Notes: I thought up of this while watching Eclipse….I never liked Rosalie until I read this book….I'm sorry….this is pretty graphic….violence wise.
Warning: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 14, OR ARE OFFENDED BY VIOLENCE.
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, or the poem (which is written by William Blake)
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The Sick Rose
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O Rose thou art sick!
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy;
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy
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She remembers the feeling.
The feeling of being used.
The feeling of pure and utter hatred, that burning creature that crawled through her soul, thirsting for revenge, more than she had ever wanted blood.
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Blood.
There was so much blood.
Seeping from between her thighs, her mouth, and the various scrapes and cuts that had been required.
She had abhorred the sight of it then, the visual proof of her pain and shame.
Well in all truth, she still did. Hated how above all else she survived on it, the one thing that reminded her so much of her last human hours.
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The dress was the one that she had planned to wear for her wedding, pure white and beautiful.
No blood…not yet.
With slow movements she walks out of the door and she can feel Carlisle's gaze burning into her. But frankly, she doesn't give a damn about his look of understanding and sympathy. Rosalie doesn't need or want it.
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The first one to die is a short, stout man. She does not know his name, and neither does she care for it.
She remembers that he was the one that bruised her mouth, and ripped open the tender skin of her lips.
He only screams once before he is dead on the floor.
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Then there is the man with his knife, who had gotten a perverse pleasure out of slicing up her arms.
She prolongs his death, breaking his arms and legs and watching as he writhes, his screams like music to her ears.
As she walks home she giggles, dancing to his fading heartbeat.
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The third has a family, and for the life of her she can't remember him doing anything besides watching.
Rosalie almost lets him live…until she sees the way he looks at his daughter.
When he leaves his house late at night she takes him into a dark alleyway, smashing his head in again and again until she starts to feel the skin break, and knows that one more time and his blood will be flowing out in a river.
Carlisle does not question the dirt on her dress.
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The only man with a name she knows….besides Royce's of course.
John.
After they had been done with her he had stayed for a few minutes longer, zipping up his pants and taking long swigs from his bottle.
Then he had dumped the remaining contents on her, soaking her hair and clothing.
"The proper burial for a common street whore." With that grin of his he walked off, whistling "Ring Around the Rosy."
'Indeed, we all do fall down.' She thinks with glee as she sees him choke, and clasp his chest, the poison she had set in his glass slowly killing him.
"John, I find this a proper death for a murder."
Red eyes crinkled happily upwards as she sees realization.
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She only has one more...and the woman licks her lips in anticipation.
"Ready or not, here I come."
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I have another chapter written about how she kills Royce…and it's shorter. Should I post it? Please if you review tell me your opinion!