Disclaimer: Twilight is not mine.
Summary: She was a girl running away from a past and too many secrets better left forgotten. He thought he had everything until he met her. Will they ever realize that they were meant for each other? AH, Normal pairings.
They say that every cloud had a silver lining. But what if there were no clouds to begin with - only clear skies so perfect that it makes you sick just looking at them?
She was a vain, coldhearted bitch – no words could ever describe her better.
And she was happy with it.
Vanity was a sin, but possessed with such looks, who wouldn't be a tad narcissistic? What blind person would allow such a wonderful gift to waste away? She had the type of beauty that could stop anyone in their tracks, rob them of their breath and leave them senseless from witnessing such splendor, such magnificence.
Her long, silky hair was appealing to the senses, a shade as light as sunshine, yet darker than burnished gold. Her skin was fair, unblemished, and gleamed subtly like the finest porcelain. Her eyes were the subject of many an argument – no color has yet been invented to explicate their awe-inspiring depth of hue. Were they greenish blue, or bluish green? None could tell. With her well-sculpted figure, she was aware of what others thought of her.
Ravishing.
Beautiful.
The embodiment of Perfection.
She was aptly christened with a name worthy of her exquisiteness:
Rosalie. Lovely as a fresh, dew-kissed morning rose and as delicate as the first, fleeting rays of light that graced the surface of the earth at dawn.
She was coldhearted. The first one to laugh at a bumbling idiot's faux pas, she was quick at noticing others' faults, the things that alienate them from the 'cool group.' Anyone undeserving of her regard but wished to be her friend would be rejected with harsh, stinging words, the severity depending on how pathetic the person was. A friend, in her opinion, should be as, or if not more, stylish than her. That was a goal too high for anybody to reach, so she had to contend herself with her lessers.
And third, yes, she was a bitch – albeit a highly sophisticated one. No ordinary male worth his salt was allowed to woo her. What will she do with an ungainly boy who tripped on his own words and gave her cheap trinkets? If she was to consent to be the arm candy of anybody, she must get to choose who, preferably someone as good-looking as her.
Everyone wanted to be her friend. Everyone yearned to be with her, if only for a few moments. Everyone went to incredible lengths just to be like her.
With a wry twist of her lips, she remembered a girl from her grade that tried to imitate her in every way - to no avail. The stupid girl talked like her, walked like her, dressed like her, and even dyed her hair in an attempt to recreate the unusual tint of hers. That was the last straw. On her pasty white complexion, the hapless girl's hair looked like an interesting new color of vomit, and Rosalie took pleasure in dumping her half-finished shake on top of her pitiful head. She could never forget the shrill screams the girl emitted, a soothing balm to her bruised ego. How dare that insipid chit pull such a trick? No one could equal her. No one.
When called to the principal's office, she merely said, in a deceptively innocent voice, "What? I thought that she was a garbage can. Obviously someone barfed on her, with her hair colored like that."
They never saw the girl again.
There was another time when a geek from computer class who took a fancy to her. She would open her locker every morning to see it filled with badly composed poems and boxes of cheap chocolate melting on her books. She hoped that he would stop with his foolishness, and when he didn't, in front of the whole school she told him to 'get a life and stick to his own hopeless, pathetic kind.'
Frank and merciless, with no flowery words to spare his feelings.
And it was not the first time that sort of event occurred. They never learned, and seemed to come back to be hurt over and over.
Her life was perfect. She never thought beyond what attire she would wear and what shoes would match. She was popular. Surrounding herself with only the elite, the crème de la crème, she could almost say that she was content.
But then it happened.
She should've realized that her own cruelty and her self-centered absorption would return to haunt her. Like a gullible imbecile, she let herself be fooled, and her folly had shattered the rose-tinted glasses that painted the world in such pretty colors. Because of that, she had come to terms with the fact that everything around her was black and white, with no gray in between. No one was purely good, but there are some who were completely evil.
Never had she been so…disgusted with herself. She felt so dirty, stained in a way mere water alone could not rinse out. Her soul was besmirched. Her spirit became dreary, drained of any vigor of life it once had.
When she needed them the most, her so-called friends abandoned her. Faster than a blink of an eye, and because of actions not of her own doing, the people she had thought to genuinely care for her turned their backs and cast her away from the circle she once belonged to. They left her to suffer alone.
The worst thing was that everyone seemed to know, in some way or less. Speculative glances and shifty eyes were trained upon her as she walked by. Whispers dogged her every step. Her every move was watched, as if they expected her to fall apart at any given time.
She told herself that nothing had changed. She was still the same person, but different reasons now dictated her actions. She was still vain – to show the world that what happened hadn't affected her; was still coldhearted – to protect her own person from those who had betrayed her; and last, she was still a bitch in order not to let anyone get near her and be able to hurt her again.
Nevermore.
But she was no longer happy.
What do you think? I've never written about an 'imperfect heroine' before. Was the level of her 'bitchiness' enough? There is a reason why she is like that. Should I continue? Please review!
Next chapter:
"Did you hear about the new students?" a girl at the nearby table asked her friend. "Paula told me that they were stinking rich, with a car that may have cost millions."
"Duh, I know!" her friend giggled. "Not to mention that they are so hot, hot hot!"
From her table, Rosalie rolled her eyes. Rich, good-lookng and popular, were they?
Just the type of people she hated the most.