Chapter Twenty-Two

November made a quiet arrival. Bella and Edward had remained with Renesmee, who cried every single night since Jacob's death. Edward and Bella had done one thing right by being a solid support system for their daughter, though it was still sad how they had only come back together in response to something as serious as a death.

November was quiet, but Renesmee was quieter. Closer to the middle of November, she had stopped crying every night. She was silent, but wasn't outwardly suffering anymore. It had to mean something to her parents. As tragic as Renesmee's predicament was, her parents were desperate to get her to move forward, even just a little bit. It had been hard enough for Bella to sit, static and still, but it would be pure agony to watch Renesmee go through that pain. She would still have the rest of eternity to try to live again. Just because it was the end for Jacob did not mean it would be the end for Renesmee.

At least, that was what Bella and Edward thought.

One night in November, Renesmee had convinced her parents to leave her alone for a night. Her mother's eyes had turned black with hunger, and her father had grown bored. She knew the rest of the family were going to go on a hunting trip tonight, and she wanted Bella to take part in that. Renesmee also knew that Edward had become interested in flying aircrafts within the last six months, since he had gotten over his aversion to flying cars. He had gotten his pilot's certification just last September before Jacob had passed, but he hadn't had much to do with it. Renesmee told Edward to go fly, and told Bella to go hunt.

Alone time was just what Renesmee needed.

After convincing her parents to leave her alone for the night, she patiently waited until they were far, far away from her. Edward was going to embrace his pilot's certification by flying to Dubai tonight. The rest of the Cullens headed out soon after him. They were supposed to hunt game in parts of northern Canada tonight.

Once Renesmee knew she was truly alone, she made a beeline to the kitchen. She had a wild, powerful war in her mind. It was spinning, buzzing, and whirring, and she needed to put an end to it before it finished her first.

She had lied. (And making herself stop crying had been one of the greatest challenges of her life.) She wasn't okay enough to be alone - she wasn't okay at all. She felt like how Jacob must have felt in the moments before he had officially decided to kill himself, and it was suffocating her before she could do the job herself.

Renesmee knew it was bad, and she knew it was ugly, but she had no choice anymore. It was going to be over soon enough.

In the kitchen of the cottage, she located the sharpest knife just where she had hidden it a week ago. Her parents had never guessed she would kill herself, being the perfect positive doll they had raised, but she didn't want to lose the ability to locate her weapon of choice in the off-chance that her parents ever got a clue tried to save her from herself.

With her erratic heartbeat in her ears, Renesmee picked up the knife and held it up to the light. It was sharp. It would do the job in no time. One quick slice, a little choking, and gone. Good and gone.

He lied, she thought. I'm not equipped for this world, either. I've never been suitable for this world.

Renesmee brought the knife up to her throat, shut her eyes, took one last breath, and sliced the edge of it against her skin.

It didn't even scratch her. Her skin was too strong, too tough, and too impermeable.

She opened her eyes and looked at the knife. It was definitely real and she was definitely too tough, even at her throat. She pressed down hard and slid the knife across her left wrist, then her right wrist, then straight down the both of them, then at her stomach before stabbing it with all of her strength, then at the backs of her thighs, and she didn't make the slightest dent. Not even a scratch or a print. All she did was bend the knife.

Even in her weakest, most pathetic moments, she was still far too strong for her own good.

Silent, she left the cottage and snuck into the woods, heading towards the main house.

Frustrated, angry tears stung in Renesmee Cullen's eyes. As she looked up at the glass mansion that she had spent her idealistic, fraudulent childhood in, she knew she wasn't home. She wasn't anywhere near it. The house held nothing but chains for her, and she didn't feel liberated. She didn't have a choice anymore - all the stupid, petty choices she'd made when she was younger didn't matter now. Nothing mattered anymore except the task at hand, which was to end all of this. And it just might happen if she could leave her feelings out of her mission.

Renesmee went straight to Carlisle's infirmary, skipping three steps at a time on the staircase. She knew it would be there - it had to be. The remedy would be just where she thought: the same place it was a week ago when she had looked for it, setting up a backup plan in the chance that slitting her throat wouldn't work.

She paced to the fridge in the back of the room and opened the door to the fridge. She quickly took out the glass beaker. There was only 100 milliliters of the remedy left, but it would be just enough for her.

Renesmee knew that Carlisle had meant to get rid of the rest of the remedy sample since it was clear that nobody else would be turning back, but with all the issues that had occurred recently, that must have been the least of his worries. If Renesmee was happy for one thing in this horrid, dire situation, it was that. She would have to give Jacob a twisted thank you when she met him again.

Hot tears were running down her face as she held the cure in her hands. She couldn't hear and she couldn't see, but she could think. And all she knew was that the sooner she was human, the sooner she could kill herself, and the sooner it would all be over. From the angle that she saw it, the only way she could ever be happy again would be if she was dead, like Jacob.

After living a vacuous life with a vapid mind, there was nothing left. She had lost faith in her parents, lost respect for the rest of her family, and lost the most important thing to ever exist before her eyes: Jacob. She only thing she had left to lose was herself. The sooner she was human, the sooner she could lose herself for good. She was nothing but a shameless, empty shell that she needed to break free from.

She downed the liquid in one gulp, nearly choking in the process. It was bitter - and strong. Within seconds, she saw bright lights flashing around the room and heard a high-pitched, continuous noise as she got hot and cold flashes. She tried to hold on to the door of the fridge for support, but as she moved, she lost all sense of balance and collapsed to the floor, landing on the beaker and effectively breaking it with the weight of her body.

She blinked, and the room was no longer in color, in tones of brown and green and blue, but it was all white. She moved her hands across the floor and under her in order to move the pieces of glass, but she felt nothing. She couldn't even feel her veins bursting one by one. She knew she was screaming, but her throat should have might as well been cut out. She couldn't hear herself. She couldn't hear anything but the high-pitched whistle that filled her ears, threatening to crack her eardrums.

Renesmee started convulsing on the floor, her skin turning purple. She convulsed for what felt like an eternity, and she wasn't aware of her last thoughts. All she knew was that she had only meant to become human so she could properly commit suicide. She hadn't meant to die in a nasty, horrible accident on the way to killing herself purposefully, on her own terms. As the queen of petty mistakes, she couldn't even feel sorry for herself anymore. She couldn't feel anything at all.

When the convulsions were all over, Renesmee laid still on the floor of the infirmary with her mouth slightly agape, her glazed brown eyes looking up to the white lights, and a substance as black and sticky as tar oozing from her nostrils.

Edward didn't feel good about flying out tonight. He had spent a good half hour at the runway at Port Angeles, considering if tonight was the right time. Dubai had always been his top destination since he had gotten his certification, but that could always wait. Bella needed to hunt; he didn't need to fly out. So Edward drove back home to Forks to be with his daughter. It was the least he could do.

He came home to an empty cottage, but before panicking, he just went to the main house. He could see why Renesmee would want to spend the night in the bigger house; the cottage was too cramped. He had a bad feeling, though, like something was very, very wrong. For one thing, the front door to the main house was wide open.

"Renesmee?" he called as he entered the mansion. Nothing. He couldn't be worried about a burglar or anything; his family had nearly unlimited resources. But Renesmee was nowhere to be found downstairs. Not in the living room, or the kitchen, or even the garage.

Edward checked the rooms on the upper floors. There was no reason for her to be in anybody else's bedroom, but he looked for her, anyway. There wasn't a sign of her in any of the bedrooms.

The infirmary was the last place he went, and when he entered the room, the first thing he saw was the bronze hair. With hair the same color as his, Edward could recognize his daughter anywhere in the entire world, and that was definitely her, on the floor. But as he got closer, he noticed her glassy eyes, her open mouth, and the black substance sliding from her nose, drying onto her top lip.

"Renesmee."

He gently placed his hands on her shoulders. She was cold and stiff.

"Renesmee."

He leaned in to hear her breathing, and he pressed his fingers to her wrist to feel her pulse. He got nothing. Nothing. He didn't move a muscle, didn't make a sound.

He held his lifeless daughter's cold, frigid hand against his beating heart, waiting for the rest of the Cullens to return home.

Edward didn't want Bella to see their daughter like this, but when Bella came back to Forks with the rest of the Cullens that night, she demanded to see her. Bella had let him wrap his arms around her at the front door of the main house for seven seconds before she threatened to become violent and pry him off her body.

Bella hurried to the infirmary, and Edward followed behind as fast as he could, telling her she didn't need to see Renesmee like this. Bella didn't listen; all she could do was run. The rest of the family followed Edward and Bella in silence, except for Alice's constant muttering of the single word no. She hadn't seen anything like this coming.

Bella swung open the door to the infirmary and stumbled back as soon as she realized that the unconscious girl on the floor really was Renesmee. Alice held Bella by the shoulders as Jasper, Carlisle, and Esme went to the corpse. All Bella could do was shake her head from side to side, staring at Renesmee, repeating the word no just as Alice had. Edward held Bella again, telling her he was sorry he had to see their daughter like this, and that he never wanted her to see her like this.

As Carlisle examined Renesmee's corpse, he recognized the purple fluid that had been leaking from her veins.

"She took the remedy," he murmured.

That was when Bella lost it.

She quickly turned to Edward with wild gold eyes and clenched fists, and he jumped back, crashing into the wall. She lurched forward, but Alice held her back.

"You let this happen?!" Bella roared at Edward, who cowered in the corner, his arms up in a weak attempt of self-defense..

"Of course not!" he exclaimed.

"What happened, then?" Bella demanded, her voice only fifty times stronger than his.

"Yeah, Edward," Alice said. "What the hell happened?"

Carlisle, Esme, and Jasper looked to Edward. Jasper did nothing to influence the mood of the room. It wouldn't work, anyway.

"I found her like this," Edward said. "I came home, didn't find her in the cottage, and came here. I found her right there on the floor. She was already gone."

"She's gone," Bella whispered, realizing the permanence of the situation. "My baby is gone."

Edward didn't bat an eyelash. If he were to cry, Bella would hate him even more than she already did.

"Did she ever express a desire to be human?" Carlisle asked.

"No," Edward said. "Never."

"It doesn't matter," Bella said. "It doesn't matter how or why it happened, Carlisle. My daughter is fucking dead."

Edward had nothing left to say. Bella's daughter was gone, and there was nothing he could say that would rectify their situation.

A/N: Two chapters left. I'm ready to wrap this up. It's been a fun time.

Thanks,

HS