Tears
I let out another final scream, as the fire in my veins slowly began to subside. I sat up, slowly, shakily. Everything felt different somehow. Dr Cullen sat beside me, looking concerned.
"How are you feeling Rosalie?" he asked gently. I propped my back up against the pillow. The memory of the past three days slowly came back to me, and I remembered what Carlisle had told me. Hesitantly, I touched my skin. Sure enough, as he had said it would be, it was cold, granite hard, and bloodless. I looked up at him in alarm. No. It couldn't be true; vampires weren't real, they were just the sort of things that adults made up to scare little children.
Weren't they?
"Do you remember what I told you at all?" he asked. I nodded.
"Yes. But it's not true" I said stubbornly.
Carlisle's face took on a pained expression, and he tried to take my hand. I snatched it away. "NO" I shouted angrily. I was beginning to shake now, terrified it might be true.
"Go and look in the mirror Rosalie" came a voice from the doorway. I looked up to see Edward Cullen standing there. I glared at the sight of him. Stupid beautiful boy I thought crossly.
"Fine, I will" I said, jumping off the bed determinedly. I pushed past him roughly, causing him to snicker.
"Idiot" I muttered.
I flounced down the hall, surprised at how much vigour I possessed, considering how much agony I had been in a few hours ago. I found a mirror at the end of the hall, with a beautiful gilt frame.
If I had been able to pass out, I would have. The person in the mirror that stared back at me was not Rosalie Hale. This person was different. She was not pretty like Rosalie Hale. She was breathtaking. I stood there for a moment, unable to articulate any form of speech.
But that was before I noticed the eyes. They were a vibrant red, and utterly, utterly evil. I pressed my face against the smooth coldness of the mirror, and traced the reflection of my ruby iris with a finger. The monster's eye blinked in unison with mine. But it couldn't be mine. It just couldn't. It was the eye of a devil, and I was destined for heaven.
Footsteps down the hall distracted me. It was Carlisle.
"Now do you believe me?" he asked, keeping a wary distance. I wondered why.
"No. I don't" I said stubbornly "I'm dreaming, that's what this is all about, and when I wake up, I will be back in Royce's arms, and none of this will have ever happened!" I said, my voice growing hysterical.
My hands were trembling as I stood there, waiting for something, anything, to happen. Nothing did. The clock continued to tick in the kitchen. The water trickled through the pipes. The fire crackled in the living room. And all the while, Carlisle just stood there, watching me.
I felt frustrated fury well up inside me. I let out a loud scream, and punched the nearest thing with all my might, which, incidentally, happened to be the mirror. I let out a cry, anticipating pain. But it didn't come. The mirror had been smashed beyond recognition, and my fist had left a sizable dent in the wall. I examined my fist for blood, or at least some kind of mark. There was none. I looked down at the shards, my reflection now hideously distorted. But the crimson eye stared back at me nonetheless. I backed away, shivering. I felt so cold.
Then Carlisle did something very peculiar. He bent down, and removed his shoes and socks. I looked at him incredulously, wondering what he was playing at. Slowly, very slowly, he began to walk towards me across the glass shards.
"Don't! You'll cut yourself!" I said in alarm. But he continued to walk towards me, never wavering once. He kept my gaze locked to his. When he was over the glass, he lifted his foot up to show me the sole. Miraculously, just as my hand had been, it was completely unscathed.
"You see?" he whispered softly. I did see, but what as my mother said, seeing is not always believing.
"But how…?" I asked, baffled.
"Rosalie, you have to accept what you are now" he said quietly. There was no lie in his golden eyes.
"No I'M NOT!" I screamed at him, desperately trying to hide from the truth.
"Rosalie, listen-" he tried to say between my hysterical cries.
"You've got to change me back! Please Carlisle, please!" I begged, grabbing his arm and shaking it desperately.
His eyes became pools of sadness and regret, and he turned his head away from me.
"You can do that, can't you?" I asked in a tiny voice.
He looked up at me, and shook his head.
"I am so, so, so sorry" he whispered. He walked into another room, closing the door behind him quietly. I stood there in the hall, inhaling and exhaling rapidly, unable to curb the rising terror I felt in my chest.
I ran up the stairs, and into the bathroom. I tried to let out a sob, but it came out dry and cracked. I looked at my eyes. They remained as clear and red as ever. I tried again, forcing myself to cry. But I couldn't. No matter how much I tried, I could…not…cry.
Desperately, I turned the tap on, and splashed copious amounts of water into my eyes. I screamed as it stung, and buried my head in a towel, moaning pitifully like a wounded animal. I don't know how long I sat there for, crying non-existent tears. I wanted my mother, I wanted to be a baby again, swaddled in pure white linen and cradled in her arms. I remembered the lullaby she used to sing to me, and began to whisper it to myself very quietly. I cuddled the towel I was holding, feeling utterly helpless.