A/N: Okay, I know this has been done before, and I wasn't going to post it, but then I changed my mind. So, here it is. If you guys like it and let me know, there are a few more chapters after this one. If at least one person reviews and is interested, I will be happy to put up the rest.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight books.

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'Why me? What had I done to deserve this?' I contemplated these questions in my head as I lay there, awaiting death. I was surely going to die. I wanted to die. Because here I was, Rosalie Hale, who was soon to be the blushing bride of none other than Royce King, too weak to shiver, despite lying on an icy ground; too hurt to even whimper in pain; too humiliated to even want to survive.

Even if my lungs had enough strength to muster up a decent scream for help, I wouldn't bother. I would rather be dead when they found my broken and beaten body instead of have to face life after this. Because if I did survive, I would be a cast off. People would look at me with pity rather than adoration. They would comfort Royce through the awful event, and nod their heads solemnly when he announced that he thought it best to call off the wedding.

I was damaged goods. Useless. A disposable woman whose beauty would be marred by the imperfection of what had happened. Violated. I had been violated in the worst way. Used. Trashed. Abused. Discarded. Shamed. So many things I had been put through. I thought back to what had happened and cringed at the memories.

"C'mon Rosie," Royce's words were forever etched in my mind, "Give me all you got." My mind reluctantly replayed what had happened next. The way he had shoved me down, laughing as I screamed when my head made contact with the hard ground. How he had pushed my skirt to my waist. How I had begged, dropped myself to the level of pleading as he forced himself in me. The pain. The agonizing feeling of being ripped in two, and my useless attempts to shove at his chest.

I wanted to retch as I remembered being passed around, forced to do unimaginably horrid things, and then destroyed. The pain throughout my body throbbed as an angry reminder, forcing me to relive the violent acts. But I was becoming numb. It was so cold. Blood. So much blood. Pooling and drying in my hair, staining the snow around me, running down my legs, and flowing from the multiple gashes on my body.

But all this meant quicker death. Yes, death would sweep me into her merciful arms and help me escape all of it. Escape him. Escape the scorn, the humiliation, the pain, and my shame. Death would rescue me from this cruel world. This unjust world. For it was unjust for me to finally reach the top with all my dreams almost in my grasp, only to have it swiped from my fingertips. My life, in the literal sense, was stolen along with my fantasy future.

I closed my eyes as my vision blurred with the creeping unconsciousness, my mind going fuzzy. Here it was. I silently bid farewell to my family, wishing I could have properly said goodbye. But what did it matter? Saying goodbye wouldn't have made this disgusting departure from the world any less unbearable.

But, wait...footsteps? Yes, soft footsteps were approaching me. No! No, they weren't supposed to find me yet. I vainly tried to adjust what was left of my clothing and salvage what was left of my dignity, but my arms only twitched, unable to move. So I remained exposed and helpless. Not how I wanted to be found.

Then, I wasn't quite as cold anymore. It took me a minute to realize that someone had placed a coat over me, shielding me not only from the chill, but from being displayed like a dog in the street. I turned my face into the coat and inhaled the most wonderful scent. It was warm and sweet, indescribable.

"Rosalie?" A voice so soft and comforting. Someone concerned and not disgusted. Someone who cared. "Who did this to you?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but found that my parched throat rendered me unable to identify the monsters. Instead, a raspy kind of whimper escaped me.

"Shh, shh. It's okay. I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen, I am going to take care of you."

Dr. Cullen? But I didn't want to be taken care of, especially not by him. Why was it he that had to find me? Why was I even found? I tried to protest as he poked and prodded, tried to tell him to let me die, but I couldn't force words from my lips and my body was too weak to physically protest. The Cullens had always been detached from society, always at the fringe of the community, so why did he care what happened to me? But that wasn't what irritated me the most. It was the fact that they could have been more popular, more adored, more loved than even me if they had so wanted to.

Because they were beautiful and rich. They had a breath taking beauty that outmatched even my own. And I scoffed at them for it. Why such trivial facts bothered me at such a time, I wasn't sure.

All of a sudden we were moving, but I could only tell by the soft whisper of cool wind on my face. There was no sound of footfalls and the jarring movement that would have accompanied running was absent. Were we flying? Floating? Had I died, finally? Oh, how I wished to die! The sound of an opening door made me wonder if I was passing through the gates of heaven.

Surely I would go to heaven, for in the back of my mind, I identified myself as a martyr, in some ways. Someone who had been brutally and unjustly murdered. But there was still pain.

I thought there wasn't supposed to be pain in heaven? And the lights above were bright and intrusive. Why couldn't they turn the lights down? But it was warm, and I was grateful for that.

I became vaguely aware of being set down, but there was such a heavy darkness closing in on me that I knew I wasn't dead yet. It was coming, encroaching on my life now. I began to lose my grasp on everything, and my heart, which I was now aware of, stuttered.

"I've got to act quick," a murmur from somewhere, but I wasn't sure who was with me or why the voice was so agonized, almost as if he were debating something hard and had come to a reluctant conclusion. I felt a cool breath at my ear and was surprised by what he whispered.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Hale." So sincere and regretful, but why? Suddenly, I was being dragged forcefully back to clarity by a pain so outrageous, I found myself wishing to be back in the snow, dying.

So this was why he brought me here? Hadn't I suffered enough? Hadn't I been degraded and tortured more than my fair share? A bloodcurdling scream ripped from my chest as the flames ravaged what was left of me.

I knew this was not Heaven. This was Hell.