Renesmee's POV:

Today I had the strange urge to call Aunt Rosalie something different. 'Aunt . . .' what did that word mean?!

I walked into the living room of our cabin. The house was empty; my parents must have gone on one of those couple retreats again. They preferred the nude beaches.

I fixed myself breakfast. It was gazelle blood drizzled over French toast. Yum-o!

I walked over to Grandpa and Grandma's house. Aunt Rosalie greeted me at the door. "Good morning light that shines on my world!" she said.

"Mornin Aunt . . ." I trailed off, thinking of the consequences of using this new word.

"Go on, say my name, go on," she encouraged.

I tried again "Aunt . . ."

"YOU DEVIL CHILD, SAY MY NAME!" she screamed.

"Fine. Aunt Hoho."

Her jaw dropped open. "What did you call me, punk?"

"Aunt Hoho," I repeated.

"OMGIZZ!" she howled. "EMMETT COME HITHER!"

Uncle Emmett appeared at her side. Rosalie whispered something into his ear, and he gasped like a gay man.

Uncle Emmett examined me for a second. "It's a fat joke!" he exclaimed.

"OHMIGAWD!" she screamed. "I AM NOT FAT! ONLY PHAT!"

I was confused. Why did I even want to call her that?

Aunt Rosalie exhaled. "At least she didn't mean I've been with lots of men."

Uncle Emmett glared at his wife.

"I HAVEN'T!" Aunt Rosalie screamed.

His eyes widened. "It was Mike, wasn't it?!" He ran off before he could get an answer.

Aunt Rosalie turned to me. "Why did you call me that?" she demanded.

"Idk my bff Jill!" I said.

Her eyes widened as if she had just realized something. She ran upstairs and left me alone in the house. I walked into the kitchen. I didn't even know why they had a kitchen. I walked into the pantry – it was full of human food, why? I found a bottle of mustard. I felt a new urge that didn't feel as if it was controlled by me. I opened the bottle and sprayed the mustard onto the wall. After the bottle was empty, I admired my handiwork. Spelled out in mustard on the wall was written: Aunt Hoho Newton.

Aunt Rosalie came downstairs with Uncle Jasper held above her head. When she saw my condiment graffiti, she threw him on the ground. "WHY DO YOU KEEP MAKING HER FEEL LIKE SHE WANTS TO CALL ME THAT!?" she screamed at him.

He shrugged. "I don't know."

She picked him up again. I followed them out to the backyard. She pulled a long string of rope out her pants. With Jasper in one hand and the rope in another she tied the rope around a tree. The rope had a loop at the very end. She thrust Uncle Jasper's neck into the loop and tightened it. She turned around as she walked away. "Hang tight," she said. That was a bad pun.

I returned to my parent's house that night. They had returned home from their retreat. I walked through the door to find the living room empty. I probably should have knocked on their bedroom door but I was too naïve to want to. I threw open the door. My parents' heads we're just visible under the covers that were moving rapidly up and down. I quickly ran out and slammed the door behind me. "Welcome home!" I called as I ran to my room.

I couldn't fall asleep that night. There was a soft singing coming from outside. I ran to my window and opened it up. I looked to my left to find my mother leaning out her bedroom window. She looked like she was wearing a man tank top. They must have been from the time when my dad thought he was gay . . . that was before he met mommy.

The singing continued . . . "You change your mind like a girl changes clothes. Awww you PMS like a bitch, I would know . . . . You're hot and you're cold, you're yes and you're no. You're in and you're out, you're up and you're down –"

"SHUT UP JASPER!" my mom screamed. Then, she turned back in my direction.

"Hi Sweetie!" she said.

I glared at her man tank top. She sighed and closed her window. Several minutes later the sound of breaking glass continued. I soon fell asleep to my routine lullaby.