I ran. Just like I always do when I can't handle it anymore. Can't handle the way he looks at her, the way he forgot me.

He forgot me.

The moment he laid eyes on her, we were inconsequential. Poof. We knew that if one of us was lying on the floor dying, he would save her.

He would always save her.

He strokes her hair. I want to rip it off her head. He gazes into her brown eyes. I want to gouge her eyes out. If I did, he would kill me.

He would kill me.

I heard nothing behind me. He forgot me again.

He forgot me.

He was saving her again. Saving her from the vampires that wanted her dead. The same vampires that would try and kill me, and the rest of us. We were inconsequential. His pack was nothing compared to His Renesmee. His Imprint.

He would save her.

He forgot me. He would save her. He would kill me. He forgot me.

He forgot his Beta.

His Leah.

He would kill his Beta

His Leah.

He would save her.

Not His Leah.

He forgot his Beta.

His Leah.