Chapter Fourteen

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Renesmee

When I woke up, I was still in Jake's comforting arms. I sat up and placed my hand to my forehead, which was drenched with sweat. That was what I got for sleeping in the arms of a guy whose body temperature resembled a sauna. Jake was still sleeping, so I quietly pulled myself out of his tight grasp and tiptoed into the kitchen to cool myself down with a drink.

I looked around the room. His house was so warm, so pleasant and inviting, just like Jacob. The fridge was filled with picture of his life. Jacob with his brothers, with his parents, and with me. I chose one picture off the fridge and pulled it closer to look at it. It was from a few months ago, when he had come over to play board games with me on a rainy day. My father had captured the photo in the middle of me laughing; I don't even remember what I had been laughing about. Jacob was looking at me with his usual grin filling his face.

I was pulled out of my thoughts as I heard a loud thump come from the living room. I quickly walked back in to find Jake on the floor. I would have assumed that falling off the couch would have startled him awake, but he kept on snoring.

After going back to the kitchen, I put my head down on the table, burying my face in my arms. I thought about last night; had that really been me, asking all of those questions? How did I go from being terrified to even utter the word "why," to screaming at my parents to give me answers? Then I remembered: the voice. The smooth, perfect voice that told me what I needed to say.

Was I crazy? Did I really hear a voice? I wanted to tell myself that I didn't hear it, but that would be a lie. It was as real as if someone had been standing there talking to me. And it reminded me of someone I knew. But whose voice was it?

Look in the drawer, the smooth, perfect voice suddenly said, as clear as if it was right next to me.

I shot my head up, looking around the room, terrified. Of course there was no one there. I laughed softly; thinking about the voice actually made me imagine it. It was crazy the way the human mind worked.

Look in the drawer, it ordered again.

My heart started beating faster, matching my breathing. I realized what this meant; I was now clinically insane.

Do it now, it hissed.

Robotically, I stood up and walked over to the kitchen counter. I gently placed a shaking finger on the drawer directly in front of me, looking around the room, wondering if it was the drawer the voice was referring to.

Yes, open it.

With my hands still trembling, I slowly pulled it open, half expecting the person who had been speaking to be residing in it. I sighed with relief when I saw that inside it was just a stack of take-out menus and some junk mail.

"It's just a bunch of papers," I whispered to nobody.

But somebody answered. Rummage through them please, it ordered calmly.

I obediently flipped through the papers, searching frivolously for what the voice wanted me to find. I saw something that caught my eye—another photograph of Jake and me. I didn't recognize the area where the picture was taken, so I figured I had to have been six or seven years old in it, before the accident. I examined the little girl, a huge smile plastered on her face as she looked up at her best friend sitting next to her. I had thought the world of Jake back then. I probably admired him more than my own father.

Look at the boy.

I glanced to who seven-year-old me was staring at. It was just Jake. The same old Jake. The guy who had always been my best friend. The guy who loved me more than anything in this world. The grin on his face was equal to mine in the picture; loving and carefree. The same old Jake. The same old Jake. The same old…

The same old Jake. The same eyes, the same bone structure, the same hair length. The same smile, the same perfect lips, the same smooth skin. The same Jake. He hadn't changed one bit. Of course, I knew that before, but suddenly it was hitting me in a way that it never had before. Fury flowed through my veins; why didn't he age? The questions and the queasiness I felt along with them came flooding back to me. I glared at the picture, a new representation of those horrible secrets. Even Jake, the guy who said he loved me, the guy who said he would never ever hurt me, was keeping things from me.

It was then when I realized what I had been doing; I was using my love for him as an excuse for him keeping all of these things from me. I had always told myself that it wasn't his fault. I had always called him when I was upset, I had always let him hold me while I cried. But now I realized the truth: It was just as much his fault as it was my parent's fault. It was the fault of every single person who willingly choose to keep the truth from me, despite the fact that they knew it caused me pain.

You know when you're having a bad day and you have so much anger in you that the littlest things set you off? When you're so fed up and frustrated with life and all the crap that comes with it, you will take it out on anybody, even the people you love? Most people hate the feeling they're going to explode on the next person who simply looks at them with ill intent eyes. Well, imagine having that feeling every single day. But instead of actually letting out your anger, you keep it all inside you; never talking about it with anyone, never letting people know how you actually feel. This is what I felt like every day of my life. The anger, the frustration, the hurt. All three constantly building and building until it was unbearable to even be awake.

"Good morning, Nessie," I heard Jake say, forcing me from my thoughts, but not my determination.

I glanced down and saw that I still had the kitchen drawer open, my hands grasping the picture.

"Looking through my kitchen drawers?" he grinned. "I'm just kidding. What's mine is yours."

With that, my head perked up. "Are you sure about that, Jacob?" I grasped the picture tightly in my hand.

"Umm…yeah," he said, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion as he tried to figure out why I was acting so strange. "Why?"

"Because I want something, Jacob Black."

I watched the smile instantly come back to his perfect face. This was a sight I loved to see more than anything in the world, especially when I was the one to bring his happiness back. However, I knew this time, I would be taking it away again—probably for a long time.

"What do you want me to buy you, Renesmee Cullen?" he asked, grinning now.

"Oh, you don't have to buy it for me. You already have it."

"And it would be…?"

"I want…" I took a deep breath, feeling unbelievable strength that I never knew I had rise through me. "I want the truth."

There it was. His smile was gone. The laughter in his eyes was replaced instantly with anger, as if I had been the one to betray him.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he said, his voice low.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. I want what you know."

"And what do I know?" The snapping in his voice told me that he understood exactly what I was asking—and he did not like it.

"Everything. You know every single thing my parents are keeping from me. You know every single lie, every single secret that has forced a wedge between us."

"Um…" He started backing up into the living room, toward the front door, like he was planning on making a quick escape. I slowly started walking toward him, pointing an accusing finger in his direction.

"You know why my parents don't eat. You know why my parents don't sleep. You know where my parents have gone when they come home acting all paranoid. You know why they're so protective of me. You know who I am. You know, and I want you to tell me right now!"

Fury rang in my voice with every word, echoing through the house as a reminder of the pain I was in.

He held up a trembling hand. "Ness, please calm down…"

Renesmee, tell him you won't calm down. Tell him you want some answers now. Demand answers. You won't get anything in life if you aren't willing to demand it.

"Tell me now!" I shrieked, obeying the voice. "I want to know now, and neither of us are leaving until I get some answers!"

His eyes filled with shock. What could I say—I was shocked myself. This was what I wanted myself to do all along; to demand answers and not leave until I got them. I was finally going to get what I wanted.

"No, Nessie. I can't. I won't. Not here. Not now," he whispered furiously, his eyes cast to the ground.

"You will! You owe this to me. You say you love me. You say you would do anything for me. Well, here it is, Jacob. This is anything. You have seen me in pain, daily, for the past year and a half. A stranger in my own family. And yet, you've done nothing. You had the power to change things, and yet, you did nothing. You sat by and watched me suffer. You, who were my everything my entire life. You did NOTHING!"

He suddenly snapped his head up, his lips quivering with fury. "You need to stop, Renesmee!" he snarled, charging up to me until he was right in my face. I stared directly into his eyes, which were filled with a deadly rage.

And then there were two voices.

'This wasn't worth losing your best friend over, Nessie.' This additional voice was smooth and tranquil, resembling the other voice. However, it rang with pure concern rather than a hint of anger.

You won't lose him, Nessie. He'll only respect you more for talking about it with him, the other voice retorted hypnotically.

'Jake's getting angrier. Remember what your father said about his temper.'

Your father has lied to you before. He was just trying to scare you so this wouldn't happen.

'You'll find out in due time.

Months of solid torture.

'This isn't like you, Nessie.

This is you. The real you. The part of you that yearns to know.

'What will your mother say? She will be so hurt that you are doing this.'

Your mother's a liar too. They're all liars. Every one of them. Stop the lies, Nessie. Stop the lies. Stop the lies…

"Enough!" I suddenly screamed, silencing the voices. I glared at Jake, who had jumped slightly at my sudden outburst. "I won't stop until you tell me every detail. Every single detail."

"This isn't happening," he said softly, then snapped his gaze back on me, raising his voice again. "What the hell is wrong with you? You've never been like this before! What brought this on?"

When I looked in the drawer and saw the picture of me and you together, the soothing voice said.

"When I looked in the drawer and saw the picture of me and you together," I repeated.

"What about it? God, it's just a picture from when you were little!" he roared, kicking the kitchen table. It instantly collapsed to the ground, splintering into large pieces.

I ignored his violent outburst, trying to keep my voice steady. "Exactly. It's from when I was little. You look exactly the same."

"Some people don't change…"

"Oh don't give me that, Jake. You know as well as I do that something's going on here, and either you tell me right now or…" I stopped.

"Or what?" he snarled.

"Or..." But before I could finish, he stepped forward with a loud stomp. I held perfectly still as he reached out a trembling hand and wrapped it around my back, pulling me closer to him. Then he took my face into both of his rough hands as he stared deeply into my eyes.

And then he kissed me.