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"The truth is rarely pure and never simple."

-Oscar Wilde

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This Diary is for

our darling daughter,

Renesmee Carlie Cullen

"Nessie"

Who lights up our lives,

even in our darkest days.

Never give up hope,

for the world became a brighter place

the moment you were born.

Always remember how much we love you.

Love always.

Mom and Dad

Dear Diary,

Dad and Mom told me that I should write in you because it might make me feel better. They said I used to write in you all the time. I wish I could remember when they gave you to me. They said it was on my sixth birthday which means it was more than three years ago because I am ten now. They also said that I had been very excited when I opened you. I can see why because you are very beautiful. I have read some of your pages and it seems like I had a happy life. The only thing I am upset about is that there are pages ripped out of it. Did I do that? I am so sorry if I did. I wonder what caused me to tear out some of your pages. Maybe I had written something mean about someone and then decided that I liked them again. I might be able to find the pages if I look around my room.

Aunt Alice seems very nice. She's Dad's sister and has been over every day telling me about my life. Her husband Uncle Jasper seems nice too. When I get frustrated about not remembering anything he gives me a hug and makes me feel a lot better. I also love Aunt Rosie. She is the most beautiful person I have ever seen in my life. At least I think she's the most beautiful person I have ever seen in my life.

Uncle Emmett is really nice too. He's Dad's brother and Aunt Rosie's husband. He's very strong. I bet he could lift a car with one hand.

Diary, I am very confused right now. I hope that I remember soon. Please help me remember Dairy. I don't want Mom and Dad to think I've forgotten them. I know that I loved them very much before my accident and I love them now too for taking care of me. I just really wish I could remember them.

My whole family is going to play board games right now so I have to go. I will write in you again soon.

Love,

Nessee

Nessie

Dear Diary,

I just finished eating dinner. Mom and Dad didn't eat and my aunts, uncles, and grandparents didn't either. I guess once you are older, you don't have to eat anymore. I can't wait until I'm that age. I really don't like food. Nothing tastes good to me but I don't tell my parents that. If I ate before my accident I want to eat now too. Playing board games was really fun yesterday. Everyone had to explain the rules of my favorite games because I couldn't remember them. But I had a lot of fun. Dad is going to read me a book now. I am glad I have been writing in you every day. It makes me feel a lot better. I promise I will write in you tomorrow.

Love,

Nessie

Dear Diary,

I'm sorry I haven't written to you in a few years. I am now sixteen years old—I guess it has been about three years since my last entry.

Diary, something huge is happening. We are moving. I get to go to a real school and be with real people, other than my family. And Jake is moving with us, although he is going back home to live with his brothers about an hour away. Even though he will be far, I am glad he is moving too; I can't imagine being without him. Plus, I have a huge crush on him. But that's a different matter that I do not have the time to discuss with you. I promise I will fill you in on everything. The town we are going to be living in is Port Angeles which is in Washington. I hope he still wants to hang out with me once I'm living near him. He probably has tons of other friends that he wants to spend time with more than me. Oh well, I can make other friends as well.

My entire family is moving with us too.

Well, I have to go pack now. We're leaving in three days! I promise I will write in you again soon!

Love,

Nessie

Chapter Four

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Renesmee

Secrets—I firmly believe that no good can come from them. They only lead to anger, heartache, and betrayal. They bring people together just as quickly as they tear people apart. Most kids experience secrets with their friends—whispering in the hallway, passing notes in class. There's that amazing feeling that you get when you know something that someone else doesn't and then there's that dreadful feeling that you get when the situation is reversed.

There's one place in the world where a kid can go and feel like there are no secrets. Home. Family. Where everybody knows everything; everything about both the past and present. Some people argue, saying that they have a lot of secrets from their parents, but those are not the secrets I'm talking about. Sure you're not going to tell your parents about how drunk you got last weekend or how far you went with your boyfriend. Sure you're not going to tell your siblings how much they mean to you and that you could never bear to lose them. These things are not the secrets that bother me—the secrets I'm talking about simple, but absolutely life-changing.

Unlike most kids my age, my family is full of secrets. Secrets that they cannot bear to keep anymore. Secrets that I cannot bear to have withheld anymore. I would do anything to find out the things my family knows. Well, almost anything. The only thing I would never do is probably the most logical thing to do: ask. It's not like I haven't tried before. I can recall many times that I had worked up a day's full of courage, just to go up to my parents and demand to know what was going on. However, just like I knew I would, I always chickened out. But what was I afraid of? My parent's reaction? I don't really care for confrontation, but even if they got mad, I think I could handle it. How to ask the questions? For some reason, I have never been able to explain myself well, but I think I could word it correctly. Not getting the question answered? Maybe that wouldn't be such a disappointment. See the thing I'm afraid of is actually getting the answer. What if it was something that I couldn't handle? I know for a fact that the answers to the questions I long to ask are not simple. I know for a fact that the answers to the questions I long to ask are scary. I know for a fact that the answers to the questions I long to ask are life-changing.

I have known these things for a fact since I was little. These secrets have everything to do with me, everything to do with my past, present, and future. To not know a major part of my life is frustrating beyond belief. My entire family can see that it tears me up inside. They can see that it's all I can think about. They can see that even though I do not ask the questions, I want them answered. And yet, my entire family does nothing about it.

It is true that secrets are harder for me accept than for other people. It would make sense for it to be normal for a person who cannot remember a major part of his or her life to despise secrets. When I was seven, I was in a major car accident and went into a coma. When I awoke, I was in a strange house. I couldn't remember my name, where I lived, or anything else about my life. Being ten years old, I did not completely understand what was going on or why it was happening to me. I did not understand who the doctor was who was taking care of me. I did not understand who the man and woman were who were holding my hand and kissing me. I did not understand who the other people were who came through the house, checking up on me. They kept telling me that the doctor was my grandfather, that the man and woman were my parents, and that the other people were my aunts, uncles, and my grandmother. They kept telling me these things, but I couldn't believe them. How could these people supposedly be so important to me, when I could not remember them?

I recalled that week of recovery literally as if it happened yesterday. I suppose if you're missing ten years of your life, you have a lot more room in your brain to remember other things. My family kept telling me stories about my past, how I had grown up in Phoenix, Arizona and how we moved to Juneau, Alaska when I was four. This appeared to be a reasonable story to me at the time, but now I look back on it and wonder if it was the truth. I don't doubt that I was born in Arizona, and I don't doubt that we were citizens of Alaska during my coma. The time that we moved is the only thing that I question. After looking back on it, I had this feeling that we hadn't lived in Alaska for three years—it seemed as if we had just arrived. Although mostly everything was neat and orderly, there seemed to be some boxes throughout the house that still needed to be unpacked-and the next day, there contents were put away and the boxes thrown in the trash. I cannot imagine that it took my family three years to unpack those boxes. And while they thought I was asleep, I heard my parents discussing things that needed to be done such as changing driver's licenses, license plates, and identification cards. Why in the world would they need to change those things all of a sudden?

It took me six years to realize all of that. Six years. Even though I heard, saw, and clearly remembered it, I never thought anything of it. I supposed my parent's weird behavior and the unpacked boxes were never really important to me—that is, until just a year ago, when I was sixteen years old, and we made our life changing move to Port Angeles, Washington.

The only thing I know for certain is that the key to everything lies in what happened during the first ten years of my life.