Hey, a Twilight fanfic idea I didn't get from dRuMMerk3lli. Anyway, this has a big Eclipse spoiler in it. Do not read past here if you haven't read Eclipse. This is from the point of view of Royce King Junior. Remember him? If you don't, he was Rosalie's fiancee before...he tried to kill her...and Rosalie became a member of the undead...and Rosalie murdered him...Yeah, anyway, enjoy!
I am very proud of this particular piece. Out of all the stuff I've written from the point of view of Alice, Edward, Bella...and my favorite is from petty Royce King's point of view? sigh...I need to fix my priorities.
I shivered violently, watching the dark street of the world outside my personal little dungeon. This is what I had been relegated to because of something that was probably simply paranoia. There were many bad things my friends had done that didn't involve me. Well, no, not many, but there were a few. Maybe these murders were about one of the other bad things they'd done. Perhaps not involving me.
I wish I could have believed that. I might have, though it wasn't worth it. But one civilian had claimed to be out a little late when they heard a shriek, however short, however fierce, but they swore it sounded like "Hale!"
The last name of my ex-fiancée.
I shook my head. We were drunk. Drunk. We hadn't meant to. It was an accident. We couldn't be in trouble for that. Right?
No one had known what we did. No one could know that it was us that murdered Miss Hale. No one.
The other murders, the ones of my friends, were described as brutal. Their bodies were beaten horribly, not one drop of blood having spread at all, a strange phenomenon. It had seemed that the killer was determined to kill without staining anything red. Some had broken necks; somes' hearts had been wrenched from their bodies.
Four murders. That was the worst part of it, in the end. The same four that had been there when the blond died.
I reminded myself of something – unlike the others, I was prepared. I had two well-chosen bodyguards to block this door until I found out who was doing this. It was probably someone to avenge the young Rose…Rose…what was her name? Rosaline? Roseanne? I couldn't recall…
"Royce King."
My heart skipped beats. The voice was velvet, smooth, and floated through the air like an angel's. It had a ring of perfection. It would have been truly the voice of any man's dreams if it did not have a tone of fury in it, as seductive as the voice was nonetheless.
It occurred to me that no one should be here – how had this angel gotten past the guards?
I turned, smiling, ready to hold in my arms the girl who undoubtedly would be my replacement bride. That voice could belong to nothing but perfection.
Then I saw who – or what, rather – it was. My heart plunged and stopped beating. I am going to die. The angel of death had come for me.
Her blond hair gleamed nothing like I'd ever seen before, shining yellow as the sun itself. Her skin had paled, almost as if she'd sailed to the clouds and come back, still stained with their sheer white purity. The dress she wore was white, only barely whiter than her skin, and was more intricate than the dress she'd chosen for our wedding. Her lips were shining red. The only red brighter than those lips were her eyes.
Eyes, brighter than the brightest sun, redder than the reddest blood, angrier than the angriest vengeance. Eyes, glowing red. Encompassing my being, full of anger, hate and revenge.
Truly, she was the image of the angel of death itself.
"Answer me when I speak to you, pig," she snarled. The look was misshapen on her face. The fury there didn't belong.
I opened my mouth, but couldn't breathe. She was haunting me. She had come back to haunt me. To take me to hell.
I choked a word past my disbelieving lips. "No," I whispered. "It…it can't be."
"Oh, yes," she replied coolly, her voice still floating like nothing else I'd ever heard. She glided forward, toward me. "It is. I am what you think I am," she cooed, floating closer, closer, closer. "Look at me. I am dead. This is what you have done to me. What about that perfect wedding?" She growled. The sound made my knees buckle, the fierceness behind it fueled by every shred of hate the devil himself could muster. "Perfect life. I should have known. Stupid girls never know, though." She sighed. Something hit my knees. It took a few moments to register that the sensation was the floor caused by my falling on it. "I paid for my stupidity. Oh yes. I paid dearly."
She was upon me, standing above me. My head spun; I was feeling dizzy. I breathed in sharp gasps.
"But not as dearly as you will pay for your stupidity." She shook her head. "You will not harm any more poor, innocent, idiot girls. No longer."
A dizzying pain spread through my arm. I fell forward onto the floor, landing on my broken arm. I began to cry in pain, but there was no time, as a searing pain landed in my leg next. My scream caught in my throat. I could barely breathe. Something ripped out of my back. Was my spine where it should be? I don't know what happened. Pain followed by unbearable pain came, without relent.
Cold, hard stone grasped my neck. My head swam. Couldn't the devil just take me? Why all the fuss? Why must I suffer now if I had not even reached death yet?
The stone squeezed my throat. I choked, sputtering, trying to pull away, but the cool marble would not relent.
"Damn you, Royce," Rosalie Hale hissed. "In all the literal senses. Damn you to hell."
My head swam. I needed to breathe! Air! Air!
I tried to think. I couldn't. Please, Lord! Give me one last chance! I shall not kill, I shall not consume alcohol; I will be pious, I will be good, I swear! Just let me…live…I'm sorry…Rosalie…
..:.+.:.o.:.+.:..
The cold body fell from the vampiress's fingers. She sneered. "Pig," she muttered, and left his dead body for the vulture policemen to find.