The killer that took the so undeserved name of baby lifted his head from Rosalie's shoulder and looked at me.
It only fueled my anger to kill it. How could it look at anybody that way, after doing what it had to its mother? Its guiltless eyes stared back at me, the same color as Bella's were. Had been. How dare it take her most beautiful feature and wear it so vainly! It had no shame. Sam was right - all along, it had been nothing but an abomination, and he had been the only one whose eyes were not blinded enough to see it.
The past few days came back to me in a wash of memories - the bruises, the ribs, the blood, the removal scene so fresh in my mind. And it could sit there, sucking on more blood, so calmly! And the blonde bloodsucking leech encouraging it?
As the hate, stronger than I had ever known it, coursed through my body, the plan formed itself in my mind. The part that had been strategizing with Sam for many years now already knew what I was going to do - it had been planning this since I had first realized how long we all were. It first, the cold-hearted assassin, Renesmee - even thinking then name made the hate blaze stronger. A thing like that didn't deserve a name.
Then it would be Rosalie - for encouraging the insanity Bella had started, and also because she would be literally insane with her anger. Though the vengeful part of my mind whispered that maybe I should wait, give her a little time to grieve for It, before killing her. But if I didn't attack her immediately, she would obviously attack me.
That would cause a loud enough noise to send everybody else running. Maybe not Edward, though, if he was still convinced Bella was alive. An earthquake could split the middle of the house clean through and he would still be up there, beating Bella's heart for her, if he thought she might still make it.
That would be the hardest part of the plan, once Rosalie and the thing was dead - it would now be five against one, three of them strong fighters - six if Edward came down. I would probably only have time to take down one. Plus the element of surprise would be gone.
But it wouldn't matter how many I took down - unless I took down them all and could burn the pieces, they would only put themselves back together.
There seemed to be nothing for it - maybe it would be better with his whole family alive - there would be more people to stop him from committing suicide, which meant more time for him to suffer. I knew that in the end, he would succeed. The thought made me glad. Suffering, and then death. Just what he deserved.
I embraced the anger now, pushed it toward my vibrating limbs that would explode any second now. I crouched, my muscles coiling into a spring.
I tore through the air, exploding as I did so. I felt my clothes fly out in shreds - no matter. I wouldn't need them again.
Rosalie heard the explosion and tried to ready herself to meet me, but - even though she was faster than I was, I had the momentum - she was too late, and I had It in my arms.
I prepared to kill it. It would be quick, not because I thought it deserved a quick death, but because I knew I had only moments before Rosalie would be upon me, followed by the rest of the Cullens.
I heard Rosalie scream, a long, loud shriek. It sent chills up my spine, not because it scared me, but it was a scream of utter despair. She saw what I would do, knew that she would be too late. Only a half-second later, the scream choked off, and now I could practically feel the mindless, controlling, lethal fury emanating from her.
The scream would have stopped me, at least for a split second, because it cooled the anger a little, gave me a little insight into how much pain I would soon be causing. It showed me for an instant how heartless, how cruel I was being, how hideous the thoughts I had just been thinking were. I knew the millisecond I was about to hesitate would have been all it took for Rosalie to tear me limb from limb.
As I hesitated, I glanced down into It's beautiful warm eyes, and suddenly my ire was back, stronger than before. Just as the old man's eyes fueled the narrator's desire to kill him in Poe's short story, so would the eyes be the final straw in this child's life.
I tried to kill it then, quickly, but I realized too late that its skin was too hard, not soft and firm like most babies, but granite. This wouldn't have stopped me, but unfortunately, that extra millisecond where I had to readjust my hand would cost me my life.
This conclusion was only further proved as I felt Rosalie's body slam into mine, and I knew I would die. The thing was knocked from my paws, and fell to the ground. Rosalie sent a glance toward it, all while both of us were falling gracefully toward the ground where she would finish me off, and for a moment her hold loosened, as she watched It drop. She would let me go, I realized, to catch the thing, even though it meant she would die. While we were still falling, though, she seemed to realize that It would be fine, and turned her attention back toward me, a feral snarl ripping from her throat.
Her hold, unfortunately, hadn't loosened enough for me to break free, and as I hit the ground, the last thing I saw were her anger-crazed, odious eyes, nearly red with bloodlust, as her head shot forward to slice my throat.
I closed my eyes and waited for death, all the anger suddenly draining away and leaving only cold fear. Would it hurt? Undoubtedly.
Then, still waiting for the blow to come, I was suddenly afraid for my pack as well. I had attacked the Cullens. What would that mean? The treaty was broken now. Would the Cullens attack, or would my choice kill everyone else as much as myself? What had I done? Guilt surged through me, replacing the fear, but I knew it was belated. Nothing could save me now.
All these thoughts took place in a millisecond; still, Rosalie's teeth were at my throat. Then a sudden, urgent voice called out, "Wait," and Rosalie's teeth halted, half a millimeter away.