A/N: You have been warned. Sporadic updates, random words. A surprise chapter at the end.

Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I wouldn't be surprised if the words do, too.

Betrayed

Rosalie

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
If the Lord won't take you, the devil must.

I walked home slowly, wary of the dim lights and seedy neighbourhood. How ironic that the poorest families in Rochester lived next to the some of the richest. I eyed the dilapidated shacks in disgust, watching the dirty children play indoors with their family. The children deserved a better life. The life of the poor and dirty was not suitable for a child.

I wished I had called Papa. He would have sent a driver over to pick me up immediately-still, it felt ridiculous. I lived only a few blocks away. It was why I enjoyed visiting Vera so, it was located conveniently close to home. I had left later than usual today, however, and had to walk at this late hour.

As I walked, I recalled my visit to Vera. Her little Henry was really too adorable for words-he was at the stage where he was sitting up on his own. Being with Vera was the only time I had felt jealous. She had everything I wanted, a child, a loving husband...I pushed the thought aside. I was engaged to Royce now, and I felt only pity for her when I imagined my children playing in the lush grounds of the King's mansion. Still, that little flicker of doubt lingered.

When I passed by a particularly dark area I shivered and tightened my jacket, a gift from Royce, around my bodice. I was fully aware I would be a target for robbers and whatnot. I was dressed more conservatively than normal, due the coldness unusual for late April, but my attire was still gaudy and clearly extravagant.

A dog howled in the background, and I quickened my pace, taking mincing steps in the constricting skirt I was in. I heard the laughter of men nearby, and considered turning back. But I was so close to my home...I could see warm, inviting lights twinkling in the near distance. I breathed in a gulpful of cool, crisp air and braced myself.

I came across the men quickly. They were at the barrier between the rich and the poor, lurking beneath a broken streetlight. I could only see their shadows, and I walked as far away from them as possible in the hope that they would ignore me. I distracted myself with thoughts. It was really very cold. I worried about the wedding, set tentatively at a week from today. I didn't want an indoor wedding; it would spoil the effect completely.

I recognized the street as I passed it. I was very close to home now, where fires roared comfortingly and grand rugs and carpets decorated the house. I longed to sit at home in front of the fireplace, and I quickened my pace to a brisk trot.

The men laughed loudly then. They were drunk. I shrank into the shadows, frightened and wary, wishing more than ever that I had called upon my father to escort me home.

One of them called my name then. "Rose!" a familiar voice boomed. I paused for a second. Royce was among them; I hadn't realized the men were so well-dressed. I had assumed they were part of the local drunks. I recognized some of the others. They were all sons of other rich men. I wondered if I should stay or go. I quickly decided to leave. If Royce was drunk he could not be held accountable for his actions.

"Here's my Rose!" Royce laughed stupidly, chortling with the others boisterously. "You're late. We're cold, you've kept us waiting so long."

My heart beat in quick stacatto bumps. I hadn't realized Royce drank. I had never seen him drink before other than the occasional toast. He had told me, once, that he didn't like champagne. I realized now he preffered something stronger. Royce grabbed my arm suddenly, drawing me up so close I could smell the sour scent of stale beer hanging on them.

"What did I tell you, John," Royce crowed, addressing the John in question. A dark-haired, tanned man looked me over like I was a horse for sale. I shivered under his stare. I recognized him as a friend of a friend, come up from Atlanta. "Isn't she lovelier than all your Georgia peaches?"

I couldn't find it in me to feel pride at his compliment; instead, shivers broke out as the man slowly leered. "It's hard to tell," he drawled. "She's all covered up."

They laughed loudly, Royce like the rest, as he pulled the jacket off my shoulder roughly. The brass buttons popped and scattered over the street as I shivered under the sudden cold. I tried to pull me arm loose, but Royce was no weakling. He held me tightly and laughed again. "Show him what you look like, Rose!"

He tore my hat out of my hair, the pins wrenching my hair from my roots. I cried out at the sharp pain stinging, and they laughed more, enjoying my pain. I cringed away from them, wrenching my hand loose and trying to run and escape for home.

"Come on, Rose!" Royce laughed loudly, ripping at my clothes. His nails dug into my skin, tearing out my skin and flesh. I screamed in pain as blood stained whatever garment was left. Deep red dotted the ground as they took turns to pull and rip at me roughly, tossing me around.

They forced themselves onto me, pushing deep and rough as I screamed and writhed, passing me around once they were done and laughing stupidly at me. One of them, a tall, stocky man named Charles took great pleasure in tearing out my hair, yanking blonde hair from the roots and smearing it over me with his hand.

They groped me blindly and forced themselves on me, and when they were done, threw me onto the floor like a rag doll. I caught my fall with my hands, sobbing as I gathered up the scraps of my clothes. A wave of nausea hit me and I slumped onto the cold floor, blood dripping copiously from my several wounds.

They staggered away, still joking crudely. "You'll need a new bride now, eh, Royce?" one of them teased. Royce laughed loudly in response, and told them he would need to learn some patience first. I waited in the road, my body turning numb from the cold. I waited to die.

Minutes, then hours passed. The first snow started to fall, and I wondered why it was taking so long to die. Perhaps I wasn't suffering enough, maybe I needed to suffer more as a sick punishment to my selfishness.

The pain stung, but not as badly as the sting of Royce's betrayal.

I felt a soft breeze then, and I forced open my eyelids through the dried blood to see Doctor Cullen bending over me. I felt a twinge of irritation. I had never liked the Cullens. They were more good-looking than I was, the main reason why I disliked them so much. I didn't enjoy sharing the spotlight. The Cullens, however, lived in isolation and didn't mingle.

Doctor Cullen pulled me up then, and I suddenly thought I was finally dead. It felt like flying, the speed at which I was traveling at. I was horrified the pain didn't stop. Shouldn't pain stop in death?

I felt warmth then, a soft, inviting feeling that warmed my toes and returned some feeling to my limbs. Bright lights surrounded me, and I felt the pain begin to dull as I slowly lost consciousness. I welcomed death, as long as it was a relief to the pain.

Then I felt pricks of pain, cutting at my wrists, ankles and neck. I screamed mentally as the pain returned to me, surging through my veins like a red-hot burn. I found my mouth, and screamed and screamed. I could hear Doctor Cullen next to me, speaking to me and apologizing, over and over, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the burning pain that scorched everything in it's path.

At that moment then, the pain made me think it was the ending. I was mistaken.

It was only the beginning.