From the day I was born, I led a charmed, opulent life. My parents loved me, well, everyone did. Everywhere I went eyes watched me, taking in my golden beauty. I soaked it up, reveled in it. I was in my element. Rosalie Hale, the most envied girl in Rochester.
I was born in the spring, the first child of three. My mother saw me, and said that I was her beautiful Rose, and named me Rosalie. My father readily agreed. They doted on me, so that I was exceedingly spoiled, and by the age of five, had learned that my beauty manipulated people. Countless people were enchanted by me, my flaxen hair, my deep, warm brown eyes. I always got what I want. Poor people were all around us, because of the Depression, and I sneered at them. They had nothing, while, I , Rosalie Hale, had everything. My father had told me that they were poor because of their own shortcomings and failures, so our family had a thick air of superiority whenever we looked disdainfully at the suffering and impoverished. I had a happy life, everything that I wanted was handed to me on a silver platter.
"I'm getting married to him, Rose!"
My closest friend Vera looked at me, checking for the approval and affirmation that every girl looked for in me.
"That's great," I replied absentmindedly. "I know that you will be happy with him."
I was not jealous, I had my own flock of suitors. Almost every man of appropriate age was seeking my hand. I delighted in teasing them, wrapped around my fingers, eating out of the palm of my hand, I toyed with their affections. There was one suitor that I liked very much, Royce King. His golden hair reflected the sunlight whenever he walked eagerly towards me, while I would sitr on the porch and wait. I did not like to reveal my emotions too much, but I couldn't help it sometimes with Royce. I grinned.