Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight series. All rights belong to Stephanie Meyer.
Warning: This story contains references to non-graphic rape.
Vicious
She was provoking him. She knew this. It was the same every time. Nothing won, nothing lost. But she couldn't help it.
"What is wrong with you? This little fascination of yours will be the ruin of all of us!"
"Calm down, Rosalie," He turned away from her, attempting to put distance between them. Nothing good would come of another argument.
Her words made him weary. But that was all. They made no impression upon him, had no lasting affect. He brushed them off. It was as if she had never spoken; and that just made it worse.
"Don't you dare turn your back to me, Edward!" She grabbed his arm firmly as she spoke. Her strength had little affect on him, but he halted his movements none the less. He wrenched his arm from her grip, turning to face her.
"We've been through this. How many more times must I repeat myself? What exactly are you failing to understand?" His exasperation was typical. It was his reaction to everything she said these days.
"How can you stand there and speak to me this way, so secure in your own selfishness?"
"Ha! You're one to talk about selfishness. You are the most vain, selfish, spoiled little brat to set foot on this Earth! You know this as well as I do, Rosalie,"
His animosity surprised her. She had always been the one to shout at him, to insult him, and he bore it silently. As he should. After all, he was entirely to blame for the entire situation. His anger was as invigorating as it was frightening.
"I tried to deny my feelings, and I almost succeeded, too. I can only thank whatever God exists in this world that I failed. I regret nothing more than I do leaving Bella. Have you not seen what our separation has done to her? How can you possibly be so cold-hearted? You who have found your happy ending, how can you be so violently averse to others finding their own?"
His attempts to placate her were very sorry indeed. His attempts at shaming her, though, were even more pitiful.
"Yes, I have found my own twisted version of a fairytale. But it came at a price, a cost higher than I had ever wished to pay. Do not preach to me, Edward. Your words mean nothing. You may tell yourself what you please, but you will never truly care for this plain human you profess to love with so much zeal. She is merely a mortal, this asinine attraction will pass, as do all things so unbearably mundane," She spoke calmly, her assuredness infuriating.
The words were harsh, but she knew that he had heard them before, whether in her thoughts, or in her words. For this reason, she was somewhat surprised to see a scowl twist his features, and a furious glint alight his dark bullion eyes.
"Do not speak of my 'attraction' as if you have any idea what the word means! I hear what goes on in your mind, your arrogance and vanity feeding the notion that desirability is completely physical. That's all you would know, I suppose, considering that your alleged beauty is the only part of you warranting any attention!" His tone was cutting. He reminded her of a deadly serpent, striking with precision, and aiming to kill.
Her nostrils flared, and her eyes flashed dangerously. He was simultaneously stoking the raging fire that was her anger and feeding her insecurities. She may have lost a lot of things during her distinctly painful life, but her pride had stood the test of time. She would rather die than show weakness, especially in front of him. She opened her mouth to deliver an ultimatum, but he beat her to it.
"Do not forsake another's happiness simply to pave the way for your petty jealousy. Being a mind reader is not simply a meaningless title, you know," His tone became light, but she could detect the coy, mocking undertone.
"Do not flatter yourself. That issue was fleeting, and you know that. But it does make one wonder, how could your little human possibly compare with me? I am far more beautiful. Don't pretend it isn't true," She was blunt. There was no way he could contest her logic.
It was the only thing she could possibly do to salvage the situation, to use her clear advantage against him. The spark of irritation she saw flare in his eyes was vindication enough, but her victory was short lived.
"How could you possibly wonder such a thing, Rosalie? I should think the differences between you and Bella are quite clear. She is sweet, innocent, kind, and utterly pure. Simply put, everything you aren't," His tone was scornful; he knew he had won.
Pure. The word reverberated in her head. It seemed to echo through her skull, mocking her with its presence. Unbidden, her mind flashed to that night in Rochester. The night she had lost her purity, her chastity, her dignity, everything that mattered. Everything except her beauty, and for that exact reason, her angelic beauty was irrevocably cursed.
Fear. Deep, loud voices. Mocking her.
She tried to stop the flashes of memory, she tried to wipe them away, but they wouldn't budge. They stuck in her mind, like thick, black bubbles of tar. Hot and sticky, trapping her beneath it's ever increasing volume.
Panic. Large, rough hands. Touching her. Everywhere.
Everything around her faded in to nothingness. She could no longer hear the chirping of the birds, or the rushing of the river that lay on the edge of the forest near their home. She couldn't see the dust motes illuminated by sparse rays of sun, or the little, individual nicks in the intricate woodwork. There was nothing. Nothing but her, and them, the monsters that lurked in her mind, even though they were all long dead. She had seen to that.
Pain. A heavy body forces itself on her. The asphalt burns as she's pressed in to it. It hurts. It hurts so much.
Over fifty years, this memory still plagued her. It made her skin crawl. It made her hands shake. She wanted to cry; she only wished she still could. She was immortal. Diamond-hard, faster than a speeding bullet, she was a dangerous predator. But they still hunted her. They still stalked her. She would never be safe. Not from them.
Cold. It's so cold as she lies here in the dark. Even her blood feels cold. So cold. So very cold. She will never be warm again.
A tearless, strangled sob escaped her throat.
Dirty. She can feel their hands on her. Hands that are no longer there. Everything is ruined, everything taken. She is so unclean, so polluted. There is nothing left.
"Damn it, Rose!" Edward's sharp voice was startlingly close.
She stumbled backwards a few steps. She felt off balance; no longer in control. Was it possible for a vampire's knees to buckle? Was it possible for her hard, frozen body to erupt in a cold sweat? She knew she had no heart, that the stone-cold thing in her chest beat no longer. But she could feel it. She could feel it.
His expression was pained. His brow was furrowed, the corners of his mouth turned down.
"I'm sorry," His tone was halting, tentative.
What did he have to apologize for? Nothing. It was always her that caused the problems. She was the one who started the fights. He had merely made a point. Voiced something that was true. Something they all knew.
Pure. She's everything you aren't. Pure. Pure. Pure.
"Stop it, Rosalie!" He was angry. Desperate.
"Stop what?" Her voice was choked, so unlike her usually haughty tone.
Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. Another sob. Another hitching, heaving breath. He ran a hand through his hair, dragging his nails down the side of his face. His breathing was deep, almost as laboured as hers.
"Do you actually believe me so cruel? You think it doesn't kill me every time I see what you went through? I want to kill them all over again. I want to lift them from the clutches of death only so that I may murder them viciously with no remorse," His tone was heated; yet his voice was furiously calm. His pale hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides. So angry.
She felt herself soften as she heard the conviction in his words. She knew, somewhere within, that he loved her. They all did. But the many unsavoury things this life held easily overshadowed it. The simple truths were often forgotten, swept away. She reached a hand out, placing it on his arm. It was a calming, comforting gesture.
"I know, Edward. I know. I have never doubted that you care for me, even in our darkest hours. But it does not change the truth of your words. It does not remedy the fact that I am broken. I am tainted by their deeds. I am innocent no longer," Her voice broke in a hitching sob. "I will never be pure,"
Her hand on his arm on his hand began to shake ever so slightly. She couldn't help it. Everything was shaking. Everything was crumbling to the ground.
He caught her before she could fall. Wrapping his arms tightly around her, he buried his face in her hair. She clutched frantically at his chest, trying to find something to hold on to, anything to keep her from plummeting.
"It doesn't matter, Rose. None of it matters," His voice was soft and comforting. She felt the words wrap around her, warming her within his cold embrace.
She had almost expected him to lie to her, to tell her that she really was pure, that she was beautifully untainted. She was glad he hadn't. They both knew that she was dirtied, that she was polluted by the darkness that had been forced upon her that fateful night. Her soul, mind, and body, all broken and sullied. It would always be that way, no matter what.
It hurt. The feeling of utter corruption was horrible, the unworthiness paralyzing, but it was a part of her now. That would never change. No amount of kind words and gentle caresses could possibly win back all that was lost that night.
Rosalie Hale wasn't perfect. Not anymore. For the first time, that fact didn't make her want to tear out her silken hair and gouge harsh lines of red down her beatific face.
Because here, wrapped in Edward's arms, she felt accepted for who she was, not how perfect she was supposed to be.
They would continue to stalk her, hound her; they would never cease their hunt. This she knew.
She would never surrender.
FIN