When I woke, I was lying on Renesmee's bed. I felt giddy, and everything seemed strange and swam in and out  of my vision. I heard paniced worried voices drifting up the stairs. I giggled. Why were they so worried? I started to laugh. What were they worrying about? It was so hilarious that I couldn't help but throw back my head and laugh, continuously, even when Edward ran upstairs asking me what was wrong.

"You're… all… WORRIED!" I gasped, laughing hysterically.

Edward's brow knitted and he said "Yes. Because our daughter is missing."

I laughed at his hilarious comment. "She's… Missing… HAHAHA! It's so funny!" I couldn't stop laughing; why was this so hilarious?

I laughed so hard that I fell off the bed, and the sudden movement dragged me back into silent unconsciousness. I remembered then, something I'd thought when I was human. It was one of the clearest things there, though it had been shoved to the back of my brain, laying in wait for an opportunity such as this: Death is peaceful. Life is harder. And I knew it was right. Death is peaceful. Life is harder. But life means more. In death, there isn't an Edward to be with every day, there isn't a Renesmee to watch over and care for. There isn't a dad to chat with, or a mom to annoy me. There's no Carlisle hanging around for me to ask questions to, or an Esme to cook my daughter dinner. There will be no Alice helping out, or a Jasper keeping me calm; no playful Emmett or beautiful Rosalie to make me laugh. No Jacob to mess about with, and no home to go to. Some people would take death; a dreamy nothing were there is no pain or unhappiness. But I would take life, Edward, Renesmee, my family, my home, my best friend – and maybe that's what kept me alive over those long weeks of unconsciousness. Half dead, half alive, debating in my head which was the best path to take.

Maybe that's why Alice couldn't see my future, me dead or alive. Or maybe someone she couldn't see decided to interfere.