Rochester, New York. April 15, 1933.
Royce King found dead in Powers Building!
These words seemed to jump out of the page. Staring at her, never fading from her head. She scanned the page for the fifteenth time that hour.
The dirt smears across the cotton pages only made it more real.
John Harding, age 23. Mr. Harding was arrested yesterday afternoon and has been charged with the murder of Royce King and his four guards. Investigation is pending on the link between King's murder and Ms. Hale's recent disappearance.
Her index finger traced the paper, forming shapes along the man's face. John Harding. This innocent man would receive a fate he didn't deserve. All because of her.
Part of her was empathetic. For she too, had lost her innocence. The man was young. He was newly married to a woman named Vivian and had an eight month old baby girl. She had seen the man around town several times.
He had attended her families' parties, talked of business deals with her father.. He was a man of class and society just like her, or like she had been rather.
The wind whistled through the trees and splattered her face with dew drops. For the past three days she had been on the forest floor staring at the same words, over and over. Errant thoughts mingled with the words on the page in between her pale hands.
I wonder if Carlisle is worried.. Is Edward thrilled I'm gone… will I ever go back.. what have I done… Harding, 23…cause of death .. bones severely broken…no word of Rosalie Hale's whereabouts..
She wanted to scream, to cry , to fade away into the green forest…something to make the thoughts end.
For the first time in three days, she remembered what she was wearing. The beautiful white dress stolen from Marie's on the corner of 23rd street. She remembered going there as a girl and shopping for a dress for her cousin's wedding. She fingered the fabric…silk with a lace bodice.
The dress was torn beyond repair. The threads poking out along the seams where it had torn around the bottom. The crimson blood tainting the dress , warping the floral appliqué. His blood. His blood was on her perfect dress..ruining it.
The corner of her lips turned up into a satisfied smirk, and then a smile. She had ended the monster.
Soft footfalls treaded across the damp earth. She was poised to attack. The snarl that escaped echoed through the branches.
"Rosalie"
It was Edward. She took his hand in silence as they headed back towards town. They ran, enjoying nothing but the air rushing past them like a waterfall. They would have to leave and start a new life. She would burn the dress and the article and never look back. Or so she thought.
Little did she know, over 80 years from then, that her memories would come flooding back as she begged Edward's mate to keep her innocence.