I know that this idea has already been done, but I couldn't help but re-do this idea; with all the morbidity and gore that Rosalie deserves to put upon Royce. This will be a one-shot of how Rosalie killed Royce King Junior … in his point of view! How exciting. I dedicate this story to all the women like me who have been wronged by a man. Fight back girls.
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Rosalie Lillian Hale; the woman I killed. I regret killing her. I miss her warm smile, her determined eyes, and her reassurance. I don't know what came over me that night. Oh right; drunkenness. Was my being drunk not enough of an excuse?! If she didn't really want to have that fate, she would have stopped us. She could have stopped us. Right?
What caused me such great pleasure that night? As I pounded into her virgin body, took away her purity as my friends looked on, I felt on top of the world. "Please, Royce! Please stop!" she would cry. Did she not realize? She was mine. Her façade wasn't working on me. I owned her. She was a toy. She would bring credibility to the King name. I never loved the whore. She was a fun toy to play with, and then I grew bored of her.
But now I miss her. And I killed her. I would never have married her after that. I don't marry whores, and that's exactly what she became. She had many more men inside of her in the same night. She was no longer pure. I wouldn't have married her, sure, but I still could have used her more. But now I can't.
Now my friends are dead. The friends that were with me that night. The friends that made her a whore. These men are now all mysteriously dead of murder. No blood was ever let lose, but they all died with extreme force of brutality. Who else could it have been, if not Rosalie? My Rosie is a murderess.
But how can she be? Rosalie can't be dead girl walking, right? Then again, who else would have motivation to use such brute force to kill my friends?
If nothing happens, I'll feel silly for doing so, but if something does happen, then thank God I have done so; I locked myself up, with armed guards and the lot. A soundproof, metal chamber with just me, a bed, TV, and lots of whiskey. Maybe if I drink enough, I'll not be as afraid.
Suddenly I heard a "tsk tsk" coming from the corner of my bed. And there sit Rose. Her long, beautiful blond hair lay on her shoulders in a beautiful manor. Her skin is a creamy white, and she looked indestructible. Her voice sounded pure, like the sound of a soft, running stream in the Garden of Eden. She wore a wedding dress that accentuated her figure. But none of these things were what shocked me. It was her piercing, blood red eyes that sent chills up my spine. Fuck.
"Hello Royce. Remember me? Do you remember raping me, along with your scumbag friends? Oh, what am I saying? Of course you do!" Oh, lovely. She's going to be melodramatic. If I wasn't scared shitless, I might actually laugh at the childishness of the charade. But, of course, having a beautiful dead woman sit there with the intent to kill you is going to be the main focus.
"Oh, Royce, one thing that might be shocking is that, after I was saved, I lost so much of my naïvity. But I also lost much of my innocence. I'm sure you know of your friend's fates … hmm …" She had a facial expression that she was musing over good times with childhood friends as she mentioned them. "Of course it was me who killed them. I rather enjoyed it, too. You kill me, I kill you …"
Why is she here? Why is she still alive? Why is she so perpetually beautiful? At least I know one thing about this; why she wants to kill me. "How … ho-" "Oh, of course!" She chuckled to herself, "I'm a vampire. Remember the Cullen's? They are too! The good Dr. Cullen saved me, bit me firm on the neck 'till I ended up like this. Neat, huh?" Her mock enthusiasm was frightfully wicked.
"Anyways … as I was saying, I tortured your friends to death. Was sure not to make them bleed, though; don't want to be tempted to drink their blood. To have you inside me …" Remember, babe? I was inside you. "… Would just ruin me. I can't have something as sick and disgusting as you inside me. Oh, but don't worry. This'll be a night to remember." That's what I was afraid of.
She then stepped off of the bed, and glided over to me, more graceful then I ever could imagine. Just like the rest of the Cullens. Fuck. She grabbed my hand, gently, like an angel taking one to heaven. But I knew that wouldn't happen. She then took my fingers, and spread them out, one by one. She drew circles in the palm of my hand with her finger. It felt good, but I knew better. She was just drawing this out.
She then grabbed one of my fingers between her thumb and forefinger, and pinched. She pinched like you would pinch a piece of fluff off of your clothing. But that was enough. With a crack, my finger was broken. One by one she did this.
"Did that feel good, Royce?" She laughed, sounding like bells and wind chimes. "Maybe I aught to do your feet, too, then!" And she did. I screamed, and screamed, and screamed. This bitch is crazy!
"Royce, dear, your back looks a little tense! Let me fix that for you!" She went behind me, and massaged by back. This, too, felt great, but I knew better then to believe it would last. Squeeze. Crack. Scream. She seemed to enjoy that, the sound of my scream. "Oh, Royce, now I see why you did what you did to me; the sound of someone screaming in agony is just so wonderful!" She let another bell-laugh ring again.
She did this continuously, all through the night. I regret the sound proof room. Of course, she could probably kill anybody who would come to help me, anyways. So basically, no matter what, I was fucked. Nice.
Suddenly, as it was nearing morning, she said "Well this was nice catching up, wasn't it, Royce? Sadly, we can't do this again!" And she threw me into the wall, letting me fall to the floor, and watched me grimace in pain. She then stepped on my chest, slowly, crushing my heart into paste. Then it all went black …