Be Careful What You Wish For

Chapter Eight

1 After everything was decided, Bella went upstairs to take a look at her sleeping daughter. This was, curiously enough, the first time since she'd turned that she walked from A to B without someone telling her to go there (this morning's panic attack didn't count). Of course, this was the first day she'd actually done anything on her own (and what a day it had been!). Still, they didn't just let her prance around unsupervised – well, Jasper didn't. Even though she knew that being followed around all the time would soon get old, Bella was actually glad of it. After what she'd done this morning, there was no leaving her alone. She'd dismissed the hardships of being a new-born when she'd still been human. Worse than that, she'd just accepted the fact that she'd probably end up murdering innocent human beings on her road to becoming a mature, 'vegetarian' vampire.

That was despicable, to say the least.

Hadn't she had any conscience? Had she been that blinded by the sparkly glamour of vampirism?

The answer was unpleasant, but simple: yes. Yes, she had been. She'd wanted youth and wealth and eternal life. She'd wanted to dazzle lowly humans with her supernatural beauty. She'd wanted to lord her speed and strength and power over everyone.

Now, she was trapped in this foreign body that could only function properly if it fed on the living blood of human beings. She was a parasite. There was no other word that could describe the nature of her existence more properly. That was what she was. That was the price she had been willing to pay when she'd still been a human, a part of nature.

Gingerly, she stepped into the room Renesmee's quick, feathery heartbeat came from. It was Rosalie and Emmett's bedroom. Just like Edward's, it was pretty richly furnished, sporting a truly huge bed, a commode, shelves with DVDs and CDs on them, loads of framed pictures and some pretty old-looking jewellery boxes. Renesmee's small and slender frame almost got lost in that monster of a bed. Next to her, Rosalie sat, frozen like a statue, watching the little girl sleep. Rosalie didn't blink, didn't move, didn't breathe; she just sat there, perfectly still, watching. She had that enchanted, fascinated look on her face that just seemed so out of place, because it simply didn't fit in with what Bella knew of Rosalie's personality.

Hey, she remembered! Three months of confusion seemed all but wiped away, and Bella could recall more and more of what she'd lived through and who she'd been. True, it still felt like reading someone else's biography, but it was better than nothing. It had to be the human blood – it just had to. Would this wear off once the blood started working its way out of her system? She'd have to ask Jasper about it. He'd know. He'd be the only one to actually talk candidly about any of this, too. He, at least, understood.

"Rosalie," Bella said lowly, softly, not wanting to startle anyone.

"You can speak normally," Rosalie said, not taking her eyes off the child. She reached out and gently caressed Renesmee's rich brown curls. "She won't wake. She needs her rest, which is why I always watch over her at night. No-one must be allowed to pose a risk to my perfect little angel."

Having to force herself to move, Bella slowly walked to the bed's side and looked down at her child. The girl looked so sweet, so innocent, sleeping like this. Yes, it was a cliché, but that didn't make it any less true. There were so many questions her mere existence raised, though, apparent innocence or not. Was Renesmee even a child? Was this a clueless little girl, or did she know exactly what was happening? Irina had told Bella that Renesmee had an adult mind, that she'd been born with it. She'd also told Bella that Jacob had imprinted on Renesmee, and that therefore, he could not be trusted to do the right thing at all.