April 1933, 10:58 pm.
I remember, that day was perfect, Vera had invited me over to muse over her new born son, Henry, I glad accepted – any opportunity to show off my new clothes my farther brought me – whenever I was near children it was I was casting myself in to the future where I to would be surrounded by children of my once and a husband who loves me and told me every time I came home. It just made me more excited to be married to Royce and to get settled down, even thought I had heard rumours of the loveless relationship I was in I ignored them. I was in love with love and I wasn't to drop it because of a childish rumours. My mind wasn't with my when I walked home for Vera's. It was picking baby names for mine and Royce's first born, Vera had told me that I should walk home alone but I wasn't going to sit alone in the same small space as her husband, not after he kissed me. I don't blame him for kissing me but he should have learnt to control himself. "Rose, come over here!" My pleasurable thoughts were broken by my prince charming's voice, my eyes jolted up to see him and his work mates...drunk. When he grabbed my arms to pull me over to his friends my feet didn't move, in the back of my mind I was yelling at myself to run, run back to Vera's but no – my heart wouldn't let me – Royce was my husband and I had to trust me but all trust fell when he forced a rough kiss on me. I could tell he wasn't Royce and I was in danger."You're drunk." I stated, pulling my body away from his. I took the first step back, to start running to Vera's but he pulled me in again and expressed how beautiful I looked. As long as the evening stayed like this, I wouldn't mind, I lived off of complements. But when John, Royce's friend, made the suggestion of taking my clothes off, my heart sank. My eye were widened to John, so many emotions were going through my eyes – fear, rage, shock – When I felt Royce's warm hands on my chest skin and clothes beginning to tear off I knew I had to get out and fast. "Stop...stop it...stop!" They were the only words that escaped my lips as I used all my female strength to push him off. "I'll see you tomorrow, sober". I could in his eyes he didn't like that, being pushed and yelled by a woman in front of his friends, I didn't wasted another second before turning around and began quickly heading back to Vera's, hopefully she would strong hand grasped around my hold body, making me unable to move my arms to fight back. So many words were screaming out of my mouth at this moment but it was like the world didn't hear or didn't care about Rosalie Hale any more. I didn't want to remember the rest but it was the thing that screamed at me every was so much blood and all of it was mine. I had been fighting the word help out of my blood filled mouth for hours now but the world turn its back. Why was I cursed with being beautiful? I'd take it all back now, just to die. I closed my eyes as I gave up and accepted my fate but just as darkness took over, he found me. I felt the warmth of a piece of clothing, a coat, being placed over me as I was picked up. It took a long time and all my strength to open my eyes and by that time I was in a room, one I had never seen before and there he stood, was he an angel, the new doctor Carlisle Cullen. I remember thinking I was saved, someone had found me and took me to the Doctor for him to help me. Oh how I wanted to believe that but his facial expression told me otherwise, as my breath slowed down he knelt down beside me and whispered two words. "Forgive me." He very gently grabbed my arm and brought it to his face, I readied myself as I thought he was going to stop my pain but he didn't. I felt each tooth enter my skin followed by a burning felling, in my veins. A louder scream, once louder than with Royce, escaped my lips and my body jolted and shock uncontrollably as the pain got worse and worse. I begged and pleaded for Carlisle to end the pain- What was happening to me? Why would no one end my suffering? Why did I have to be Rosalie Hale today? Somewhere through all my pain another person had join the doctor his wife, Esme, was now watching my horror. She and Carlisle were yelling, so loudly, 'What have you done Carlisle?' she screamed at him. 'I couldn't leave her to die, not the way she was in' He replied. What were they talking about? What was I turning in to? "Please...kill me." I cried, I wanted to die so badly I would do it myself if I had the strength. Esme joined my side and comforted me like she was my mother, even though I had one seen her once in my short life time. After a short time, but felt like forever to me, their son Edward joined. I remember the first moment I saw Edward, I thought he was an angel...I thought he was my savour. Everything about him was perfect, why had I not noticed before? But I couldn't admire his features for long as the pain was too great. If I had know these were the last few moments in my human life I would have took them more with a female approach. Between my screams I heard the Cullen's yell at each other, over me. I didn't have it anymore, the strength to scream or to jolt about. I was dying, finally. Even though my life was coming to an end it didn't feel like it, it felt like I was just going asleep for a short time, for the last time and when I woke up I would be fine and happy again. I didn't know how wrong I was.
April 1933, 10:56 pm.
I would always remember the day she came into my life. Well, not actually came into it. More of trown into it. I remembered I had always considered myself to be something more than what I was now. Covered in delicious blood, knee deep in the tangible ecstasy of my kill the dead body beneath me, the taste in my mouth and throat. Murderers had more of a bitter taste to them, like almost sour milk or the acerbic tang of a dirty penny. I had always thought I was more than this. I, Edward Cullen, had to be more than a creature bound to his desires and hunger. But as I looked around the dark alleyway, silence deafening in the absence of my heartbeat, I knew I was not. I had become a scourge, an animal. I was wasting what I was with my indulgence. I had disappointed my beloved father. I remembered I stepped away from the drained, cooling body of the murderer and wiped my mouth with powerful self loathing. The hunger returned almost immediately but I ignored it. Insatiable as always. Carlisle said after time that would fade. Carlisle. The very thought was enough to make me feel ashamed of my behaviour. He thought I had given up my human drinking ways years ago. I had rejoined him, rejoined the society in which we sometimes circulated. But he could not read minds. I was deceiving him, and I suddenly realised how terrible it was. My secret forays into the night to slake a thirst I so despised, it had to end. So it was with resolve that I left the expired meal behind me and returned to my family, expecting to find them exactly as I left them. I could remember it being a very short return journey to Rochester was filled with brooding regrets. Regrets over imprudent things I had done. I had wasted ten years of time being stupid, wasteful and indulgent. I had so missed Carlisle and Esme, my parents, my companions, my family, my everything. Missed them so much that I had had to return to them. Carlisle had forgiven me of everything, I was his son and had never ceased to be. He did not know that I still drank human blood. In the crystal sharp retrospect, I could see how pathetic my little rebellion had been. The desire for blood, even for the blood of wrongdoers, was inescapably childish. I reflected upon it bitterly as I made my way home. Home being Carlisle, not Rochester. The small town outside of it had seen a reduction in their crime rates recently, but an increase of dead murderers and rapists. Carlisle would read of my transgressions in the papers tomorrow.I remembered as I drew closer, I began to feel something was wrong. The vague shape of thoughts that were fraught with guilt and worry. Those thoughts belonged to Carlisle. Panic shot through me instantly. I was a half mile from our house. What had happened? I threw off the human pretence and jumped from the carriage. It was thickly night, the coachman was almost asleep himself and did not notice my light spring from within, nor my soundless landing on the cobblestones of the street. The smell of human blood was not far, barely a day old. What had happened? Something was wrong, and it was related to the smell of blood. Carlisle's thoughts became shapes, then a blurred writhing figure and then finally a girl. A girl screaming and begging him for death, and Carlisle could not oblige because of the change he had set in motion. I was frozen for a moment, mere feet from my home. The isolated house would betray not screams to the outside world, but I could hear them. I could feel Esme's concern for the girl, her soothing thoughts. Carlisle was beside himself, riddled with guilt. He missed me, wished I was there.
That did it. I remembered the house, if nothing else, was the same as when I had left it. Comfortably decorated, but minimally so. A few chairs here and there, props for when (if ever) we entertained. The walls bore art, beautiful and ornate. The colours were soft and creamy. The halls echoed with screams, bitter blood curdling screeching. I remembered my own throat making such a resonance. But no…surely not. Down though the beautiful bowels of the house I went, absorbing the thoughts as they came to me. By the time I opened the door, I was in no doubt that Carlisle had found a girl, raped and beaten almost to death in the streets and that he was changing her to save her. What I was not prepared for, was who it was. Neither Carlisle nor Esme had thought her name once, why would they when all they cared for was her suffering? I could remember watching Rosalie Hale shake and shudder in agony, great bouts of the invisible fire ripping through her as she screamed and pleaded almost incoherently for Carlisle to kill her And there he was, my father, sitting beside her talking to her in a broken voice, fractured with remorse. Esme was beside him, stroking back the girl's blonde hair, damp with sweat and coloured with blood. They both looked up suddenly. "Edward!" I remember Esme cried out, running to me arms thrown wide to embrace me. I returned her hug, so pleased to see her as always. "Oh my darling," she said, kissing my face and cupping my cheeks. "Oh thank heavens you're here!" Carlisle was there the moment she stepped away. He hugged me tightly, I knew he so wanted my approval for what he had done. Our strange little family stood together, trying to speak over the fading screams of a dying Rosalie Hale. "I had to," Carlisle said instantly, his eyes pleading with me but his voice strong and assured. "She was dying." I looked at her, tearing at her own face as she cried. I knew of Rosalie Hale in society. A vain, stuck up little creature who wanted everything - the perfect husband, beautiful babies, fabulous home. We had met twice and I disposed to dislike her. She was the sort of person so enraptured in her own life that she could not see anything beyond it. Of all the people I could imagine spending an eternity with, Rosalie Hale was at the very bottom of the list. "Who did this to her?" I asked, trying to detract from giving my approval. I remember Esme closed her eyes, shaking her head a little. It was Carlisle who answered, his voice taut. "Her fiancé, Royce King. His scent is all over her and I encountered him a few streets from where I found her. He was drunk, laughing - he bore her blood. He and his…friends." I felt pity for her then, she was trembling uncontrollably. But it did not sway my opinion. Carlisle's good nature had led him too far this time. I listened to her beg for death in murmurs and I could not contain my frustration."What were you thinking, Carlisle?" I asked, closing my eyes. "Rosalie Hale?" Carlisle turned from me and sat beside her once more, holding her hand gently. "I couldn't just let her die. It was too much - too horrible, too much waste." That was not the point. He wasn't seeing the point. Clearly, she did not want to live. Had he not considered that living with what had happened to her might be unbearable, and worse - us having to live with it. But telling him this would have been unfair, he already felt the guilt as if he had committed the crime upon her. I could feel it in waves, hear it echo in his mind. "I know. He seemed not to hear me, lost in the horror of what had been done to her and what he had done. "It was too much waste. I couldn't leave her," he whispered. Behind me, Esme was so much more ready to reassure him than I was. "Of course you couldn't."I remembered I felt angry. Not jealous. Never jealous. Of course not. To see my beloved father holding her hand like that, whispering to her. My mother thinking forward to a time when she would be fully changed, how she would have a daughter. Why would that make me jealous? "People die all the time," I said, harshly. "Don't you think she's just a little recognisable, though? The Kings will have to put up a huge search - not that anyone will suspect the fiend. I remembered I was a torrent of mixed emotions. Sympathy, jealousy, confusion. I had my own problems to deal with, my own confessions to make. The centre of the world was suddenly swerving around Rosalie Hale. Just as she would want it, I suspected. As the crying began to fade, I could more clearly hear the thoughts of my parents. 'Forgive me, forgive me. I should have let death claim her. I am not God, I am not worthy to judge…but I could not leave her there, so broken…forgive me.' '…poor girl, such pain. Perhaps even a daughter…perhaps even more for Edward…' I had heard enough to know that they already felt strongly for her. Carlisle would be bound by his guilt for her pain, Esme by her motherly love. And it hadn't taken either of them long to latch onto the fact that we were both the same age and we were both deeply beautiful. She, of course, had been beautiful before Carlisle had set in motion the change. I had no doubt that she would be breathtaking when fully immortal. I was suddenly somewhat resigned to it, sensing the loving determination of those I thought of as my parents. "What are we going to do with her?. Carlisle sighed, her hand still in his, even though it trembled violently. "That's up to her, of course. She may want to go her own way." 'Oh I do so hope she will stay!' Esme thought. 'Stay and be a daughter, be a friend beautiful girl.' 'She will stay,' Carlisle was sure. He did not believe she would go her own way. So it was only me who did not want her in my home, with my family. My mother and father were already sold. Their sympathy and pity had moulded into love as they endured her screams. Carlisle, I suspected, would be forever bound to her. I must not have screamed so loud when I was transforming. Esme already loved her. Unfathomable. I could not stand her. She stopped shaking. One last breath exhaled from her body and then she was still, as she would be forever more. "There now," Carlisle said, his voice shaking with relief as he stroked her hair. "It's over."