Part 2 Love Can Make You Do… Crazy Things POV Bella
"So, you're still human," Jacob asks.
"Yes. I'm tired, Jake. And I need to feed Renesmee. I need some privacy," I say. Just then, Emily walks over with a warm bottle she has made for Renesmee on the stove top. I get it from her. "Thank you." Emily smiles. I put the bottle into Renesmee's mouth and watch her , I get up from the table. Everyone is watching me. I go outside on the back porch. There, I let myself go. The tears fall and I get a lump in my tight throat. Edward is gone. He is dead. And I will never ever see him, again. All I have to remember him by is Renesmee. My tears fall on her. Renesmee pokes her tongue out around the nipple and vomits. I am immediately concerned. She starts to cry, next. Not knowing what to do, I take her inside to Emily. "She won't eat," I complain to her.
"Let me try." Emily gently removes Renesmee from my arms and tries to give her the bottle herself. The baby pushes the nipple away with her tongue. Emily tries again. This time, Renesmee won't even open her mouth.
"What's wrong with her? Is she sick?" I ask. Emily looks over at me.
"I don't know. She's not hungry, it seems. Let's try again, later." Later, rolls around and she still won't eat. I lock myself in Emily and Sam's spare bedroom and attempt to breastfeed Renesmee. I feel better now that she seems to be enjoying it. She just wanted my milk all along.
"Ouch!" I cry out. She nipped me. How is that possible, when she has no teeth, yet? I have to pry her off my body, as she has latched on tight. I set her down and examine myself. I touch my hand to my left breast and see blood on my finger. I stare at it, immobile and horrified. She was drinking my blood. I decided to keep this to myself. No need to get everyone on edge. Things were just starting to feel normal again. I went to Billy's to see Jacob and Billy told me that Jacob went running. Over the next few months, I notice that Renesmee is growing quite rapidly, more than she should. In five months of her life, she looks like a one year old. And people are talking. They don't say anything to me about it, directly. But, I know they gossip about my daughter. They notice how fast she is growing. I take Renesmee to White Wolf to ask for advice.
"There is nothing you can do for her," White Wolf says, as she is sweeping her front porch. "Just let her grow into who she will be."
"You healed me. You can heal Renesmee, too."
"There is nothing wrong with Renesmee," she insists. I beg to differ, I think to myself.
"There's something else." The sudden change in the tone of my voice grabs her attention. For a moment I feel like she can read my thoughts.
"Come inside. Let's talk about it," she says. Her little house smells of sage and cinnamon. I sit at the table with Renesmee across my lap.
"She doesn't eat like a normal child. She won't drink milk."
"What have you been feeding her all this time?" Her eyes bore into me.
"My blood." White Wolf bucks her eyes in horror.
"You should not do that."
"But, she cries when I don't give her my blood. She'll die if I don't feed her."
"Now you have conditioned her to human blood. She is half vampire, but she is also half human. Blood spoils her. Stop giving her blood and force her to drink milk, but not from your body."
"She won't take milk."
"Keep trying. She eventually will." I have rented a house on the reservation for me and Renesmee. I go there with the shaman's words in my head, and I attempt to give Renesmee milk from a baby bottle. She refuses, repeatedly, crying hysterically. Then, I cry, not knowing what to do. I take a knife to my wrist, and slit it in the usual spot. I give my blood to Renesmee. She drinks, calmly. I become woozy by the scent. I pull my hand away, careful not to let her drink too much, for my sake. A year later, Renesmee is the size of a four year old. We celebrate her first birthday, anyway- Just me and her. I would have invited Jake, but he is nowhere to be found. She is sitting on the floor, with a slice of cake on a tray, waiting for me to hand her her present. I pull a babydoll from behind my back.
"Surprise. Happy Birthday, my love."
"Thank you, Mommy." Renesmee grabs the doll with her chunky hands. I dressed her in a white dress, white ruffled socks, and white mary- janes with bows on the buckles. She examines the doll. "What does it do, Mommy?"
"Nothing. You play with it," I laugh nervously. She takes one last look at the doll, then looks up at me and smiles with her rosy cheeks beaming bright. She sets the doll down.
"I'm hungry, Mommy." I sigh.
"Mommy's too tired to feed you, Renesmee." Her eyes are so innocent when she looks at me. "Have some cake," I say, my voice tired. She gives me a deadly serious expression.
"Mommy, you know I don't eat that," she says. Her tone sends a chill down my spine.
"Renesmee, please," I breathe. She frowns, gets up, grabs her doll by its arm, and storms out. I go into the bathroom and shove some B12 vitamins down my scratchy throat. I catch a glimpse of my pale, boney face in the mirror. That little girl will be the death of me. I find Renesmee outside on the swing set. The sun does not affect her at all. She has her doll and she has torn its head off and both of its arms. Now, she is working on a leg.
"What are you doing!" I dash over to her and take the doll. "I gave this to you as a gift. Why would you do this?" I demand.
"You made me mad," she says in a sweet little angry four year old voice.
"When you get mad, you talk to mommy, not take it out on your toys. Okay?" Renesmee nods in agreement. That night, I fall asleep in bed. I wake up to Renesmee sitting on top of my bed. I turn over and see her.
"I'm hungry, Mommy." –they are becoming my least favorite words. I don't move. She moves up and lays her cheek against mine. I sigh.
"I cannot give you anymore of my blood. I will die," I say.
"I don't want you to die, Mommy."
"Thank you. I appreciate that."
"-But, I must drink." Her voice chills me. Sometimes, I think she is much smarter than she looks or much smarter than she wants me to think.
"You will have to go to bed hungry, tonight," I say, regretfully. Renesmee never sleeps. She pretends to, sometimes, to pacify me.
"Mommy, come tuck me in. Please. And I want a story." I force myself to get up. I even manage to pick up Renesmee and carry her to her bedroom. I set her down on her bed and cover her with the Disney Princess sheets and comforter. I read her a chapter from our Disney Princess collection storybook and reach to kiss her when I am finished.
"Goodnight, Renesmee." She closes her eyes. I go to my bedroom and plop onto the bed. The next night, Renesmee says she is starving.
"Don't worry. I will get you something to eat," I promise her. I get in my car, with her in the backseat on the floor. She is hiding, like I told her to. I drive around, looking for a candidate for death. I pull up to a bar and get out. Renesmee stays inside. With a handy beretta hidden in my jacket pocket, I walk into the bar. Several eyes are on me, making me nervous. But, I have no time for nerves and I sit down.
"What will you have?" the bartender asks.
"Oh. Nothing. I'm waiting on a friend," I respond with a smile. I wait. Finally, someone approaches me and sits down next to me.
"Hey, there pretty lady."
"Hi." I turn towards him and we have light friendly conversation. I invite him to my place and he doesn't think twice. 20 minutes later, we are inside my car and on the road. I pull out my beretta and press it to his temple. He is shocked. "Don't… move," I say, with my other hand gripping the steering wheel. My voice is cold and impersonal. I pull over on the side of the road. "Get out." The man obeys. How far will I go to feed my daughter? "Get in front of me," I demand. Now, I have the gun to his back as he walks into the woods. I have my daughter with me, holding her hand while I hold a gun to a man's back with my other hand and bark orders at him. I kick him and he falls.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he whimpers as his body trembles. Renesmee lets go of my hand and sits down beside him. She smiles at him and strokes his hair, comforting him. Then, she grabs his head. He is confused. She bites his face and the man screams in horror. Renesmee feeds from him like a thirsty beast. I watch in astonishment. I am suddenly sick. I never noticed before how strong she is. She could easily steal my blood from me if she wanted. Why hasn't she? Maybe, she has told me the answer to this already: "I don't want you to die, Mommy." When she is finished, I rush her back to the car and tell her to get inside and duck her head. I pull a shovel from the trunk. I have well prepared for this night. I return to my daughter's victim and dig his grave beside him. This is strenuous work and I grow weaker by the moment. I catch his left hand twitching. He is not completely dead. Quickly, I pull the trigger and blow out the back of his head.
I roll his body over into the grave with my boot and I cover it with the earth's soil. There. I go back to the car and drive us home. I put Renesmee to bed. I wash my boots in the bathtub and remove my clothes to soak them in hot water. Then I have second thoughts. So, I take the clothes outside and set fire to them. There is no use in taking a chance on these things becoming evidence in a detective's locker.
In five years, Renesmee is almost as tall as me. She has the mature body of a seventeen year old. She looks more developed than I do and I am her mother. I have killed constantly so that she may live, and afterwards; I always cry in privacy. The love I have for her, it must be unhealthy. Yet, I cannot fathom the thought of killing her. With her, I am able to hold onto the memories of the past. And remember her uncles and aunts, and her father, Edward. I look into her eyes and I see myself and my father and mother, who I have not seen in years. Renesmee is a teenager and is interested in teenage things. She is friends with the Quiluete teens and quite popular in school. Her life is great, yet I sense something wrong, something missing. I don't know how, but I know she is hiding something from me. I have suggested to her to start drinking animal blood, and she laughed in my face. I hear her stilettos creeping in in the middle of the night. I hear the front door close. Most teens who have snuck out will sneak back in through a window or something- But, not Renesmee. She is so bold.
I am waiting for her in the living room with the lights off. "Where have you been?" I ask. I flip on the lamp beside me. She pauses.
"I was out with my friends."
"You never mentioned you wanted to go out. You never asked my permission."
"I realize I don't have to," she says, catching my eyes, trying to pull me into a trance, and maybe put me to sleep. I have learned that if I don't look right into her eyes when she stares this way, I cannot be persuaded. Her words puzzle me.
"What does that mean?" I demand.
"You are a mere mortal, Mother. I am much more. I don't need your permission. If anything, you need mine." My jaw drops to the floor. "Goodnight, Mother." She smiles, and heads straight to her room. The next day when Renesmee goes out, I sneak into her room. I am curious. She doesn't talk to me much, anymore. And that worries me. In her closet, there are expensive, designer clothing dripping from hangers and designer bags on the top shelf. Pricey shoes are lined up perfectly on the floor of the closet. Alice would be so proud. But, where does she get the money for these things? In her dressers, I find more clothes and start to lose interest. Then, a piece of paper catches my eyes. It is at the bottom of the drawer. I pull out all the clothes and discover hidden newspaper clippings… of unexplained disappearances and unsolved killings. Why does she have these? None of the photos of the dead I recognize. I do her killing for her. I told her long ago that I don't want her to do more than she has to for blood. She doesn't have to resort to murder. I do it for her to keep the victims quiet. But who am I fooling. She is a natural born killer. That is a fact. Psychopaths keep news clippings of their victims as some strange satisfaction. I hope that this isn't the same thing.
The next night, I prepare to go out and grab Renesmee's dinner. I feel her eyes on my back as I slip into my black leather jacket. "What is it, sweetheart?" I ask. Though motherly, I am cautious. My hand creeps to the gun in my side pocket.
"I am a big girl now, Mother. I can catch my own food. You don't have to do this. I know how much you hate it," she says.
"That is very thoughtful, Renesmee. But you made a promise to me that you would never murder for blood."
"I have kept my promise so far and I will never break it." I look at her, confused.
"Then, you need me to hunt for you."
She sighs, caringly."I will hunt without you." I give her a concerned stare. She reaches out and caresses my cheek with her warm hand. "You have to trust me, Mother." Then, she walks away. I think about following her- to see where she goes and witness exactly what she does. But a part of me deep down warns that is a very bad move. And I have no choice, but to 'trust' my mysterious Renesmee.
