Warning: You've read the books. You know how Rosalie is turned. The sin I've chosen for her is lust, so you can imagine what it will be about. I've tried to keep it relatively tasteful, but for some of you who truly understand what happened to her, this may trigger…
The laughter has faded from his face…from all the air around him. He dies again, and clings to the one who brought him out of the night in the beginning. She tenses as he wraps himself around her and her eyes become cold an expectant. His sins hang heavy in the air around them, and hers are buried deep still, waiting to be unearthed. She glares at me from the shelter of his arms.
I stare at her face for a long time, picking her thoughts from her troubled mind. Her story is the most difficult to tell, this beauty queen that followed me third into the dark. She is the epitome of sensuality…the erotic hidden within the mundane. The wild desire in every heart and every mind she encounters. I call her Sister. My eyes are blind to her in every other way.
Her eyes grant the permission that her heart denies so fiercely and her story is mine to relive. I brace myself for the pain. She curls closer to her lover, my Brother, and she is lost for a moment in his understanding embrace. Her passion fills the room, and fills his eyes with only her. This is a past he knows and one she bears because she must. She's lost the ability to dream, and finally, she lives among the shattered. An eternity of wishing for another life…gone. And now she cannot see the use of holding something close.
Her desire for him burns those around her as her memories burn into my mind…Such a precious contradiction, the pain of mortal innocence and the pleasure of immortal mystery. She had kept that innocence in a porcelain heart, and pulled it out when she needed it—innocence that was sacrificed to the impulse of another…purity that was taken for the sake of pride.
She watches me from beneath her lover's lips…observes the pain of her death on the face of another…her brother. She allows the humiliation to blossom in my expression. Her arms, her lips, her body have gone to another place, but her eyes remain fixed icily on mine. I see it once again. I understand it once again. They stole from her an eternity of sleep, but nothing could keep away the nightmares…of struggling…of crying…of pleading for an end that would never come, and trying to escape their weight.
They held her down and stole the heart she hid inside. They introduced her to the darkness, and now she will never fully understand the light. They initiated the pain that stole away all of her emotion. They pushed themselves violently into every memory that she held dear and took them all by force.
I hold her gaze as she folds further into my Brother's arms. The passion she feels for him keeps the pain from burning her alive, but they're all still inside her head at times...Still holding her there, frozen in the moment…Still whispering that it only hurts once. She knows that everything is a lie, because the pain is still there. When her lover is not with her to turn the pain into pleasure…when she is alone in those quiet moments and they violate her mind, and those broken human memories dominate, it will always hurt.
They are stronger than she thought. Strong enough to hurt her still in all of her immortal glory. Strong enough to make their laughter heard from the shallow graves she left them in.
She clings to her lover…to everything that he has become for her. She holds tight to every second of the love and desire that he awakens within her, remembering a time before the light when she could not feel. She's lost the ability to dream. She's lost the control that she had so completely relied upon. She's lost the reality that was falling down around her anyway. But finally, she lives among the shattered. And it will never go away.
I look at the beautiful woman in my arms who is waiting to hear the tale of the one who stood by her side through the birth of our child. She is the wild desire of all my eternity…the mother of my child and the possessor of whatever part of my soul that remains. I remember the thoughts of the men who would have done the same to her…sickened, hurting, filled with the thoughts of rapists and murderers, I begin my Sister's tale:
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