The Girl Who Was Taken (Renesme Cullens Twin Sister)

Fifty-Nine

We could only stay in the woods so long. Although I think that we stayed there longer than we would have simply because of Jasper's emotional manipulation. He made the sense of impending doom and world ending apocalyptic news bearable for a good chunk of time.

It was almost horrific as I think back on it, but I remember listening to that crank radio, sitting by the fire with my marshmallow stick hanging over the flames, leaning back against Renesme's leg. She was sat on a long tree trunk that Edward had pulled down and fashioned into a sitting area in the middle of the tents. "This used to be Emmett's job," he had said solemnly. And when the news reporter announced that the USA had blown up Italy, and the world as we knew it was over, I felt a strange sense of calm come over me.

I felt peaceful and content, and I just wanted to sit there, leaning back on Renesme, and let the world around me move. The moss and grass could have me for all I cared, the world was on fire, and everything was okay. Really. And I vaguely wondered why no one was screaming in pain yet, and I thought maybe it was because we had already done it, or perhaps it hadn't fully hit us. Then I looked over at Jasper, and he looked as if he were in pain, but very focused. And that's when I knew the calm aura around our entire camp site was completely artificial.

And then my marshmallow caught fire. I pulled it out quickly on instinct, regardless of my inability to be worried of the fire. I blew away the bright flames, and the marshmallow was bubbly black. Gingerly, I pressed it to the graham cracker with the chunk of chocolate that was balanced on my leg and pressed another cracker over it to pull it off. Then I offered it above my head to Renesme.

"I don't want it," she said again. She had already told me not to make one for her, but I had gone ahead and did it anyways.

"You need to eat something," I told her, and added in a matter of fact voice, "And this is the most delicious thing in the whole entire world."

And perhaps it was the calming aura we were stuck in, but instead of brushing this off like she had done every other time with a "I'm not hungry," she instead said, "I don't think I could ever eat human food again." And I wasn't any more concerned about this than I was about learning that Italy had been blown up, and I wondered if maybe they didn't hold the same weight, but because of the emotional manipulation, they both seemed equally unconcerning.

It's not like I hadn't noticed her lack of appetite these last few months, and it's not like no one had commented on the weight loss she was experiencing. Being identical twins and all, it was very easy to tell us apart now with how skinny she had become. Her collarbone was much more pronounced, and her knees and elbows were pointier. She had sleek cheek bones whereas my cheeks looked plump. Her stomach was always flat, concave even, which compared next to mine, I always looked like I was pregnant because I could never stop eating. At some point over the summer, Paul started a joke where he'd pat my stomach and congratulate me on my food baby. If he ever did it around Renesme, she'd roll her eyes and leave the room. Even her neck appeared slimmer, like the photoshopped models in fashion magazines.

Two days ago, Edward had commented on it, "You lost a lot of weight since last time I saw you." She took offense at this and walked away from him. And he looked after her, very worried, staring at the back of her head as if he could see her brain and thoughts running through, looking, searching for what he could do to help her.

But now she had said it out loud. Her and human food were no longer compatible. I held the sticky graham cracker in my hands, too aware of how stuffed my stomach was with the three other smore sandwiches I had eaten. But there was no one else here to eat it, Paul and Jacob had yet to show up. And I knew Renesme told Jacob not to come, and I only knew because she had told me the other day when we were off exploring a creek on our own, but when I asked why, she wouldn't tell me. "Just because," she said.