Chapter 11 (Renesmee's Pov.)

I stare at my mother, now lying on the floor with her hands on her stomach, too involved in what she's doing to notice me. "Mommy?" I ask in a broken, shy whisper.

She whips her head around, immediately making her dizzy and vomit again. This time I can't hold back the cries of confusion that escape my body. I try to go to her after she sits back up, but she holds her hands up to stop me.

I freeze in my steps realize that her eyes are blacker than ever. She was getting rid of the blood in her system, and was thirsty. My blood was the only thing like a human's around here, but she wouldn't hurt me. I trusted her.

I took another step closer and almost run out of the room when she lets out a wild growl. My mother, the one who bandaged my cuts and scrapes, the one who could handle my blood for ten months, now wanted to drain me dry. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but I could see how much she wanted it. My first thought was to go get Daddy, but then I remembered that he wasn't here. He had gone to the mainland to pick up some things for the house!

I told my mother, "Stay here Mommy; I'll be back in a little bit with Daddy. We'll help you okay?" While taking slow steps back, I realized that she might have just been embarrassed for me to see her like that, and she was trying to make me go away. But it didn't matter. I was still going to get Daddy.

I ran to the dock where we kept the boat and Jet skis that I'm only allowed to use with Momma or Daddy with me. I figured now wasn't time to worry about rules. I jumped onto the ski and took off immediately gunning it as fast as it could go. This was also breaking two more of my parents' rules; taking it past sixty miles per hour, and not wearing a life-jacket.

I start to see the mainland after about forty-five minutes. I bring the ski to an abrupt halt and fly up, out of the water and onto the sand. I run through the streets and no one seems to question a five year old white girl running through the streets of Rio.

I run straight into the building that Daddy picks things up at, yelling out, "Daddy!" with my mind and voice. He is instantly at my side. I let him see into my mind, all the visions of Mommy and the blood.

He scoops me up in his arms and we're at the ski before I can even say "hurry." He looks at me for a second, probably debating whether or not to yell at me for the broken rules, but he shakes his head instead.

He lifts me onto the Jet Ski and says in a stone cold voice, "Drive." I do without hesitation as Daddy whips out his cell phone to probably call Grandpa Carlisle. As I peel off from the beach, a man on shore says to his companion, "Is that four year old driving the ski better than I can?"

I laugh slightly, but then it cuts off as I catch a word from daddy's conversation. "…wrong…." And yes, this is all wrong. Vampires shouldn't vomit blood, or feel dizzy, or get butterflies in their stomachs. This is wrong, and possibly dangerous. My mother could die.

Daddy snaps his phone shut as we pull up to the docks and throws me over his shoulder, jumping onto the wood. He sets me down and just before he runs inside, he turns and tells me, "Your mother will not die. I will never let that happen. You should know better."

I am slightly scared by this man. This angry, burning man who shows no emotion. Things are weird around here. I came here to have a family, but instead this islands seem to make us fall apart.

(A/N Please Review! I want to at least get two reviews by Sunday! Reviewing means so much to me and it lets me know what you do and don't like about my story.)