Renesmee's Pov

I groan as I shift my weight on the stiff hospital bed, the thin sheets tangling around my legs. A sharp hiss escapes my lips when a fresh bolt of pain lances through my skull, a constant, throbbing reminder of the accident.

It's a good thing my insurance covered the bill, because the idea of getting kicked out of a hospital for not paying wasn't one of the things I had on my bucket list. Not even close. It would have been the perfect, miserable cherry on top of this whole disaster.

I've been stuck in this sterile white room for about three weeks now, slowly healing from the collection of wounds the crash left behind. The cuts are closing, the bruises are fading from deep purple to a sickly yellow, but the rest of it... that feels like it's getting worse.

I lied to my family, telling them I was just laying low at a hotel, hiding from the media circus until the whole thing with Dalton became old news. I promised them it would blow over soon. I'm still waiting for that to happen, but the headlines haven't slowed down.

In a weird, twisted way, I found this hospital stay almost like a small, forced vacation. No work emails piling up, no social media notifications screaming at me, no strangers on the street shouting my name.

Someone, for reasons I can't understand, even paid for me to be upgraded to this private ward, though they insisted on staying anonymous. I stopped trying to figure out who it was after the first week. It didn't matter. Nothing really did.

The nurse finished adjusting my IV drip for the day, the liquid cold as it entered my vein. She gave me a hopeful, pitying smile that I've grown to hate.

"When do I get discharged?" I ask, clearing my throat. My voice still sounds rough, unused.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed that the news station playing on the wall-mounted TV had switched to a new segment. I didn't really give it much attention. It was all just noise.

"Probably in three or four days," the nurse says, her tone cheerful. "Your vitals are pretty stable now and-"

"Curse you, Dalton! Curse you!!"

The loud, raw scream from the television yanked my attention away from her. My entire body froze solid. I saw her. I saw my mother on the screen, her face contorted with a rage I'd never seen before.

Kyra was right behind her, trying to hold her back, but my mother shoved past her grip with a strength I didn't know she had. She pushed one of Dalton's bodyguards aside and then she was on him, smacking him hard across the face with her purse over and over.

"Rennie loved you! How could you do that to her?" She screams, each word a shriek of pure anguish, each hit punctuating her fury as Dalton covered his face, cowering from her.

"You haven't seen that?" The nurse questions, her voice pulling my attention for a mere second. She was staring at the screen with a look of mild interest. "I think it's one of the relatives of that girl who tried to abuse Dalton Kentucky. She attacked him a few weeks back and he just won the case in civil court. The woman is ordered to pay 15 million dollars in damages. Good for them, getting justice."

The next news segment confirmed her statement, a slick-haired anchor repeating the verdict. My whole body went numb. The world tilted. I didn't think.

I just moved. I swung my legs off the bed and stood up, my body screaming in protest. I yank the IV needle from my arm, a small bead of blood welling up. I ignore the nurse's shocked cry and the other healthcare workers who tried to grab me as I stumble toward the closet with my clothes.

I get dressed in a daze, my fingers fumbling with the buttons as I run out of the hospital, my bare feet slapping against the cold linoleum until I hit the pavement outside. I hail a cab, my voice a broken whisper as I give the driver my address. The whole ride was a blur.

Kyra was in the kitchen when I arrived, her back to me. I stood in the doorway, breathing heavily. Half of the house was empty. The television was gone. The refrigerator was gone. Even our living room furniture was missing, like they were in the middle of moving out or selling everything off.

"Tell me it isn't true.." my voice is broken, coming out in ragged gasps.

She spins around, her eyes wide with shock. "I thought you were at the hospital, Hazel.. I-"

"Tell me!" I yell.

Her lips quiver like she was fighting back a wave of tears. "I tried, Rennie. I don't know, the lawyer did his best but they found her liable and-"

I didn't let her finish. I turn and dash out of the house, the empty spaces screaming at me. I start running down the street, my lungs burning, until I found another taxi. My destination was the stadium, where he usually practices.

I follow the back of the massive building, ignoring the shouts of security calling after me, and head straight for the locker room, pushing the door open.

He was there, alone, changing his stakes. A soft, content smile was on his lips, like he didn't have a care in the world. The place was empty but I knew someone could be hiding, recording. I didn't care.

When he looked up, he met my gaze. His eyes widened in genuine surprise upon contact. "Rennie."

I shove at his chest with all my weakened strength, tears brimming in my eyes. "What did I ever do to you? Haven't you done enough, you f-ckhead!" I curse.

He grabs my wrist tightly, his grip like a vice, restraining me as his eyes burned into me. "What is wrong with you?"

"You're nothing but a monster," I seethe, the tears now streaming down my face. "You fuck me, you break up with me, you slander me on television, you cause me to lose my job and now this? You want me to pay you 15 million dollars?"

"Your mother f-cking attacked me," he scoffs, his voice low and dangerous.

"And you know why.." I sob, yanking my wrist from his grip but he only held on tighter, his fingers digging into my skin. "What did I ever do to you? Just tell me!"

"Nothing, Rennie." He grins then, a cold, cruel twist of his lips before leaning closer, his mouth against my ear. "When you throw something away, you have to make sure it lands right in the garbage can. I can't have you coming out in the future to start a scandal. Who knows, maybe you'd try to fake a pregnancy? You're lucky you're not even dead, Rennie. Do yourself a favor, pay me my money and disappear."