAMMIT' BELLA! OW!" he screamed, looking at her for some sort of explanation.
Without taking her head from his shoulder, she giggled. I joined her, accenting her sopranic bells. And moments later, he finally added the lower bear-tone octave to our acappella.