Summary:

Rose and Bella learn to overcome more than just dealing with an abusive father. When tragedy hits the Hale twins, Bella has to learn to trust again, work through her grief, and figure out how to survive in an immortal world. This is a BxE vampire story, it just takes a second to get there. There is a lot of focus on Bella and her sisterhood with Rose, too!

A/N

Hello! Welcome to my first ever fanfiction! I'm crazy nervous and really excited about it. I don't want to take up too much of your time (I'd rather you read on instead) so I'll add a note on the bottom of this chapter with more details about where I'm going with this story and what not. For now, please read on, enjoy, and let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyers owns it all, baby! Couldn't have created this story without her.

...

Chapter 1

1914

"Bells, I'm scared," Rosie murmured in a hushed voice. Her soft, tangled, golden locks splayed all over me as she nestled closer in an attempt to block out the disruptive yelling coming from the other side of our bedroom door.

"Me too," I whispered back.

A loud bang rang throughout our small cottage followed by the harsh male alto voice that belonged to our father, William.

"Who was here, Lillian?! What are you hiding from me? ANSWER!"

Another loud bang vibrated the walls. I shrunk closer to Rosie and took a shuddering breath to try and calm myself.

"William, please...just me and the girls! That's all. Please believe me, William. I would never lie to you, please."

My mother's voice trembled with fear. She was barely audible from the huddled position where Rosie and I were hiding, but loud enough so we could hear every muttered word, every anger driven encounter.

"Stop lying. I know you are. You think you can get away with this? After everything I've given to you and those annoying little children you so adore." I heard my father grunt out drunkenly. There were muffled sounds and faint footsteps.

"NO, leave them out of this! They've done nothing wrong! Please, I beg of you, William. It's all me, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, please," my mother begged, words being split by her ragged, tear-filled breathing.

"Shut up," my father grunted out aggressively. Another loud, resounding bang rang through the air and then silence.

Rosie and I sat, huddled next to the bed we shared, clutching onto one another so tightly it was as though we were hoping the harder we held on, the more likely we could vanish altogether.

After a few minutes, which ticked by more like hours, I detached myself from my sister and moved to stand. She grabbed onto the sleeve of my nightgown and pulled, urging me to stay in place.

I glanced down at her ashen face, debating. "Rose, I have to check on her. Make sure she's alright."

Her jaw set in a manner that told me she wasn't happy with this decision, but she let go of my sleeve. I bit my lip and took a deep breath, aware of what was beyond our safe haven, yet not prepared to face it.

I moved towards the door anyway.

When I opened our bedroom door, the long hallway that led to other bedrooms, as well as the kitchen and tiny living room space, was dark. It was late in the evening, just past eight, close to mine and Rosie's bedtime.

I padded down the hallway quietly, the old wood floors creaking slightly with each step, hoping my father had left or passed out from the large amount of alcohol I assumed he had consumed. It was common for him to come home drunk and angry most nights.

"Mom," I whispered. I chewed my lip until I tasted the salty metallic of my own blood. I'd done this so many times, so many nights. No matter how many times this situation arose, I always felt sick. Felt my heart pounding in my chest, bursting with anxiety and the fear that maybe this was it. Maybe he had hit too roughly, kicked too hard…

"Mommy…" I tried again. By now, I was almost to my parents' bedroom. It was just down the hall, just a few feet from where Rosie and I were just cowering.

"Please be alright, please be alright, please be alright," I kept muttering. Maybe if I said it enough, it would be true.

I reached their bedroom door, which was open, with soft light from what was most likely candles, shining through. We had a few light fixtures but more often than not, our electricity was out. Whether that was due to the poor circuiting our ancient house had or the lack of bill paying, I wasn't sure.

I took a steadying breath and rounded the corner, standing directly in the door frame.

My mother was sitting at the foot of her bed, head in hands, silently shaking. Her gown was wrinkled and pushed off of one shoulder. I wandered in slowly, apprehensive.

"Mom?" I questioned one more time. At this, she glanced towards me. Tear streaks smeared her face, a soft purple bruise forming just below her right eye, a matching cut sliced her lip.

"Isabella, dear, you and Rosalie should be getting ready for bed," she said, her voice forcing assertion. She wiped her tears quickly, as if simply drying them would mean I couldn't see the evidence of her distress.

"Are you okay?" I asked. I knew the answer, the true answer, as well as the one she would most likely give.

"Yes, silly girl. I'm just fine. Your father was just a little anxious is all. Now grab Rosalie and brush your teeth and hair. Time for bed." She ran her fingers through her bright golden hair, trying to smooth down the stray pieces that had sprung from their place in her usually tight and orderly bun.

My mother is beautiful. Tall, slim, with bright blue eyes and blonde hair that glinted in the sun. Her tanned skin makes her look youthful and vibrant, but if you look close enough, the light purple circles under her eyes and pale scars that litter her body tell a different story.

In public, she stood tall, firm, and strong. When she laughed, people stopped and smiled too, just because her happiness was so infectious. At home, when my father was around, the dominant, happy woman most people saw disappeared and was replaced by an anxious, fragile person.

My father had a way of changing people, always in the worst ways possible. He was born in the late 19th century and was abandoned by his parents early on. He grew up in the bitter cold streets of New York, where he found a job as a handyman and was able to make a small, barely manageable, living.

He and my mother met when they were young and had both Rosie and I, accidentally, just a few months after meeting one another. If you look past his handsome, dark features, you can see the deep grief and resentment he holds for my sister and me. I may be young, but you can just tell when someone hates you as much as he does us.

Rosalie takes after my mother. Hair, eyes, height, and attitude. At only 13, Rosalie already towers over most other girls our age, including all the boys. She has soft skin that has yet to lose its baby fuzz, giving her a slight glow. While Rose hasn't quite grown into the all-encompassing personality our mother had, you could tell it was only a matter of time. They were both stunning, inside and out.

I, on the other hand, look more like our father, even though Rosie and I are twins. I have dark chestnut brown hair that lays in a tangled mess down to the middle of my back. No amount of brushing and braiding can seem to tame it. Whereas my mother and sisters' eyes shine a bright, crystal blue, mine are the same as my fathers; a deep brown speckled with yellow. I do share the same slightly tanned skin as both my sister and mother, thankfully.

Aside from the obvious differences between some features, mine and Rose's basic build and facial structure is almost identical. It's weird, seeing someone that looks so similar to you but with such contrasting traits. It was like looking at yourself through a broken mirror; you can just make out your appearance, but things are just slightly...off.

I looked at my mother and took in her rumpled clothes and heavy eyes. She had stood up and wandered over to her dresser, rearranging the clothes that were there, even though I knew they were already organized.

I took a deep breath and walked over to her, unable to leave knowing she wasn't alright. No matter how nonchalant and collected she acted, I knew how scared and hurt she was. I was feeling the same way.

"Mom, please, are you okay? Rosie and I are scared," I said, unsure my voice was loud enough for her to hear. I heard her take a long, shaky breath before turning to face me. No evidence of tears, just my mother's light, loving face appeared.

"Yes, I'm just fine, Isabella. Your father was just angry. You don't have to worry about me, that's my job. Now please, go get Rosalie and get ready for bed. You don't want your father to see how late you've both stayed up." She advanced towards me, lightly ushering me towards the bedroom door before she said, "I'll be in to say goodnight soon."

I chanced one more glance up at her, then huffed and trudged back into mine and Rosie's room in defeat.

...

1919

"I don't like him," I spat out roughly, trying to make a point.

"You don't have to, you're not marrying him," Rose bit back. Her glare could have leveled a town, but I was used to it by now. Every time I spoke to her about Royce and his obvious anger issues, she shut me down entirely.

"He's just like father was! Jealous, controlling, and dangerous."

"He is not. He's anxious about the aftermath of the war is all. It's very taxing on the soldiers. He'll calm down once things smooth over. I promise," she said with a hint of hope in her voice. I just rolled my eyes. It was always some kind of excuse. 'Oh, he's just stressed about the war." or 'his parents are pressuring him to find work outside of the military,' blah blah blah. I knew an aggressive man when I saw one, I had grown up with one as a father for 18 years now.

"He hasn't laid a hand on you, has he?" I ask for the hundredth time. I hated Royce King with all my being. He was an angry, bitter man, but if he ever hurt Rose, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from retaliating.

"No, Isabella. Now would you please be happy for me. He's handsome and wealthy. Plus, he agreed to let you stay with us for a little while. Until you've found your own man," she said quickly, as she continued to brush through her long, thick, golden hair.

I huffed and folded my arms across my body, slouching further into the delicate sofa located in the King's manor. Yes, manor. Apparently, some King family relatives got into the oil drilling business right when it began in the late 1850's, which has been funding their extravagant lifestyles ever since.

I knew a major part of why Rosalie agreed to marry this pathetic man was because he could support her, my mother, and I. Our father, William, had died a year earlier from drinking himself to death and left us with no money to support ourselves at all. I had been working at the local tailor's while my mother and Rose were domestic servants for higher class folks, but we were barely getting by.

When Rose agreed to take on a job helping the King family, we never expected one of the sons to take such a keen liking to her. While Rose states it was love at first sight, I'm positive it's more about the money for her and the beauty and timing for him.

See, Royce was about to be shipped off to some boarding school out in Ohio just a few weeks before he met Rose. He was a violent man that often started fights over nothing. Everyone from the milkman to the neighbors to his schoolmates, he'd somehow, at some point in time, been in a fight with. He had dirtied the King name so many times due to his aggressive attitude and impolite behavior, he was often called Killer King, which goes to show just how awful of a person he is.

When he introduced Rose, the stunning blue-eyed doe I call my sister, to his parents and announced they wanted to get married, the Kings were ecstatic. They could care less that we were poor peasants with a dead father who had been known for his incredibly high alcohol tolerance, they were just happy Royce would soon be starting his own family and be out of their hair.

"Do you remember how charming dad could be?" I muttered. Rose's hand faltered slightly, but she continued brushing as if nothing was said.

"Because I do," I continued, "I remember how he'd come home with toys and books and treats for us. How excited we all would be that he was in such a good mood, how he wasn't drunk…" I stopped for a second. A sudden wave of emotion forcing its way into my throat without warning.

"I also remember how I accidentally ripped the page of one of the books he brought home. It barely tore, just the small corner near the spiral. I had been too excited. Too overwhelmed with energy that we had just gotten such amazing gifts that I turned the page too quickly and well, you know what happened next."

We both flinched as I lifted my hand to lightly brush over my left eyebrow, still able to feel the ghost throbbing of where the book had been vaulted at me, making contact and leaving a decent sized gash in my father's destructive path.

"Men like father, like Royce, aren't good people. They can't make everything better with charming words and actions, Rosalie. They may be able to patch up some injuries, say 'sorry' or 'it'll never happen again', but you and I both know that's only a temporary fix and more often than not, worse is yet to come." As I said this, I felt a tinge of guilt. I knew what I was saying was harsh and could be phrased differently, but at this moment, all I could think about was my sister's safety.

Rose set down her brush and stood from her seat at the vanity where she had been getting ready for the day. She came over and gently nudged me to sit on the ground in front of her, with my back facing her. I did as she wanted and settled on the ground with a thud on the soft, plush blue carpet of her new room.

Everything around me was new and expensive. The vanity where she had just been sitting was a beautiful pearl color with intricate gold detailing. The walls were a simple pale yellow, almost white, with dark cobalt fabric drapes surrounding the two massive bay windows in her room. Her wardrobe and surrounding furniture all matched the vanity, giving the whole room a very wealthy, royal aurora. This was our new home, yet I had never felt so lost.

She took some of my long mane of hair into her hands and began to braid.

We sat in silence, while I enjoyed the feeling of her hands gently pulling my hair this way and that. In that moment, I felt as though we were back when we were just kids, sitting in our tiny room, taking turns braiding our hair in ways that made us look elegant and high society.

Rose was the first to break the silence. "Nothing is going to happen to me, Bells."

"You don't know that," I said sharply. She gripped my hair just a little too tightly before letting go with obvious annoyance.

"I'm done having this conversation with you. I'm marrying Royce in two weeks, you're going to be at the wedding, I'll head off to my honeymoon, and we'll start our lives actually living, not just surviving. Please, Isabella, just...be happy for me. Please?" Rose pleaded softly.

I closed my eyes tightly, drawing in an exaggerated breath. I hated myself for giving in so easily, I hated myself for not fighting with her more about this. Maybe if I had, things would have been different.

Instead, all I said was, "fine."

...

Two weeks later

I sat on one of the white, iron chairs as I watched three women with huge hats flirt with some of the groom's party. I had always been curious as to why wealthy women felt the need to wear such extravagant, ugly, accessories. Wouldn't it be more attractive, and comfortable to wear...not a giant hat with fruit and lace and pearls and who knows what else, on the tops of their heads?

I snickered into my champagne as a fake bird fell out of one of the women's hats and into the glass that belonged to the man she had been flirting with.

"Isabella, wipe that wicked grin off your face and sit up straight," my mother quipped. She had been incredibly anxious throughout the entire wedding and was taking it out on me apparently.

"Yes ma'am," was all I said in response as I sat up and adjusted my very large, too pink of a skirt. I didn't want to get into an argument today, not on Rosie's 'big day'.

I looked over at Rose, who had been attached to Royce's arm for the entire night and watched in apprehension. They looked happy, beautiful even. Rose was in a gorgeous white gown with intricate beading on the bodice. It was late October, so there was a slight chill in the air, which was why she was currently wearing a large ivory fur wrap. The skirt of her dress was a simple satin with the train billowing out a few feet behind her. She was an angel. An angel in the hands of the devil himself.

My gaze shifted to Royce. His boisterous laugh filled the air in an obnoxious, ear-splitting manner, but maybe that was just how I saw it. Some would say he looked handsome in his perfectly tailored black tuxedo, but to me, he looked like a knockoff Picasso; beautiful on the outside but made of false hopes and deceptive thought.

"Stop sneering at him, Isabella. You don't want your face to get stuck that way, do you?"

I huffed and threw my head back in annoyance.

"No, ma'am."

"Good, now try and be happy for your sister and stop worrying so much. You're already getting wrinkles and you've yet to find a young man to settle down with yourself," she muttered the last bit mostly to herself, but I couldn't stop myself from sticking my tongue out at her anyways.

She gasped but bit back a laugh. She always tried to come off as a well-mannered, respectable mother who had complete control of every aspect of her life. I knew, however, just how much she loved laughing and messing around with Rose and me. It was a huge reason I loved her so much.

"Really, Bells, sticking out your tongue? At our mother for that matter?" Rose's voice sounded. I grinned and looked to my left in order to see her. The smile quickly disappeared when I saw Royce.

"Rose...Royce," I addressed. Rose glared at me as if daring me to make a nasty comment towards her new husband.

"Isabella, that's no way to be treating your mother. Maybe you need to be reminded of the proper way to act at a high society function such as this," Royce said, trying to act as though he was teasing but meaning every word he said.

I bit my lip harshly to prevent the onslaught of terms I would like to shove up his high society ass.

"Royce and I were just talking about leaving soon, for our honeymoon that is," Rose rushed out in an effort to ease the very apparent tension.

"Oh dear! You're going to have a wonderful time. With the war over, traveling will be so much easier. And Paris! Oh, I've always wanted to go! You'll have to write us, dear, please," my mother gushed as she clasped her hands over Rose's.

Rose and Royce would be traveling to Paris for two months for their honeymoon. Once the reception calmed down, they would be heading off right away to start their new lives as a married couple, starting in Paris.

As my mother and Rose continued to talk about Paris, I watched Royce with hard eyes. He caught me staring and a sickly grin spread over his face as he gripped Rose closer to him in an obvious move to make me angry.

"Royce, could I speak with you for a moment?" I said curtly. Rose immediately stiffened, as did my mother, but Royce's grin deepened.

"Of course, Isabella," he responded. He lifted Rose's hand and kissed it, eyes glued to mine, before waving his hand in a manner that told me to lead the way.

"Be nice," Rose whispered to me as I walked past her. I didn't respond but kept my eyes forward. I was determined to speak my mind, at least once, before they left the country. I wouldn't be able to survive a whole two months without at least trying to make sure my sister was safe.

I stomped over to the bar, which was surprisingly calm at the moment, and turned to face Royce. He was right behind me, too close for comfort, with a large smirk plastered to his face. I took a startled step backward, surprised by his close proximity, but that only encouraged him to take a step closer.

"Now, Isabella, my dear sister-in-law, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He breathed out. The smell of whiskey wafted over my face and I held back a gag that threatened to sneak out.

"I don't like you, I never have, and I know you know that. I just wanted to make sure you know I'll always be watching you. So, don't make any stupid decisions in regard to my sister and her safety," I clipped out. I squared my shoulders and stood to my fullest height in hopes that I came off somewhat intimidating. All I got in response was a loud bellow.

"Oh, Isabella, you'll be watching me, hmm? I can't say I won't mind that," Royce taunted as he just barely skimmed my inner arm with his fingertips. I flinched away and pressed myself as close to the bar as I could, which wasn't much further than where I had been.

I glanced over and Rose and saw she was immersed in conversation with our mother, once again. I was both relieved she wasn't bearing witness to this interaction as well as frightened from the way Royce was acting. I turned back towards him, jaw set and tense.

"I'm serious. I've heard the way you speak to her; how aggressive you can be. Your reputation with the community precedes you. You're just like our father and I want you to know that I'm fully aware of this. I won't let you treat her the way he did."

His eyes darkened slightly, and his smirk turned into a scowl. I hoped my fear wasn't as evident as I felt it was. I tried to keep my trembling from showing too clearly. He dipped his head down to level our eyes. I heard his teeth grit together.

"What'll you do, Isabella? Nothing. There's nothing you can do. You live in my house, as does your mother. Without me, your entire family will be homeless and poor, once again. When I found Rose, you were all barely surviving. You wouldn't have made it one more winter if I hadn't taken you in. You wouldn't threaten your family's chance at life, would you, darling?"

All I could do was glare back at him. I was stuck. If he were to ever hurt Rose, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from seeking vengeance, yet if I spoke to Rose one more time about this issue, made claims that Royce was being too aggressive for my liking, what would come of it? People would scoff and say I was being ungrateful, that I should be happy one of us found someone to support the family. Rose would be furious.

If I were to ever try and make things right, Royce would drop us immediately. I didn't have a problem with this, but I knew Rose and my mother would. We had been barely surviving, and Royce was right, we wouldn't have made it through another winter. We couldn't afford a stable house, let alone a solid furnace to keep us alive. I hated to admit it, but we needed Royce just as much as he needed us.

I opened my mouth to retaliate, to tell him just what an awful, condescending, evil person he was, but Rose had saddled up next to him just in time.

"Should we be going, honey? I don't want to be late," Rose asked in a sweet voice. As she spoke to him, she glanced over at me with questioning eyes. I avoided making contact at all costs.

I was frustrated with myself for getting so clearly shaken by my encounter with Royce. After living with my father for so many years, I had learned how to stand up for myself, how to protect both myself as well as my family. For some reason, Royce reminded me so much of father it was as though my mind was unable to differentiate the two.

"Yes, I guess you're right. Go say your goodbyes and change into the outfit I have laid out for you in your room," Royce responded, his voice arrogant and loud, obviously wanting some attention.

Rose's cheeks darkened slightly from the clear dominant behavior Royce was exhibiting, but to my annoyance, she did as she was told.

She moved closer to me, embraced me in her arms, and squeezed to a point of slight discomfort. Tears built in my eyes against my will as I embraced her just as tightly. I inhaled her scent deeply, trying to commit it to memory. It was fruity, with a slight tang that was just...Rose.

She loosened her grip slightly, but not all together, and rested her forehead against mine before saying, "you're my best friend Isabella Hale, the light of my world. I love you, please be safe while I'm away. I can't bare anything happening to you while I'm away."

I moved my hands to lightly grip her shoulders, "only if you promise as well."

"Of course," was all she whispered back.

If only I had stopped her from leaving. If only I had refused to let her marry that man, to force her to see who he truly was, maybe things would have been different. If only.

...

Two months later

The months Rose and Royce had been gone were interesting. I no longer had to work at the tailor's, but I found myself continuing to do so anyway. I didn't know what to do with myself with all the free time I had. I was never one to be social or extroverted, so I rarely met with others my age. I found it difficult to connect with others, so I would find myself at the library or work rather than talking about marriage and dress sizes with my peers.

I'd also taken up piano. The King's had a beautiful grand piano in their living room that no one ever used. They'd purchased it for Royce when he was a child and was taking lessons. He ended up making so many of the instructors run away crying that they decided to end his practices.

Lucky for me, they kept the thing all this time. Probably as a symbol of their wealth, but I loved the thing nonetheless.

My mother took the time off to relax and for once, not worry about my sister and me. She roamed around the manor and the huge, extravagant garden located in the back. She took up knitting and helped the maids with random tasks. Mrs. King always scowled when she did this, as she saw the maids as lesser folk, but seeing as my mother was born into poverty and once worked as a domestic servant, she could never see them this way.

The time went by slowly at first, but once we received the first letter from Rose, her beautiful penmanship scrawled out across some French postcard, I could breathe again. Maybe I was just overreacting. I knew Royce wasn't an amazing, kind-hearted man, but maybe I was being paranoid due to the past interactions I had with my father.

I could only hope.

Today was finally the day that they were scheduled to return. The exact time was fuzzy, seeing as travel time between countries was heavily dependent on the weather and sailing conditions, but I knew it would be any time now.

And I couldn't wait to see Rosie.

I grinned to myself at just the mere thought of finally seeing her after so long. There was so much I wanted to tell her about. So much I wanted to hear. This was the longest we had ever been apart so having this trip finally end was an incredible relief.

I decided to head to the library for most of the day, hoping some light reading would distract me from my overpowering excitement. I had learned to read at a young age, picking it up quicker than my peers. While my father had little interest in mine and Rose's education, my mother made it her top priority. She always told us that if we wanted to make it in a world designed for men, we'd at least need a solid education to keep us in the running.

"Well someone's happy today." I hear from behind me. I look up to see Henry, the son of the tailor I worked for, walking towards me.

I had always liked Henry, as a friend. He was handsome and nice, but there was just no...spark. As cliché as that may sound, I was a closet romantic and could only hope someday I'd be able to find that special someone. The one that makes my heart beat unsteadily, that makes me blush with just small side glances and who makes me never want to stop smiling.

Who knows if that actually exists, but one can only hope I guess.

"Hi, Henry," I say politely. Don't get me wrong, he's a wonderful man, but he's way more taken with me than I am with him. I try to be nice while also obvious about my disinterest in him romantically, I'm pretty sure he hasn't caught on.

"What's a pretty lady like you doing with all these books? Nothing better to do?" He asked, taking the book I was reading and looking at the cover. My eyes narrowed in annoyance. What, I can't be attractive and love to read? Men these days are so narrow-minded.

"Pride and Prejudice, huh? A romantic, are ya? I never would have thought Isabella Hale would be a closet romantic," he teasingly chided. I just roll my eyes and turn back towards my book. I hoped he would get the hint and either take up reading himself or hit the road, but no, he continued on.

"I've never been into the classics myself, but my mother and sister love this book. I'm more into reading the news or books about the war of course."

As he spoke, I tried to keep my facial expression neutral, but it was a struggle. Henry was one of those men that loved to hear themselves talk. He was never mean or impolite, just...boring. I think he liked me so much because I rarely engaged in conversation, just let him ramble on with a few "mhmm's" and "hmm's" thrown in here and there.

It was a good twenty minutes into the one-sided conversation, one that I truly had no clue was about, when something Henry said sparked my interest.

"Wait, hold on, what did you just say?" I interject quickly, hoping to catch his train of thought before he moved on to some other topic on his list of infinite possibilities.

"I said, I'm surprised to see you here, seeing as the ship your sister and brother-in-law arrived on has docked. I would've thought you- hey!" I was up and sprinting towards the library exit before he was even able to finish his sentence.

"Sorry Henry, I have to run! See you at work!" I said as I continued down the stairs and into the road. I nearly slammed right into the paperboy as I crossed the street hastily and I vaulted over a stray dog passing by the market. I didn't care how crazed or absurd I looked at that moment, all I could think about was my sister and being able to see her, safe and well and as beautiful as ever.

I rounded the corner to the harbor where all the passenger ships would dock when arriving and saw the massive ship I knew Rose would be arriving on. She told me to look for the biggest ship I'd ever seen and that would be the one they were on. It wasn't much to go off of, and at the time, I thought I would never find it but now, looking up at the gigantic ship that floated in front of me, I couldn't stop my jaw from dropping.

I squeezed my way past swarms of people, trying to make my way closer to the passenger exit, all the while keeping my eyes steady on the wooden aisle leading off the ship in hopes that I would see Rose.

People had already begun filtering off and I felt a slight pang of panic that I had missed her. She would be furious if I didn't meet her at the dock, I knew it.

I continued to scramble around hopelessly, looking for the golden blonde hair that I knew was my sisters. At first, my excitement overtook all my emotions. I was giddy and nervous and all I could think about was seeing her, making sure she was okay.

Then, worry began to set in. Passengers were no longer disembarking. There were still tons of people greeting one another and looking for loved ones, so I assumed I have just missed her. After nearly 45 minutes of scoping and running around in circles, the panic set in.

Where was she? Where was Royce? Was this the ship she had mentioned to me? Had I mistaken the day? Maybe she had already left and was safe at home, waiting to scold me for being late once I returned.

I continued to look, hoping I would catch a glimpse of her or Royce. Deep down I knew something was wrong. My mind had come to the realization, my heart, not so much.

I ran. As fast as my feet could carry me. Without any thought for those around me or the safety of myself. I just...ran.

Once I arrived home, the sun had begun to set, and the entire house was dark except for one lone light in the main eating quarters.

I instantly knew something was wrong.

Rose loved to make an entrance. The house would be radiating with the warmth of her return, instead, it looked cold and bleak. Like no one had lived there for quite some time.

I slowed my sprint to a steady walk, which then turned to a shuffle once I reached the front entrance. For some reason, without even truly knowing what had happened, I already knew I didn't want to enter the house.

I took a steadying breath and pushed the heavy iron door open with a clank.

"Mother?" Was the first thing I said when I walked through the dark halls of the King manor.

"Rose?" I called. Nothing.

I wandered into the dining hall, where I had previously seen a flicker of light when I arrived, hoping to find someone, anyone, to tell me this ache in my chest was all for nothing. That Rose was home, waiting for me in her bedroom.

I found my mother sitting at the table with one of the maids she had bonded with, lightly rubbing her back. A steaming cup of tea and tissue lay in front of her.

"Mom," I said again, much quieter this time. She sniffled and looked over at me with red-rimmed eyes. In all my years, through the abuse my father put all of us through, even when we were so deep in poverty and we could barely see the light, I had never seen my mother look so heartbroken.

My heart jumped to my throat, my stomach clenching in pain. I knew before she even said the words. I knew before Rose had even left for this trip. I knew the day I met Royce that this would happen.

My mother opened her mouth and choked out three words that altered my life forever.

"Rose is dead."

A/N:

Eek! So what did you all think? Let me know, let me know, let me know! I'm serious. If you see anything that's grammatically wrong, you have some constructive feedback, or you liked it, LET ME KNOW! I would love to hear from you all.

So, as you can tell, this chapter jumped around a lot. Like a lot, a lot. That's how the first few chapters are going to be. This story is about both Rose and Bella's relationship, as well as her's and Edward's, but I have a lot of backstory I want to add as well. So, for the next few (like around 4) chapters, time is going to fly by. Once we reach the point in the story I want to develop more on, things will settle down.

I do want to mention that I have like 40,000 words written for this story already. It kind of all just came crashing to me one night and I haven't been able to stop writing since. So, that being said, I'll try to update consistently since a lot of the story is already written. The only thing I have to do is edit a lot of it, which is pretty hard for me honestly. I have not beta so I'm kind of shooting shit here. So please, again, let me know if you see any issues. I really want to know!

I hope you all liked this and I really hope you do leave me some love. I've never written a fanfiction before but I've sure as hell read a lot so I have some idea of how this all works and I know I'd love to hear from you all.

Eek! Okay, I hope you loved this beginning chapter, I'll update very soon!

BYE!