Disclaimer: Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. I just love to write with her characters. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary

What if there wasn't a real happily ever after? Who says that Renesmee's childhood was as filled with unbreakable happiness as one like to think? What prevents her from turning into the darkest character of the saga so far?

This is a tale about how the changes of her personality ruined the lives of so many more than she had counted with.

Life as you know it will change. Forever.

Prologue

100 miles East of Hartley Bay, British Columbia, Canada

March 24th 2064

An almost invisible moon was shining feebly over the grand, white, house, positioned almost in the middle of the dense forest. A wind was blowing stubbornly in the woods, rustling the leaves, while a callous rain hammered the wet ground with nails of raindrops.

The moon rays had to fight to reach the house through the thick and dark branches of the many surrounding trees. The woods were pitch black tonight, while the moon was tired. Thin and sick, without energy to at least dimly light up the Canadian ground. The velvet darkness caressed everything. Everything but one, lonely, window on the highest floor of the house – someone had lit a single bedside lamp in the large bedroom.

From outside, it seemed like an odd place to position a house. No human beings nearby, a huge forest a few feet from the door, unpaved roads, the many trees covering every possible view from the windows… And yet there it stood, the luxurious four-storey building that had been built and bought by an American family, unknown to most inhabitants.

Only one person was at home. She had lit the single lamp in her bedroom, even though she was comfortable with the dark. It had never scared her, like it scared most other people. She found solace in the dark, the fact that she could not see some of the things she despised most comforted her.

Her gaze rested for a short moment on what she had laid out in front of her, on the bed. It was all that was necessary in what was about to become her new lifestyle. She was going to start over, and let her past become nothing but a memory.

There they were, clothes, the razors, one book, some money and the ring. That ring. The one he had given to her. She had never worn it, insisting she wanted to keep it a secret for now. She had lied.

She still loved him, she always would. In a way, their destinies would always be linked together. He was the only one who had ever touched her heart. He was the only one she had not stubbornly pushed away.

Her plan was to bring the ring, to give him the tiniest bit of consolation. They would search through her room, desperately looking for evidence, and when no ring was found, he would know she'd taken it with her. He would know that she hadn't ceased loving him.

The fact that she was going to give so much up scared her, while at the same time the thought made her even more eager to follow through her plan. Finally on her own, independent. She would finally be able to choose for herself.

Things had started to fall a part a little less than twelve years ago. She had begun to change, just the littlest bit for every day, little enough for it not to be noticeable. She had been careful, and tried to bottle up as much as possible inside. By the time it was impossible to hold it in any longer, she knew how to discreetly let it out.

He was the only one who had noticed how she was no longer herself. Her family was still living in a daze of ignorance. He was the only one who had sensed it, because he knew her better than she knew herself. He was the reason to why she tried to hide it; she did not want to hurt him.

Even though he was all that mattered to her, she was still leaving. She refused to spend a moment more in the same pattern she lived her life in. She did not belong with the rest of them. She was different, and nothing could change that.

She would hurt him. She would hurt him more than anyone had ever hurt anyone before; it was not something she could deny. What was the fate for the kind like him, who lost the one thing that held them to this earth?

Although she would make him suffer so, so, badly, it didn't make her change her plans. In that sense she was selfish. He would get over her; he would find someone else, because he did not deserve someone like her. He deserved someone better. She was not good for him. His sunlight couldn't shine through her darkened soul, nothing could.

Where was her kind now? Did he still exist? It had been almost seventy years since that day where he had so heroically come to them. Maybe he had ceased to be, having been dragged into an endless despair similar to her own?

No, she couldn't think like that. He was her only way out, the only one who could understand. No empty words and pointless attempts to consolation would escape his mouth. He out of all people would understand her. She was so sure about that.

She didn't have any memories of her own of him. All she had heard were the marvelous stories of how hehad saved them all from being torn into shreds and burned. He, who had proved to the evil ones, those who had come to destroy, that her existence posed no threat. How her incredible aunt had been the one to save them all by fetching him.

He had sisters as well. Sisters, girls, just like her. She couldn't wait to meet them. She couldn't wait to spend the rest of eternity with them, and leave her grieving place among her family behind. They would like her, she would like them, and she would fit in. She would become a part of a new family. She had it all planned, she knew what was going to happen.

At least she knew where he had been seventy years ago. Hopefully, he was still there. She refused to believe anything else. If he weren't still in the place where she suspected he was, she would find him. She had to, and she would. What could stop her? Nothing. What obstacles could she possibly fail to overcome? None.

She looked down at the things she had put out again, taking out a small bag from the wardrobe and quickly stuffing them all into it. She hesitated when her fingers gripped the razors, the ones she had so carefully hidden from everyone. She knew she would need them later, but if she could only, for once, at least try to leave them behind. She knew deep down that they were bad for her. But she craved them so much it almost hurt to not know where they were. They were her consolation and solace.

Because of that, she chose to take them with her.

The razors were a strange part of her. She knew many others used them as to get away from the mental pain suffocating their heart, and the idea had in a strange way always been tempting. She had first tried to cut herself eight years ago, only to find out that the blades did little damage to her hard skin. But she had persevered; she was stubborn, just like her mother. And so, one lonely October night, when she once again found herself alone in the bathroom, this time with a scissor in her hand, she noticed, to her great surprise, how the edge was able to bore into her now fragile skin.

Maybe it had something to do with her kind. She didn't care enough to search for an answer. All she knew was after that time, she was stuck. It was her escape from the world around her. She started coming up with lies of how she enjoyed being left alone often, only so she could precious the few moments where she was suddenly elsewhere. Her family couldn't be there when she did it, she had to be alone.

The cleaning afterwards had to be done thoroughly. With God knew how much cleaning products, she scrubbed every little area of the bathroom clean. She could leave no traces, especially not with her family.

She started wearing long sleeves all the time, without any objections from the rest of her family. She convinced her fashionable aunt that it was a new style she had learned from girls outside of the house, humans. And to her great surprise, her aunt believed it. No one ever saw the scars that adorned her wrists. No one.

She learned to control her thoughts. The cutting was far, far, away in her mind. Even though her dad at most times kept out of her head, she could never be sure if he would hear something that might make him suspicious. She did grow a little sick of never being able to be herself around her family, but on the few occasions where she could be just that were the ones that kept her from going insane.

She developed great acting skills, so that one of her uncles wouldn't see through her façade. She could be breaking apart inside, while at the same time radiate emotions of contentment. And when it was too difficult to masquerade everything, she looked pleadingly at the uncle, and he would know she needed to keep it to herself.

Keeping secrets from her family was not easy, and would never be. Thanks to their abilities, it was clear that she with most difficulty could keep things away from them. She knew that not all lives were as complicated as her was, and that was one of the reasons to why she continued to struggle with her anonymity.

At least her aunt couldn't see her future. Obviously that mattered the most.

If her aunt could see her, then she would see being as unhappy, then she would see her cut herself, then she would see her leave.

Then everything would be spoiled.

But her aunt couldn't see her. She figured that was the light at the end of her dark tunnel. She figured it was some sort of sign, something that told her she had to leave.

As everything was packed into the small bag, the girl slowly tucked a lock of her curly hair behind the ear, and let her gaze swipe over her room for a short moment. She tried to memorize as much of it as possible, before she would leave it forever.

The blackness from the window didn't reflect much light onto the worn furniture, there was only her little lamp that threw a dim, yellow, light into the room.

The wallpaper was what she would miss most, she thought. It was a red climbing pattern placed onto a white surface. Before she would fall asleep every night, she would study the wallpaper. To see how the thin lines of read with dots created an endless forest, it made her happy; mesmerized her.

"Nahuel," she whispered to herself.

A long time ago, she remembered having spoken to one of the teachers in one of her many temporary schools. He had very vividly described to her, how bad it had been for him to stay with his friends during high school. Because they had made him feel bad about himself, they had lowered his confidence and self-esteem; they had torn him apart.

He had never changed friends, convincing himself no one else wanted to be with him. Many years later he regretted it more than anything. They had made those years extremely difficult for him.

And she could relate to that. She could understand how she would deeply regret not leaving her family if she stayed among them, continuing on with being different. It would tear her apart, ripping her into shreds. She had to leave; it was the only way out, the only way to feel better.

She was selfish, but that was the last thought she had in her head. She wanted to break free from the melancholy she lived in. Why couldn't she?

He wasn't to arrive home again until hours later. The other would return in days. It would give her time. She would be quick enough – she could run fast enough. Her plan was to travel to Vancouver first. The rain would wipe away most of her scent, if the plan she had in mind didn't work.

After she had discovered that she could control of her skin, she had posed the question if the same also was possible to other parts of herself. What if she was capable of controlling her scent as well? What if she could change her appearance, her size, the length of her hair?

She hadn't tried yet, but she was positive that she could at least control her scent, weaken it in a way.

Since it had taken time to make her skin vulnerable, she had at first wanted to control her scent about a month ago. With a little luck, it would disappear in a few hours.

She closed her eyes for a moment, pressing her eyelids tight together. Focusing only on that single thought. Please, please, please…

If her scent disappeared, then her family would be next to nothing in the search for her. It was their only way of finding out where she went. Her thoughts weren't saved, nor her mood, and her future was protected.

Things would work out, they would. Thanks to her. For a short moment, she was struck by the question if her ability to change herself was connected to her different kind, or to her other ability.

Yes, the vulnerability of her skin wasn't the only thing she could control. No, her other ability was much more noticeable, more prominent to others.

She smiled a little to herself as a few faint memories of how she had first used her ability on her family, as a little new born, displayed inside of her mind. She could transfer thoughts, pictures, words, whatever she wanted, from her to anyone else, simply by touching that person.

A few months after she had quit growing, she, together with him, had noticed how her ability was much greater than what she had previously thought. Once together on a beach, they had learned that she could transfer thoughts into objects as well, so the first one to touch them were to see whatever she had put in there. The first time she had done it was to a rock that she had later on given him, who had laughed and told her she truly was special, in a good way.

She planned to use this part of her ability now, in a letter. He would be the first one to enter to read it, and she wanted to tell him something. She wanted him to once again see the memory that she again and again displayed in front of her when she was feeling unhappy.

There were paper and envelopes in one of her desk drawers, and she unhappily sat down to dedicate a meaningful letter to the one she loved with all her heart. It took her some time to find out what she wanted to tell him, but soon she knew she had chosen the right words, and carefully wrote them down.

With a little hesitation, she then touched the letter in that familiar way she did when she wanted to tell someone something without opening her mouth. In there, she placed one of the best memories she had of him and her together.

It was twilight, with the familiar pink color caressing the sky, blending together with the blue and the purple. The two of them were in the garden outside, alone, because the rest of her family was away. A light breeze was softly swirling around them, uniting them. She moved closer, feeling his skin next to her. They were both warm, but his temperature was just the littlest bit higher.

His dark, deep, eyes were staring into hers, and in that moment she had realized just how much she loved him, how much she needed and wanted him. So she told him, uttering those three words that he so often told her.

She would never forget his reaction. His eyes changed, melted, his lips parted just the littlest bit, his head lifted a little, as if to assure himself he had heard right. She could her vaguely how his heart rate sped up, how his grip around her tightened.

He had told her he loved her, too.

She wanted him to see this again, before she left. She wanted him to realize she still loved him, even though she had changed so much since then.

She knew he would never be the same after she left, but she tried hard not to think about that. She didn't want to imagine the consequences of her goodbye, afraid that they would take over her mind.

She rose from the chair, grabbing her bag along with the letter. Then she threw one last look at her room, hoping to remember it for a long time, and walked out the door.

Everything in the house was open, apart from the doors to the bedrooms, because at home they didn't have to hide. At home, they were themselves. At home, they didn't have to disguise themselves.

As her eyes floated over the modern furniture, she sighed. She walked down slowly, letting her free hand touch the wooden railing.

Her soft steps headed to the kitchen. The photos of him and her, together with the rest of her family, on the refrigerator, yelled at her, blinking like a sky trembling with fireworks.

She held the letter tight in her hand, the handwriting unmistakably hers. As she sealed the letter away and put it on the kitchen table, she broke a heart. A heart that would never really heal again.

Then, taking one last deep breath, she let her memorize her surroundings. Home, was her last thought before she turned around, towards the door, and faced what was going to be her new life.

She wouldn't come back.

The rain was falling softly down onto the russet fur of Jacob Black, who was running cheerfully home in his wolf form. It was just past midnight, and the moon's obvious brilliancy was weakened this night. The forest was dense around him as his paws time after time quickly let the ground fly by under him. He was moving fast, almost feeling the hard, cold, wind water his dark eyes. His breath created ghosts in the air has he ran, the wind was chillier than usual tonight.

Jacob had spent a few hours with his werewolf pack in Hartley Bay for the first time in months. He had missed them a lot, they were a part of him, and he found it difficult to live so isolated from his old life that he refused to give up. They were still staying in La Push, a little place in Washington, his old home, while he had chosen to live only a few years at the same place together with his girlfriend, imprint, the half-vampire Renesmee, and her vampire family.

He missed his wolf-brothers, some times were harder than others, but he didn't regret for a minute choosing to live with Renesmee. She made him happy, very happy. A life without her was not a life he could picture himself in.

After having spent only a few hours away from her, a missing ache in his chest was as strong as if he hadn't seen her for days. She didn't like coming along with him to meet his pack, she preferred to be home, alone. He had never questioned her decision.

As he reached home, he phased back into his human form again. He had left a pair of cut off shorts next to a tree in the garden, and quickly dressed before opening the door with a spare key that always lay under the doormat. It confused him a little – they rarely locked the door. Especially not when there was someone inside the house. Maybe she wanted to feel safe…

"Nessie!" he yelled happily, shutting the door behind him. "I'm back!"

There was something wrong, he could sense it in the air. Stubbornly he shook the feeling off of his mind. But yet it wouldn't disappear.

"Ness, hon', I'm home!" he yelled again, perhaps a little nervous as he reached the kitchen. Still not a sound. The second his eyes caught the sight of the white letter on the kitchen table, he knew. When his fingertips lightly touched it, and the memory displayed in front of him – that sweet, sweet, memory that would never leave him – he was sure.

Dear Jacob,

I am so sorry. And even though I know that there is no proper excuse to what I've done, I had no choice.

You will continue without me, I know you will. Don't try to tell yourself anything else, because I know you better than you know yourself. Let me go, because I would do the same for you if I knew you needed it.

I need this, and I think you've always known it, deep down.

I love you, I will always, but it doesn't mean I will come back.

I am so sorry.

Love,

Renesmee