Renesmee
A/n: Please review! I'm writing a novel, so anything to help better my style is very much appreciated!:)
I'm special. That's what Edward and Bella say- or Mom and Dad. I never call them that. It doesn't seem right. I mean, I'm six years old now- nearly an adult. And they always looked too young to be parents: pale skin, gorgeous amber eyes- forever young, forever beautiful. Vampires.
Me, I'm partially vampire, partially human. Don't ask how that works. I asked Mom one day, and she tried to explain it- it's gross. Too gross.
I'm on my bed now, reading, playing with my long curly copper hair that tumbles annoyingly across my shoulders. I can't feel the wind on my neck when I run, can't feel its caress. Nobody knows that I want to cut it off.
A husky, dog smell wafts into the room from the hallway. I look up to see my best friend Jake standing in the doorway, smiling widely. His shaggy raven black hair sweeps across his shoulders and his russet brown eyes sparkle whenever he's looking at me. It makes me feel attractive. He never looks at anyone else that way. Never. Just me, his Nessie.
It makes me wonder…
"Hey Ness," he says, bounding across the room and bouncing onto my bed like a child. I smile at him, reaching out my hand to stroke his cheek. I hardly ever speak normally. Usually I like to speak with thoughts, memories.
I want to go for a walk in the woods.
Pushing this thought towards his skin, the demand burning my fingertips, I can feel his pulsating blood underneath my hand. I can see the thought through his eyes: a memory of us laughing and running, trees rushing past us. Me tripping, him grabbing me around the waist, supporting me. Our faces close together as he struggles not to drop me. His leathery smell floating up my nostrils, down my throat, into my stomach. It warms me, sends a tingling sensation right through my body to my toes.
"Teenage clumsiness," he said that time, making up excuses for me.
"Walk?" he asks now.
I nod, smiling at him. Then I crouch teasingly, prepared to spring. It's a game we love to play: cat and mouse. I'm the cat. He's the mouse.
He shrieks like a girl and rushes for the door, squeaking for my benefit. I'm right behind him, snarling and galloping.
The whitewashed walls surround us as we careen through the hall, tipping over one of Esme's tables as we round a corner, knocking off a vase. The smash of shattering glass reverberates throughout the house. I can hear Esme's exasperated sigh from the kitchen where she's cooking lasagne for me. Surprisingly it's quite good, though not as yummy as blood.
"Stop roughhousing, dog!" Rosalie shouts from downstairs where she's watching a movie. Emmett is curled up with her; I can hear his bad joke through the carpeted floor.
"Too bad, leech!" Jacob shouts back, shooting me a ragged smile. I laugh; a tinkling sound that seems too loud in the quiet. Sometimes it unnerves me, being the only thing that really breathes in this house when my Jacob isn't here. The only thing whose heart is beating.
I feel a sudden urge to hold him; to be sure he is real. For some reason he seems to be a fleeting gift of life, something that may not last forever. I stop running and stick out my lips in a pout. I know he'll come to me. He always does.
I'm right. He halts. He turns; a confused look on his face. Then, resigned to have the game end so soon, he wanders towards me. But before he can reach me, I spring, flying through the air, arms and legs stretched like a flying squirrel I saw in a book once. He's so startled that when our bodies collide, he doesn't stop me when I hold on tight. When we crash to the floor, me on top of him, hugging him for all I'm worth. Then he's hugging me back, hand rubbing soothing circles into my skin.
His husky smell is so close, so real. I don't understand this sudden urge to be touching him.
"What was that about?" he murmurs into my ear, his warm breath causing gooseflesh to crawl across my skin.
How do you describe the feeling of being without Jacob? Rushing through my memoirs in my head, I realize I have never been without him for more than a few hours. I touch his face, portray my naptimes.
He frowns. "Naptime?" he asks, confused. "You haven't had that since you were one."
I shake my head impatiently. He has to understand! He always has understood what I'm feeling! Why not now? Can't he read in my eyes that I just want to know he's always going to be here? That it's something words can't express?
I try my voice, clearing my throat. "I just want to make sure…" It's hoarse from disuse. My words trail off. It sounds ugly. My voice sounds ugly. Horrible. I don't want to be hideous in any way, not in front of my Jacob.
"What?" he asks urgently, taking my face in his hands. He's so near, it's making my head spin. I get the sudden urge to bite him, just to get my thoughts in order. I grab his hand, forcing his finger into my mouth. I bite down gently. He doesn't even flinch.
The salty, rusty liquid erupts in my mouth, causing me to gag. I hate the taste of Jacob's blood but for the fact that it clears my head. It just tastes too… wolfish. It ruins the human taste of him. Which is perfect, because I wouldn't want to end up eating my best friend. I already know humans are off limits, but that doesn't stop me from dreaming about the sweet, flowery smell of their blood, swishing back and forth in my mouth. So delicious. If Bella and Edward knew, they'd be relieved from their thoughts that I'm dreaming about boys. I can hear their vexed voices whenever they think I'm not listening, wondering what, or who, I'm dreaming of.
"Nessie?" Jake's strained voice interrupts my thoughts. It appears I'm stilling sucking on his finger. I spit it out, smiling sheepishly at him. My hands are on his chest, my hair trailing in his eyes. I suppose I should get up, but I just feel so comfortable, so right. I lay my head on his chest, hear his breathing hitch in surprise. Hear his low, muttered curse. "Crap."
I smile to myself. He's probably wondering what Edward will think if he finds us. Already I can hear his soft, liquid foot hasting towards us through the floorboards. Jake can probably smell him. I don't really care. Edward knows we're just friends; that that is all we'll ever be. I mean, how can Jake, my Jacob, ever want me as anything else? I mean, I'm half vampire, he's practically a werewolf. We don't belong together. That's what Leah told me once, when she was really angry, really sad. I feel sorry for her. It seems she's still searching for someone, just like I am. Just like Jake will when I'm grown up and I can't have him anymore. He'll find someone else to be with all the time, and I'll have to watch him fall in love.
I don't understand why Edward begrudges me the little time I do have with Jake. He's my best friend. Even though he might always be here, he won't always be all mine. I wonder, even now, why he hasn't started searching… am I that captivating a friend?
My eyelashes flutter closed, tickling my cheek. Before I am fully unconscious, though, my hand on my Jacob's cheek, I feel his hold on me tighten, just a little. What does that mean?
Jake
Renesmee's so angelic, sleeping here on my chest. Her intervallic light, even breaths blowing into my face, brushing a few stray strands of my hair out of my eyes. I'm afraid she'll disappear, she's so perfect, something only found in storybooks. I find it hard to believe I ever felt something for Bella. She pales in comparison to Nessie, seems so… inconsequential. I long for her to open her eyes, just so I can drown in their chocolate depths. They're so much deeper than Bella's were, so much so that I feel they hold an ocean of secrets.
Her long, pale body is right against mine, here on the floor of the hall, where anybody can walk by, anybody can tell Edward and get my throat ripped out.
"Renesmee," I whisper, just to hear her name, just to hear the honey-sweetness of it on my tongue. She's too beautiful for me, it's not fair that she's stuck with me. And yet she's still here, still willing to love me.
I run my fingers through her copper curls, twisting them around my fingers. She sighs and smiles in her sleep. I wonder what she's dreaming about. Then, suddenly, it hits me in a wave of colour and light. Crimson swishes through my brain, the taste of flowers and yogurt materializing in my mouth. I recoil, spitting and coughing. Blood. Dammit. She's dreaming of human blood. Not me, not any other boy who ogles at her whenever we walk downtown.
I'm glad, yet frustrated at the same time. It's a guilty pleasure to be with her now, so close and personal.
"Jake." Edward is not happy.
"Edward, please," I plead quietly, for more of my own sake than hers. "Let her sleep."
"Put her in her room. In her bed." Since Nessie had turned five, she's been given her own room in the big house. She hated hearing Edward and Bella at night, said it grossed her out. No wonder. Living that close to your parents would creep me out too. "Then, leave."
"Edward, she's six years old. She's almost full-grown. She's equivalent to a seventeen year old."
"Physically. But she's still innocent."
"How do you know?" I snap.
He shoots me a look. Oh yeah. He's a mind reader. Duh. "I think I'd know if my own daughter was still… pure," he says icily.
"But you don't know to let her go," I say angrily.
Edward's amber eyes flashed furiously. "I just want more time with my baby," he says. "I want Bella to have more time too."
His gaze sears into Nessie's head, and she stirs in her sleep, her mouth puckering like she is sucking a lemon. It is so cute that my heart stutters. A low growl rips through Edward's lips.
"What? You said I could have her." His eyes narrow. Okay, that came out all wrong. "I mean, you said that you didn't mind."
"When the time came!" he hisses. "But it hasn't!"
"How do you know?" I roar.
"Has she ever told you she loves you?" he says softly, but so forcefully that it's like a slap.
Anger at him flushes through my veins. How can he assume that she doesn't love me? Doesn't she? The wolf in me is writhing in agony, trying desperately to tear through my skin. I gasp and scramble to my feet, dumping Nessie to the ground.
"What?" she starts out of sleep, her mouth forming an ideal little 'o'. "Jake?"
Her voice cuts through my hatred, like light through darkness, but for some reason that just makes me angrier. Couldn't Edward hear the adoration in her voice? Or was I making it up?
"Jake?" she repeats, lurching to her feet, staggering a few steps. She hardly ever talks, but now she is, quickly, scared.
I have frightened her. Now I'm angry at myself, for causing her wide, petrified eyes, gawking mouth. The anger causes the button on my jean to pop as I grow, shedding my skin for fur. She reaches for me, but I recoil, afraid to hurt her perfect hide. My form is bursting through my humanness, roaring and growling viciously.
Instead of running away like she should, she leaps at me, just as Edward screams, "NO!"
Or is that me?