Darkness. There is nothing but darkness as the storm pours around me and my life blood drains away. I feel so used and just, exhausted. I shouldn't be acknowledging the fact that I'm exhausted, I should be twisting in pain or at least blacking out but unconsciousness continues to evade me as I lie there, bleeding on the cobbles of the street, still by the bar.
They had used me, beaten me and taken advantage of me and I could do nothing to stop them as they were so much more powerful and there were more of them.
If only I had asked to be escorted home by William, or called Father.
I had trusted Royce. Vera had often warned me against him, saying that William had seen him drunk in the pub, but I refused to listen and refused to believe her, blinded by my foolish pride.
And now, here I lie, bleeding on the cobbles and musing over how long it will take me to die.
I wonder what death feels like. Does it feel like a knife, stabbing you suddenly and twisting around, making the pain swell until it swallows you whole? Or is it a soft, warm blanket, cuddling you softly into its pillow like embrace and guiding you slowly to Death's Door?
The rain is falling hard onto me and a small part of me is distraught, wondering what state my hair is in and how badly my make-up has run. Of course I shouldn't be worrying about that, like I shouldn't still be worrying about moving the wedding indoors.
How am I even still thinking about the wedding? Royce just broke me and still my thoughts centre on the wedding, my dress, the flower, just everything I shouldn't be thinking about right now.
My thoughts should probably be of my family. Mother and father will go crazy with worry when I do not return soon and a search party will be sent out, probably. But will they find me in time? I doubt that, as I am starting to see small black dots appearing in front of my eyes, obscuring the blood in front of me and the clothes scattered around me.
If I move my arm slightly I can see the bruises starting to blossom across the pale skin of my stomach and breasts. There are clear fingerprints, in deep purples and blues, but no-one will ever suspect Royce of doing such a thing to his fiancée. They never would. We had been the perfect couple, the envy of everyone wherever we went because apart we were beautiful yet together we were just perfect. I'm not being vain, everyone tells me how handsome my fiancé is and what beautiful children we will have together.
Of course now I will never have children. I believe I have only moments left in this life before I pass on and finds out the answers to my question, what is Death like?
Maybe if I'm lucky someone will investigate the bruises on my body and take some samples that will lead them to Royce. But then of course he would simple use his position and money to keep it quiet. A small funeral will be held for me perhaps, private of course. Everyone and everything will be dressed in black, the guests, the horse and carriage, the flowers. Simple yet beautiful.
Now my thoughts turn to Royce, the memories of seeing him for the first time and then the flowers, every night. So many bouquets that they filled the entire house with their fragrance, transfixing everyone able to smell the enchanting smell. Going out with Royce, to balls, races, for walks in the park. He'd hold my hand or have his arm around my waist, occasionally giving me loving glances or sweet kisses when he believe no-one was looking. He'd have small glasses of champagne, telling me he wasn't too keen on it. Before now I had believed he just meant alcohol in general but now it's clear that he preferred a heavier drink. The drink that lead to this. Lying on the cobbles with my lifeblood slowly draining out of me.
If only someone were able to hear me, just in these last few minutes. I would simply say everything that comes to mind.
Dear Vera, my very dearest friend from childhood, how will you take the news when you hear of my death? What will little Henry make of the death of his god-mother? Of course he will not understand now but when he's older perhaps…
Father I'm sorry I never said goodbye properly. You were tearful about your little girl growing up and getting married. I thought you silly and barely kissed you goodbye before I fled from the house this morning, not wanting to deal with your emotions. And now here I lie, in the street, wishing you would appear and kiss me goodbye, just one last time.
Mother, dear mother. How distraught will you be when they find me? Your only daughter, your blessing as you say from time to time, left for dead on the street, bruises covering her naked body? Left with only two sons and a husband to comfort you when all you wish to hear is the voice of your sweet daughter. I'm sorry mother, I couldn't stop them.
I can hear the shouts now, and there seems to be a faint light up ahead. They will find me soon, I believe, if they come down this dark alley. But it is doubtful they will think to look here, what would a woman such as myself be doing among the rubbish and the rats?
A faint footstep sounds at the head of the alley and then I hear a softly muttered curse as someone crouches beside my head. The exhaustion overcomes me and my eyes close. I feel as if I am about to go to sleep, a very long sleep.
"Oh my Miss Hale." The voice murmurs and I struggle to open my eyes. Eventually I see a faint figure staring down at me, pale skin glowing in the faint light of the streetlamp. My eyes focus and I see an angel, ready to take me to heaven.
This is an entry for the Rosalie one-shot competition in the forum The Two Sides Of Twilight. Please vote for me if you enjoyed it.
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