Emmett McCarty sat facing the fountain in King Common. He hated this park. No, he hated this entire town but the park especially. It had been named King Park after the King's, the town's richest and most prestigious family. And she was married to one of them. Emmett was lost in his dark thoughts as he stared intently at the sculpture in the middle of the fountain. It had been erected right after their wedding and she was dressed in a lavish white wedding dress, her long blond hair cascading freely down her back. He loved it when it was like that, it made her look like a goddess, some ethereal beauty. But it wasn't proper for women to wear their hair down so most of the time it was tied tightly on the top of her head.

The statue didn't capture her otherworldly beauty well enough and it was marred even more by the man standing beside her, his bony arm wrapped around her waist. Her husband. He sneered at the thought. Royce King was a slimy, seedy, I'm-better-than-you, stuck-up man and Emmett hated him more than anything else. Because he kept him from her.

In the statue she wasn't smiling. She should have been smiling, after all it was her wedding day, but she wasn't. The artist, whoever he was, had changed the two people's expressions from the ones they were wearing on the day. They both looked somber in the statue, their expressions matching each others. Emmett had been at their wedding, she'd at least had the decency to invite him. He'd stayed towards the back, watching silently but not being seen. It had killed him to see the one he loved marrying another but he'd done it, for her. The photo the sculptor had based his work on had been taken on the steps outside the church after the ceremony. Emmett had watched her and she didn't look happy. She had a fake smile plastered on her face that obviously fooled everyone else, including her husband, but it didn't fool him. She was sad, unbearably so.

He had seen her searching the crowd for someone then and even though he tried to hide from her view, her eyes found his, like they always did, and they locked. For a moment her whole face lit up, but it was something he was sure only he could see. She was happy to see him, happy he had come and he was kind of happy that she was. But he couldn't stand there and let himself be made a fool of so he frowned at her and turned to walk away, but not before he saw her happiness shatter into a million pieces as he walked away from her, just like she had only a few weeks earlier.

Emmett had seen her around a few times, but always she was with her husband. He held constantly onto her arm, as if he was scared she would disappear if he didn't. Sometimes it amused Emmett, seeing Royce so worked up, but usually it just made him sad. Because he should have been the one holding onto her arm. Royce liked to show off his bride, show the world what was his, how he had caught such an amazing beauty. Because that's all she was to him; something beautiful. A prize to be won, a trophy of sorts. Just an ornament to compliment him.

It was then that Emmett realized he wasn't alone. He could hear the footsteps of people approaching him. He didn't like that someone had breached his personal space, interrupted his pathetic wallowing. Slowly, he removed his head from his hands and looked up angrily at whoever was interrupting him. His glare fell short however when he saw who it was.

O~o

Rosalie King and her husband were taking a "leisurely stroll" through King Common, Royce King's favourite of all the parks in the town, because it was named after him. Rosalie wished to walk faster – she was never one for dawdling – but her husband liked to show her off. After all, they were the most prestigious family in Rochester and Rosalie was beautiful, the perfect accessory to Royce's handsome nature.

Rosalie hated her life. She hated her husband; he was cruel and greedy and he thought of her as no more than an object that was his. She hated the mansion she lived in; it was cold and harsh and felt even less like a home than the one she lived in when she was growing up. She hated being waited on so much; she was an independent girl, or had been, and she liked to do things herself. And, contrary to how she had been a few years ago, she hated that no one cared about her deeper than her beauty. No one except him. But he was gone now, had been ever since she was forced to marry Royce King.

The couple was approaching the fountain in the centre of the common. It had been erected in their honor, on their wedding day and Rosalie hated it. The day of her wedding had been the day her life ended. Rosalie hoped to just pass it and continue on home but Royce had a different idea. She was staring intently at her designer shoes, not wanting to see the statue, when she felt Royce stiffen beside her. Just infinitesimally but their arms were joined. Before she could worry, he relaxed again and when she looked up at him, he was smirking wickedly. Oh, she hated him!

Royce pulled her closer into his side and slung his arm over her shoulder, marking her as his. She hated when he did that, but she couldn't do anything about it. He led her over to the fountain and they stood in front of it in silence for a few minutes. She tried to look anywhere but the statue but it was hard.

"That was the best day of our lives," Royce said, pulling her so tight into his side it hurt. All she could do was nod in agreement, even though it had been the opposite. "And the wedding night," he added suggestively. She shivered involuntary at the memory of that night and the way his hot, sickly voice felt on her neck. That had been by far, the worst night of her life but it hadn't been the last.

Quickly, Royce turned them and pulled her flush against his chest, his arms wrapping around her in a vice like grip. She gasped in surprise at their close proximity and tried in vain to escape his arms. No matter how many times he did this, it still scared her every time. She didn't like being in his arms, it felt more like a prison than giving her any comfort. She didn't understand what he was doing. Sure, there was the occasional public display of affection, but that was always for an audience, and there wasn't anyone else here. Was there?

She looked around to see the source of Royce's attention. And there, sitting on a bench less than twelve feet away, was him. Emmett McCarty. He was staring intently at them and his eyes were so sad. Emmett McCarty was a huge man of over six feet. Despite his size – which she found comforting rather than intimidating – he had a cute face framed by dark curls. She ached to be with him. His arms were not a prison. She loved it when he would come to her late and night and just hold her, making all her fears disappear for the short time she was with him.

Their eyes locked for a moment, hers wide and scared and longing and his just…sad. She felt like crying at all the pain she had caused him. But it wasn't her fault! Her parents had forced her to marry Royce, they would never have let her marry a farmer's son.

Royce grabbed her face and wretched her gaze back to him. "You love me right, Rosalie?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice, his foul breath washing over her face. She fought back a shiver and nodded softly, even though she really didn't want to, while biting her lip to keep from crying. Not only for Emmett but because Royce was scaring her, and she knew what was coming next.

"Say it," he growled. Again she tried to pull away, to get away, but his grip only tightened around her. "Say it." Usually she would, even though she didn't mean it in the slightest, but it would make him happy. But Emmett was sitting right there, watching them, listening to them, and she couldn't. So she stayed silent and tried her hardest not to cry. Royce took sick pleasure from it when she cried and she wouldn't give it to him. They were silent for a minute or two. He was waiting for her to tell him she loved him, but she wouldn't. In the end, he got angry.

"Say it!" he screamed, one hand fisting in her hair and pulling it hard. She cried out in pain, still refusing to let the tears building up in her eyes fall, and shook her head. His expression got impossibly angrier. "Bitch!" he shrieked. "I'm your husband, you do what I say!" His palm came down hard as he slapped her cheek with all his might. She stumbled, tripped, and fell to the ground, her new dress tearing as skidded across the concrete. Tears streamed down her face as she brought her hand up to her red check tenderly. It would bruise later.

Royce knelt down beside her, his smirk back in place. "Say you love me, Rosalie, say it." Maybe it was worth it now, even with Emmett watching her. She couldn't stand the pain, and she knew Royce would do worse back in the confines of their room. But she hesitated too long and Royce's hand came down again, and again. She squeezed her eyes closed and waited for it to stop, knowing it would have to sooner or later.

After the third slap, there was silence. She waited for more, probably harder, but they never came. "Leave her alone," someone growled. It was Emmett. Her eyes flew open instantly. Emmett was crouched down beside them, holding Royce's arm's above his head. "Never touch her, again." He brought his arm behind him and swung it forward, punching Royce in the face. Blood spurted out of his nose and it looked like it was broken. Rosalie squeaked in surprise, shuffling away as Royce doubled over in pain. Emmett punched him once more before turning quickly to Rosalie.

"Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, his hand rubbing softly up and down her bruising cheek.

She nodded. "I've had worse," she admitted. He growled, turning to glare back at Royce. He punched him again, effectively knocking him out cold.

"I'm not letting you go back to him," he said and there was no arguing, not that she'd want to anyway. Whatever he wanted to do, she would do it, because it was him. Suddenly, his lips were on hers, his arms pulling her to him softly, as if she was made of glass, and it was as if everything was right in the world. He was soft, his hands caressing her softly, making her feel special, loved. As soon as the kiss started, it finished but he didn't remove his arms from around her, he kept her safe still.

"I love you, Rosalie, I always have. Come away with me. We can go anywhere, just us. We can be happy." She hesitated a moment. Of course she wanted to be with him, she wanted to escape with him. But Royce would go after them, probably. If they were caught, Emmett could be killed. And what about his family? Her family?

"What about your family?" she asked. She had a family who didn't love her, who were happy to sell her off to the highest bidder, but Emmett had a huge, loving family. She couldn't take him away from that, no matter how much he wanted to.

"I love my family," he admitted, his hand coming up to cup her face and staring intently at her, "but I love you more. All my brothers and sisters have someone and my parents have each other. You have no one, I have no one. I'll do anything for you, Rosalie." She nodded, agreeing to go wherever he wanted.

"Okay." She took his hand and squeezed it tightly. "I love you, too." And now she could say it truthfully, without lying and having to force the words out. They fell easily from her mouth, like they were meant to be said, because they were.

"Okay," he said, standing up. Before she could do the same, he reached down and pulled her up into his arms. She giggled softly, feeling like a little girl again, and buried her head in his chest. He was warm and comforting, and everything would be okay. She would finally have the life she'd always wanted. They walked the short distance to his house and he placed her gently into the passenger seat of his car. He kissed her forehead softly and then ran off to grab some stuff. After a few, agonizing minutes, he was back, a bag slung over his back.

He smiled widely as he put the car into gear and swung out of the driveway. His hand held hers as they drove in silence. "We'll be poor," he admitted after awhile, worried she wouldn't want to go anymore. She had been waited on her whole life, he didn't know if she would want anything else.

"I don't care," she said, much to his relief.

"You'll have to work."

"I don't care," she laughed, shaking her head. "I don't care about anything, so long as I'm with you." He smiled in response, pleased with her answer. "So where are we going?" she asked softly, moving her thumb up and down over their joined hand. Her smile hadn't fallen the whole time they had been together and she loved it. Being happy, it was wonderful.

"To a better life," he answered.

She smiled wider and settled more comfortably into her seat. So long as I'm with you.

...

I don't really like this one, but whatever. I hope you do. Review?