Renesmee looked out through the cobweb shrouded window, the faint red glow of sunrise kissing her face. This was as bright as the day would get.
The light lost to the dark storm.
Everything changed the day the sky boiled black.
Not her fault. The one thing that wasn't.
She tore her gaze away, always the same. If only her parents and Aro had made different choices that fateful day, then perhaps things may not have become so dire.
When the sky darkened, Vampire-kind were able to slink from the shadows and insinuate themselves more deeply in human affairs.
What came after… was inevitable.
The culling, the war, the bitter struggle which had been skewed from the start in the Volturi's favor.
The Humans had their apocalypse, leaving the vampires to rule the remnant with an iron fist.
Her self imposed exile had been necessary. The remnant had seen her as some sort of messiah. Her!
She bent down to lace up the battered trainers. The blood stains from their former owner were still there. No matter how hard she scrubbed, they never came out.
Another secret that she could never share.
All she had done in her life was run. That was all she knew how to do, she didn't know how to rule, organize an army, or be the strategist of a revolution.
They hadn't understood her refusal to take the mantle of leadership, especially him.
They had danced around each other, repelled by the unopposable force of their unique situation, yet the gravity of their link had held them close enough to intensify their torture. This tenuous push-pull connection had been abruptly severed when she left that long dark night. The twilight of their hope before despair fell.
Jacob.
The former big brother who had become her biggest stumbling block. Not because of how she felt about him, but because of how he had felt about her. He would have no choice but to take her off that messianic pedestal now, and see her for what she was. Weak, her humanity hamstringing her just as much as her Vampiric self. Stuck between two worlds and too frail to exist in either. But she had been strong enough to leave, yes, at least there had been that. That one moment of pride before she entered the prison of her eternal shame.
Nothing to do but hide and hope that there was someone else, someone worthy of their worship, some day.
she opened the door and stepped outside, her breath turning to mist in the frigid air. It's Time to run again.
AN: A picture of a post-apocalyptic twilight world rolled into my mind this morning- and simply had to write it down. Hope you enjoyed my little experiment. This will probably be a one shot unless inspiration takes me captive and I'm unable to wriggle from it's grasp.