Chapter Nine- Renesmee
His lips grazed my collarbone and kissed right below my ear. His warm hands circled around my bare waist and settled on the small of my back. My arms wound around him and I nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his scent. His skin smelled like pine needles and soap. He smelled like Jacob, and god, how I missed that. I could have cried, I had missed him so much, and here he was. He ran a hand through my hair, gently untangling the curls as he went.
"I missed you." I breathed against his skin, kissing his jawline. My vision blurred with tears, but I could still see him smiling that smile that I loved. His arms tightened around me for an instant, and then he was gone. Vanished into thin air. I tried to follow, I tried to run after him, but there was nowhere to go. I was surrounded by nothing but white; this awful blinding white that left me no perception of how fast I was running; if I was making progress at all. I screamed his name. I screamed for him to come back, to please not leave me here—
I woke with a gasp, my cheeks wet with real tears. It was just a dream, I chanted, wiping the moisture from my face with the back of my hands. Just a dream. But it wasn't. It felt real. Jacob felt so warm and solid beneath my fingertips. His skin was so warm and his lips— Stop it, Renesmee. Focus.
I was in my room—God, no—this isn't my room. Just the room they keep dumping me into. I jumped up from the bed and then had to steady myself on the headboard. Everything was spinning, and panic began to run through my veins because I couldn't get my eyes to focus on anything. When I could finally tell up from down, I crossed the room and reached for the door handle. It didn't budge; the knob wouldn't turn.
I stared at the wooden door in shock. He locked me in.
My face flushed with rage and I was about to break the door, because I was sure I could, but I heard voices and froze. I pressed my palms flat against the smooth wood and pushed my ear against the door.
I caught the tail end of whatever Joham was saying from somewhere downstairs. "—and I'm out of ideas. This is the second one this week,"
The door suddenly unlocked with an audible click and I jumped backwards. More gently, it opened, and saw Nahuel standing in the doorway. "Sorry," he hovered outside, "I didn't mean to scare you. And I had no idea he locked you in here."
"Don't worry about it." I waved him in and closed the door. "How long was I asleep?"
He shrugged. "A little less than a day."
"A day?" I blanched. "What did he give me?"
Nahuel grimaced, "I'm not sure."
I lost a whole day. My stomach twisted with hunger, but that was very far down on my list of things to worry about. I sat on the still-made bed and patted the spot next to me. He sat, and a somewhat-awkward silence settled over us.
"Listen," he began, "About what Joham said yesterday… About why he brought you here…I had no idea. And I have absolutely no intentions of…that. I mean, I would never—"
"I didn't think you would," I cut him off so he wouldn't have to finish.
He studied my face for a second, with a little bit of sadness. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a pad of paper. From the nightstand, he pulled out a pen. I watched him with confusion as he began to write.
He scrawled something down, and when he pushed the paper towards me, I got it. If we wrote, Joham wouldn't know what we were talking about. This didn't work in my family anymore; they had learned the sounds of each letter being shaped on the paper after Jacob and I had been doing it for a few weeks. I grabbed the notepad, hoping Joham wasn't that smart.
Your family should be aware of what's happened. Huilen went to warn them the same day I left. He wrote, with a few mistakes that gave away that English wasn't his first language. I couldn't help the smile that spread over my face at his words. I could have cried.
But they still didn't know where I was.
I took the pen from him and wrote back, They won't be able to find me.
I shoved the paper to him, and he didn't hesitate to write back, If I remember, your family is fiercely protective. I have no doubt that they will find a way.
He tired to smile reassuringly, and I tried, unsuccessfully, to let some of his optimism rub off on me. He picked up the pen again and added, And if they can't, we will.
I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. I mouthed a thank you and Nahuel smiled back. How long, I wrote, do you think it take for Joham to want to leave here?
He read it and scribbled back, He won't move these women, so I think we'll be here until they are all gone.
Gone. Dead, he means. We don't leave until the pregnant women die. But what if they didn't? What if, even just one of them, made it long enough for at least the baby to be saved? Would that increase the amount of time we're here?
"What's going on out there?" I asked him aloud, my voice barely a whisper. "I heard Joham talking, about being out of ideas?"
Nahuel let out a sigh so deep that I thought briefly of my dramatic father, and then he lowered his mouth to my ear. "One of the humans died last night. If she had lasted another day or two, it would've been the first successful birth."
I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip so I wouldn't scream in frustration. I let out a shaky breath and asked, "How many does that make?"
"Left? Five. All of which, if they survive, should give birth within the next week."
I nodded. "Do you think Joham would let me see them?"
Nahuel studied me carefully for a minute, and then asked, "Why?"
"Because," I leaned back until my head hit the wall, "How long do you think it's been since they talked to someone sane, who will actually listen to them? I want them to know that someone here is on their side." This wasn't 100% truthful, but it was close enough.
"Okay," he nodded. "Let's see what we can do."
We walked across the hall and down the creaky staircase, where Joham and his daughters were gathered. Jennifer noticeably lit up, and then dimmed down again when I didn't return her smile.
I stepped past Nahuel and locked eyes with Joham.
"The women downstairs are dying." I said. He wasn't fazed.
"Yes," he nodded, and if I didn't know better, I would've said he sounded guilty.
"I want to see them." I said, trying to sound stronger than I felt.
He looked down, and then up suddenly, his eyes suddenly alight. "Of course," he said. "Of course you may; I would be delighted for any suggestions you may have. I'll take you down."
"Could I go alone?" I asked, and his eyes narrowed, but he nodded. I followed him to the basement door, which had four separate locks on it. "What do they eat?" I asked as he swung the door open.
"They eat like humans," Joham shrugged, "Although they're usually not well enough to eat much anyway." He held the door for me and pointed. "Down the stairs—the door on the left. The door on the right is their kitchen."
I nodded and walked past him. "Wait," I turned back to ask, "how much do they know?"
His black eyes bore into mine. "Everything."
Of course. Because they're dying anyway, right?
Alone, I walked down six polished wooden stairs and then down a short hallway lit by bright fluorescent lights. At the end were two doors, both heavy-looking and tall. Slowly, I opened the one on the left. At first, nothing happened. None of them even glanced my way, like they were used to constant visitors.
It was a big room, set up dormitory style with four beds along the right and left walls. The back left corner of the room was an assortment of couches, all pointing to a large TV that no one was watching. There was a door to the bathroom in the other corner, and a long table that ran down the center of the room that looked just like the one in the dining room at home. The bed closest to me held a small, but very pregnant brunette, who appeared to be fast asleep.
There were two blondes sitting at the long table in comfortable-looking leather chairs. One of them sat cross-legged, reading. The other had her eyes closed, and was sitting so still that I would have thought she was asleep, had her hands not been tracing large circles on her round belly, in a constant, unceasing pattern.
"Who are you?" A voice asked behind me, and I jumped. I spun around to face the most exhausted looking woman I'd ever seen. She was the same height as I was, with straight red hair that fell like a velvet curtain past her chest. She looked young; maybe 25, and that was with the purple bags under her eyes and sunken-in cheeks, so who knew how old she actually was. I was surprised she was even standing; she looked so weak. She stared at me quizzically, her tired blue eyes held a gentle curiosity.
"I'm Renesmee," I touched a hand to my chest rather than reaching out to her like I wanted to; she looked too fragile. By now the women sitting at the table were paying attention, and I tried to smile. "Joham brought me here," I tried to explain, "I'm…" I searched for a good way to say it, and found none, so I pointed to the redhead's stomach and blurted, "I'm like your baby. Like Joham's daughters."
Redhead raised an eyebrow and waddled past me to sit at the table with the other women. "But you aren't one of his daughters?" She asked, breathless from the five-yard shuffle.
"No." I shook my head.
"Why are you here?" The cross-legged blonde asked me.
That was a good question. I fumbled for an answer. "He took me," I shrugged; the best explanation I had.
"Welcome to the club," the other blonde finally opened her eyes and smiled weakly at me. "I'm Corrine." Her accent was Swedish.
"Amanda," the other blonde waved.
Redhead reached out to me, and I crossed the distance for her and clasped her hand it in mine and shook it. "I'm April." She said, and pointed to the sleeping brunette. "That's Julie."
"We lost Anna last night," Amanda added softly.
"I heard," I replied gently, sitting down at the table with them. "I'm so sorry." But none of them looked particularly upset by it. Like that was just protocol; dying was part of the plan.
Corrine murmured, "I just want him to live." She had her eyes closed again, and was patting the top of her stomach gently. The other two women nodded in agreement.
"Don't you want yourself to live?" I asked no one in particular.
Amanda let out a little laugh and then winced. "That isn't exactly realistic… What did you say your name was?"
"Renesmee," I said, and then added quickly, "But you can call me Nessie."
"Like the Loch Ness Monster." Amanda smiled; her skin stretched almost translucent over her sharp features.
"Yes," I laughed. And then Corrine gasped out in pain, clutching her stomach in both hands. I was the only one who reacted. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" I rushed over to her.
Silently, she held up a finger. She didn't breath for almost a full minute, and then she finally exhaled and told me, "He was kicking; that's all. I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" I pressed, and she nodded, the little color she had before returning to her face.
I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn't stand to watch this anymore, and I'd only been down here for ten minutes. It was so wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I couldn't say that these babies were the terrible problem; I was one of them. But their mothers having no hope of ever seeing them? That was beyond awful.
I wanted to cry for doing this to my mother, I wanted to scream at Joham for doing this to them. I couldn't stand the thought of anyone else dying for this; anything this traumatic and devastating isn't natural. This isn't natural. I am not natural.
I might have excused myself; I might not have. But I stood up and walked as fast as I could out the door, through the hallway, and back inside. I closed the door behind me and made a beeline for the staircase, pushing past Jennifer and Maysun in my hurry. I didn't stop to talk to anybody, I just ran as fast as I could up the stairs and into the first bathroom I saw. I flipped up the lid of the toilet as my stomach twisted and had there been anything actually in it, I would have thrown up. But there wasn't, so all that fell into the clear water was a few tears. But I was not letting myself have a meltdown.
I just needed a break, to take a step back and gain some perspective. God, I'm turning into my father. I tried to turn on the sink faucet to splash some water on my face, but I was shaking too much to turn the nobs. So I stripped the clothes that weren't mine and pulled back a white shower curtain to reveal an ugly tiled shower. I made the water hot enough to scald my skin and stepped in. I took some deep breaths and told myself to think about what to do. Not about Jacob, not about my parents, I needed a plan.
I needed to keep the women down there alive. The longer they lived, the longer we would be here, the longer my family had to find me, or the longer I had to figure out my own way to get out.
Joham couldn't keep them healthy long enough to give birth. My mother survived her entire pregnancy with me, and my birth. She was the only woman ever to do that, and I knew the story. I knew how my family pulled that off.
I knew something Joham didn't. They needed blood. With that, they would live long enough for Joham to get the babies. He wouldn't save the mothers, not like my father did.
But telling him about the blood…that could keep them alive long enough for my family to find me, but it would also enable him to keep doing this; it could increase his success rates and motivate him all the more, whereas if he keeps failing, he might just give up.
I don't know what to do. For the first time in my life, nobody is going to give me a hint, or nudge me in the right direction.
I sat on the floor of the shower and let the water run over me, even after it ran cold. By the time I reached up and finally turned it off, I knew what I had to do.
AN:
What do you think Nessie's gonna do?
Be sure to review! I need to know if this sucks or not before I continue and it's too late to change it! Speak now or forever hold your peace.
And tell me if I made stupid mistakes! I tried really hard not to, but I finished and posted this chapter so fast that it's possible.
xo-
Vanessa
