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Tragedy of a Rose

Would you like to hear my story? It doesn't have a happy ending-but which of ours does? If we had happy endings, we'd all be under gravestones right now.

I lived in a different world than you do. My human world was a much simpler place. It was nineteen thirty-three. I was eighteen, and I was beautiful. My life was perfect….

Teddy McKenzie

"I wonder what he's so scared of," I said aloud. After all, what would make a man that was fearless into one so fearful that he would hire two guards-and then promptly lock every door and window to the room he was in.

"I wouldn't question it," Ralph Peterson said, stroking his mustache. "He's paying us a little too well."

"You don't wonder?" I asked, looking at him. Ralph was tall, taller than me, with some serious muscle. "Do you wonder if it has to do with Ms. Hale?"

"I wonder all the time," he confessed, shaking his closely shaved head. "i just know better than to question."

"Yeah, but when a man-" Ralph glared at me, and I promptly shut my mouth.

Rosalie Hale had been Royce King's fiance-until her sudden death. She had been the most beautiful girl around, and now she was gone. My own daughter-Georgia-though only five, had labeled it "the Tragedy of the Rose"-saying that Ms. Hale had been as beautiful as a rose, and her death was so 'tragical'.

We stood in silence for a bit. Ralph was a quiet guy, and I'd never worked with him before. I had assumed he took some time to warm up to people-but know I knew he was always quiet. And I mean always.

"How's the kids?" I asked, unlike him, not able to keep quiet for more than a minute.

"Fine," he grunted.

"And the wife?" I asked.

"Great."

We were quiet for a while.

"Thanks," I told him.

"For what?" he didn't seem shocked-but he never did at anything.

"For your wife-watching Georgia, I mean," I had offered to pay her for watching my daughter, but she had merely said it was an honor and not to worry about it.

"Thank my wife, not me," Ralph said bluntly.

Georgia was the light of my world. She had raven hair-like her mother-with my bright blue eyes. She was only five years old, and already motherless.

My wife, Catherine, had died last year giving birth to our still-born daughter Faith. Now all I had was Georgia-and all she had was me.

"Hello?" I looked at at Ralph, why was he talking? But I followed the direction of hi head-

And completely lost my thoughts. There, in front of us, was the most beautiful woman in the world. She had golden hair that was worn fashionably, with red eyes, and pale skin. As pale as death.

She wore a white wedding gown-complete with veil; and I realized who she was.

But it was impossible-Rosalie Hale was dead. She couldn't be here.

She reached behind Ralph's neck, then reached behind mine. I was terrified-but completely captivated by her beauty.

Georgia, my beautiful baby girl, my little rose, rose into my thoughts, before she twisted her wrists suddenly-

-and I didn't think anymore.

Rosalie Hale

"Ms. Hale?"

Emmett and I looked up to see an elderly woman walking towards us.

"Know her?" Emmett whispered in my ear.

"No," I whispered back, before turning to the woman. "I'm sorry, but I'm not Ms. Hale."

"Oh my," she looked shocked, but then smiled sweetly at us. "I'm afraid you look just like her miss."

"Like this Ms Hale?" Emmett asked. "Were you friends with her?"

"Oh, Lord no," the mysterious elder woman laughed, and I felt a pang of envy. She had had a full life. A human life. "I was only five when she died."

"You met her then?" I couldn't help but be curious. This woman had met me-and remembered me-from when she was five?

"No," she shook her head. "But I saw her-it was like seeing an angel-or a living rose."

The woman was lost in her thoughts for a moment.

"Come, come, hear the story," she went and sat on a park bench, Emmett and I followed her.

Jasper and Alice walked up-but the woman never noticed. They gave us odd looks, but we shrugged helplessly.

"Now, lets see," the woman thought for a moment. "Ah, yes. The year was only 1933-how old I must seem to you! I was only five!-when I first saw Ms Hale."

Alice smiled, and Jasper nodded, understanding what was going on now.

"She was like an angel-or a rose come to life!" she sighed. "How I wished to be as beautiful as Ms Hale! And her life was perfect! She was even engaged to the richest man alive!"

My hands turned into fists. How I hated that man!

I remembered when I had met him, how I wish I never had!

Mother had forgotten to give Father his lunch when he had gone to work-so she sent me. She insisted on my dressing as if I were going to a high-class party. Little did I know that my parent's ambition (they were a pair of social climbers, and my marrying could gain them higher social status) would be the death of me.

My father worked at the bank, he had a steady job so it was as if the depression just didn't exist for us. I had thought my father worked hard-but know I knew it had only been luck-and then my engagement to Royce.

I had taken the lunch there, and turned to leave.

"Stay for a little Rosalie," father said, in a commanding voice. I knew that voice. But I was only too happy to obey.

I sat down across from my father's desk as he worked. I wondered why father was having me stay. But my answer came all too soon.

Little did I know the countdown to the end of my life began then.

"Hale," Royce King walked by my father's desk, patting him on the shoulder. "And Ms Hale! An honor."

He took my hand and kissed it. Royce King was grey-haired with light blue eyes. He was starting to go bald-and get fat. I wanted to snub him-but he was father's boss. Oh, I wish I had. If only to have escaped the future I had been given.

"Hale, have you met my son?" he gestured to a blonde man about my age with the same eyes as his father.

"I believe I haven't," my father shook his hand.

"Ms. Hale, this is Royce King-the second," he gestured to his son proudly.

"How do you do?" I said politely as he in turn kissed my hand.

"Enchanted," he said, not letting go of my hand. He smiled, and I felt my heart turn. I thought it had been simple infatuation, I had been in love with the idea of love, but now I knew it was fear.

"My son will be taking over the bank, I plan to retire soon," my father's boss informed me.

"That is wonderful," I said sincerely as Royce reluctantly let go of my hand.

"Well, come now Roy, we have so much more to go over," Mr King led his son-who kept looking over his shoulder at me-away.

"How do you like his son?" my father asked, returning to his work.

"He is…" I couldn't think of a right word. "A very romantic figure."

"He is at that," my father said looking over at him. "He is at that."

"Ms Hale had everything," the woman sighed. "Then, one day, she vanished! They had a funeral and everything for the poor girl. Poor girl was only eighteen, barley even lived."

I couldn't tell this woman that I was here, in front of her.

"That sounds so sad," I told her.

"Yes," the woman reached into a pocket. "I always keep this letter you see, I was going to bury it with Ms Hale-but her parents shut me out! I was only five, I didn't know better."

She held out the wrinkled paper, and I took it.

"What is it?" I asked.

"A letter, I had asked my daddy if I could bury it with Ms Hale-and if Ms Hale would see mommy in heaven-and could she give it to her?"

I felt a flash of anger towards my parents. How could they be so cruel to a five year old child?

"That's so sweet," Alice smiled at the lady.

"Why thank you child, thank you," she smiled warmly at Alice.

"Was there more? To the story I mean?" I asked, knowing there was.

"Why, yes," the woman nodded. "Four men were found dead…then my daddy was hired to guard Mr King."

"He was?" I was slightly shocked. "For how long?"

She shook her head sadly. "I went to his partner's wife when he was at work. Then one day he didn't come back to pick me up. Now I know that he, his partner, and Mr King were all killed."

A tear rolled down her cheek, and I felt a pang of regret. I had taken a father away from a motherless child.

"How did they die?" Jasper asked. "If you don't mind saying."

"A southern lad!" she smiled. "I once had a beau that was southern. But no, I don't mind saying. They were murdered. How he got to King though," she shook her head, "is a mystery. He had locked every door!"

I stepped over their bodies, thinking about their deaths for only a moment. Not knowing I would regret their deaths later. That I would regret them now.

I had been so careful not to break the skin-not to let blood escape their bodies. One was tall, and the other had some serious muscle. So Royce knew I was coming. It was almost pathetic, he wasn't trying to stay alive hard enough. If only he knew.

I twisted the knob on the door to his office, careful not to use my new-found strength; only to find it locked.

Unfortunately for Royce, that couldn't stop me.

I grabbed both the knobs to the French doors, turned, and pushed them in. I spared no time and walked in.

I stopped in front of Royce's desk, as he looked at me with fear etched on his face and in his light blue eyes.

I remembered looking at Royce, who was no longer a romantic figure. Now he was a cowering, selfish, slime ball of a man. No, not even that, he didn't deserve to be called a man, he was a monster.

Now I saw him for who he truly was.

"Rosalie," Royce looked up at me, begging now. "Please, don't-"

I had killed his four friends-they had been easy to kill. Too easy.

I for him, and before Royce could stop me-put my hand on his throat.

Though it was only seconds to him, it was hours to me.

I twisted, as I remembered Carlisle biting me.

I remembered the pain-

-as Royce fell onto his desk, dead.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, though she didn't know that I was the one who had taken her father's life. "What would you say? If you met the killer today?"

I wanted to know. I had to know. Emmett rubbed my back soothingly.

"Well," she thought for a moment. "I would say, I forgive you."

I must have looked surprised.

"Missy," she sighed. "I'm going on ninety-four, the last thing I want on my mind is the man that killed my father."

"But aren't you angry?" I asked.

"Well, I was for a while, but now," she looked at each of us in turn. "life's too short for anger."

I wanted to cry.

"Whats your name?" I asked, as I saw Esme and Edward start walking through the park towards us.

"Georgia," she told me. "Georgia Rosalind McKenzie Grace."

I kissed each of her cheeks. "Thank you Mrs Grace."

"Why, no one's called me that since Frank died!" she seemed genuinely shocked.

"Frank?" Emmett asked.

"My husband," she smiled. "Died two Christmases back."

"Should I have called you something else?" I asked.

"No child," she patted my hand. "Some people think that calling me Mrs Grace will make me upset over Frank's death-but it makes me think of happy times. Back when he was alive."

"Not of his death?" Jasper asked. "Don't you ever get lonely for him?"

"Well of course!" she told us. "But that's life. We always have to move forward-even if we don't want to. So we might as well be happy about the times we've had-and the times we have left."

"I'm really sorry," Alice said as she kissed Mrs Grace's warm cheek. "But it seems we have to leave."

"I always called Ms Hale's story the Tragedy of the Rose," she mused as Emmett and Jasper kissed her cheeks as well.

"Thank you," I told her, wanting to cry and beg for her forgiveness. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Well, would you mind terribly if you saw the letter for my mom buried with me?" she asked.

"Not at all," I kissed her cheek. "Thank you."

"Thank you, dear child, for listening to an old woman's stories," she smiled at me.

I looked back, letter in hand, as we walked away, knowing I left behind a woman who was as happy and content as could be.

Less than a week later, Emmett, Alice, Jasper, Edward, Esme, Carlisle, and I were walking through a room full of people. They all walked by, paying their respects, then they left, leaving me in a room of strange people.

I walked foreword, letter in hand, and gently placed it in Mrs Grace's hands.

"Thank you for your forgiveness," I whispered as I kissed her forehead. As I straitened up, I realized that Mrs Grace had also lived a life of 'tragedy of a rose'.

Dear Mommy,

Daddy says your in heaven write now. He says its a magikal place, and its always spring there.

I miss you and Faith. Daddy says your happy there, but that you miss me, and always wach out four me. He says Faith dos to.

Mrs Peterson waches me wen daddy goes to work. She had tree childs.

Ms Hal disapered the other night. No one nos where she went. Did she go to heavn with you and Faith mommy? Mrs Peterson calls it a tragidy. I told daddy it was tragidy of a rose.

I miss you mommy. Can you kiss God? Well if you can kiss him four me please. Faith too.

Lots and Lots and Lots of Love!

Your Georgia