A/N: I've re-done this story entirely and this time, I promise to update every week! Last time I posted this it contained a lot of spelling errors and bad grammar, but that was a year ago and now my English has improved. I'm also updating my other stories, so wait for new chapters this week! :)

I hope you'll like this story. Please let me know and review! ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight Saga etc.

Warning: I will mention uncomfortable subjects (e.g. eating disorders, rape, and abuse) in this story and if you're sensitive to those kinds of things you might want to stop reading.

Prologue:

Rosalie Hale glared at the small woman in front of her. The woman's name was miss Doherty and she was Rose's new therapist. She was middle age and had a friendly face – though Rose didn't think so at all. She thought the woman was the pure definition of Hell. Perhaps that was because of her hatred for therapists; however, Rose never got attached to anyone.

This was the first time Rosalie was at the therapist's office and her parents had decided that she would go there every day. She and her parents had moved around a lot recently and at every new place, they made her go see a new therapist. They said they only wanted what was best for her, but Rosalie didn't think it was good for her at all. Why didn't they see that this was not what she needed? The same thing happened at every place; it simply didn't work out. She had fought with her parents, refused to go: but still, there she sat in the small, ugly office, which looked exactly as dull as the thousand, or less, other offices she had been in the last two years.

It was ugly as Hell.

There were some flower paintings on the wall. There was a desk and two chairs... you get the idea. Someone designed it to make the patients feel comfortable and spill all their secrets. One of the therapists once told Rosalie that the interior was made to make the patients feel less like patients and more as if they were talking to a friend. What a joke, Rosalie snorted quietly. She sat in a chair with a dull brown table in front of her. There was an odd smell in the air, the smell of apple scented candles. The therapist, Miss Doherty, sat on the opposite side of the table.

It was cold as Hell.

Rosalie did believe in Hell – she was living in her own personal one. And when she would die, she believed, she'd go to Hell and suffer just like she did now. But it would be a relief for her. If she was going to Hell, surely the monsters destroying her life would end up there too. There was no expression of the torture she'd inflict on them then, she thought smugly.

"Rosalie! Please answer my question," Miss Doherty repeated in that quiet, careful voice of hers.

Rosalie snapped back to reality from her state of observing the lady's office. What was she expected to say? Rose was sure she wouldn't have answered the question anyway. She already hated being here – and she had stopped listening a while ago. It wasn't worth listening to, all the shit coming from the all-knowing therapist's mouth. At least she didn't ask too many questions, which relieved Rose a little. Except that now she had asked something and Rose had no idea what (probably stupid) question it was.

It was boring as Hell.

Miss Doherty bothered Rose; everything from her grey hair, to her skinny body and to her high heels. She almost laughed at the ironic that she was expected to talk about her supposed eating disorders (which she didn't have) with someone so skinny. Not that she talked. Not that she had an eating disorder. She was all right! She couldn't believe that her so called parents made her do this and humiliated her like this. But that was nothing new, after all. All she wanted was to be left alone.

"I didn't listen," Rosalie snapped to Miss Doherty who sighed loudly, trying to hold back her irritation. Good, at least she was suffering too, Rose smirked to herself. It was annoying as Hell.

The therapist repeated –"what do you think of when I say cheese?" It was ridiculous as Hell.

Then, unfortunately, the subject Rosalie had tried to avoid so intensively came up.

"I realize that what happened two years ago has shaken you up... Do you want to tell me about it?" Miss Doherty questioned carefully. Rosalie gasped and glared at her. How dared the talk about that? Before either of them could blink, Rosalie flew up from the chair and marched out of the room. As she threw up the door, she saw her mother's horrified face in the waiting lounge.

Suddenly Rosalie understood that her mother had told the therapist about everything, just like she had done with her other therapists. So Rose did the only thing she could think of – she ran, like every other time.

"I want to get out of here! I HATE California! You're destroying my life, we have to move, I need to get OUT OF HERE!" She yelled. The few people in the office fell silent and stared openly at her and her mother. And as she watched her mother turn beet red, she knew that she had won. Once again she had won.

And once again she was running away from her memories and reality.