I do not own Twilight – it belongs to Stephenie Meyer.


Forever and Always

September, 2008

Twenty. You're twenty, you're an adult, you're mature, responsible. You think you're on top of the world; you can march wherever you want. Your bodies are invincible, your minds unconquerable. You have power, you have independence. You party hard, you sleep late, you abuse your health. You're young, you're foolish, you're terrifying. Do you remember when we were twenty, Emmett? It was the end, the end of everything. Twenty, it was the year the truth was exposed, the year our lies killed us. In every, everysense of the word.

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Do you remember when we were twenty, Emmett? I presume you would, it was a pretty important year, pretty significant.

They say when you die, Emmett, that your life flashes before your eyes. But I don't believe this. Those moments before death comes for you, those cold, silent seconds, you look at yourself; you look at your life. You examine the time of during your birth till your death and you realise that the years of your childhood, you have experienced the world, your innocence has been tainted, your memories, dreams fulfilled. You have developed, grown, experienced. And those moments, those moments of waiting for death, of sitting in the dark, you decide. You decide for yourself, are you proud of your efforts? Did you live life to the fullest? Do you have regrets?

Do you remember when we were twenty, Emmett? It was the year I decided that, yeah, I was proud of my life, I was proud of what I had become, of what I had grown up to be. And that? Well that's pretty amazing.

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Do you remember when we were twenty, Emmett? Surely you would, it was quite a memorable year, a year of . . . change. Do you remember when we were twenty, Emmett?

It was the year we died.

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My heels clacked self-importantly on the tiles, my posture high, my lips pursed. The blonde ringlets curled graciously around my shoulder blades, my red dress barely skimming my thighs, barely covering the underwear. Slut, whore, they whispered. But I was neither of those; I was merely a small, terrified girl. Afraid of the world, afraid of the consequences.
I approached the white door, the handle standing to attention, sparkly amongst the bright light. 'Hello?' I had called, afraid of a response, afraid of no response. I winced as my voice echoed around the walls, bouncing off of the roof.

Four, three, two steps away. My neat hand lifted graciously, pushing slightly on the handle.

I remember the next part; it sticks with me, imprinted in my mind. 'Oh, Apryl,' I had sighed, looking at the young girl.

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People judge me, they judge me on appearances, attitude. They don't take the time, that's what hurts the most. If you stood me, Rosalie Hale, against Apryl Sawyer, you would scoff, you would snarl, you would judge. Innocent Apryl, kind Apryl, calm Apryl. Arrogant Rosalie, snob Rosalie, scary Rosalie. I'd lost all ties to my family; I'd lost any nonexistent friends. All I had was Emmett, and even him I was beginning to lose. I had nothing, I didn't have pride, I didn't have wits. I had given up long, long ago. You judge me against Apryl Sawyer, and you'd end up very, very wrong.

Apryl, liar. Apryl, cheater. Apryl, conniving bitch.

Rosalie, afraid. Rosalie, alone. Rosalie, hopeless.

Sometimes you have to dig deeper, sometimes you have to sit down with a person, find out about them, learn their past. Sometimes you have to try;sometimes you have to have patience. I've done wrong, I have regrets. But sometimes you have to move on, sometimes you have no choice.

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I took in the scene before my eyes. Apryl, her hands all over a man. A man who was not at all that of Emmett. A stranger, a cheater. This girl, this girl with red hair and grey eyes, was not at all of who she appeared to be. This girl was the real Apryl Sawyer, this liar, this cheater, this sinner.

'Fuck off,' Apryl had whispered, her voice mocking, full of venom. And I took those charming words of advice as I left the room, leaving her behind, leaving her to the past. I ran, I ran for Emmett, I ran for truth, I ran for childhood, I ran for innocence.

Do you remember when we were twenty, Emmett? It was the year we discovered the truth. The year that I was proved right. Apryl was not to be trusted; she was a liar, a judger, a user. This innocent, calm, kind girl was nothing but smoke and mirrors. Set up to ruin people's lives.

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Do you remember when we were twenty, Emmett? It was the year that you believed your little friendover me, you believed her over me, over your best friend, your life long friend. The only friend who cared enough to tell. The only friend who took the time to tell you the truth.

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'Emmett,' I had sobbed, I had one broken heel, mud covered my legs, my dress, my pride. 'Emmett,' I had screamed, reaching the broad man. I slammed into him, grabbing his shirt, forcing him to turn, to face me. And then it hit me, just like that. Do you remember when we were twenty, Emmett? It was the year I realised that you had, that we both, had grown up. That we'd changed, morphed, developed. We were no longer five year olds, swinging our legs from trees, no longer ten year olds with minor crushes, thirteen year olds with ego issues, sixteen year olds with appearance problems. We were adults, we were mature, we were alive.

'Rosalie?' Emmett had frowned, looking down at my face, the smudged make up, the damaged pride. 'Rose, what's wrong?' his face was so full of childish concern, so full of innocent hurt. 'Is Apryl hurt?'

That was his first question, his first inquiry. Intent on hurting me, intent on killing me. 'She's . . . she's with a man, Michael, the b-biology guy.' My throat was stuck, the words not forming properly.

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Sometimes it's easier to lie. Sometimes it's better to avoid the truth. It hurts less people, it can save a life. Sometimes the truth kills. It kills in the most literalist sense of the word. The truth killed me, the truth killed Emmett. Sometimes I look back at that day, that day of when we were twenty, and I question myself. Did I do you right thing? Would life be better off if I had just kept the secret?

And every time my reply is yes, I did the right thing.

Because if I didn't admit the truth, than Emmett would be living a lie. And living a lie really isn't living at all.

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'She's cheating on you,' I had blurted out, face colouring. She's lying to you.

'No.' That was what Emmett had said. No. As if that would make everything better, everything okay. As if by refusing to believe would force all the shit stuff away. That's living in ignorance, that's living, in a sense, a lie. 'You fucking cow,' Emmett had whispered, already turning away, already turning his back. Already forgetting all about me. Me, his best friend.

I looked at him, gaze dropping, heart thudding.

'You've always been jealous of Apryl, always. Sometimes I pretended as though the emotion wasn't there, as though everything was normal. You've always been jealous of Apryl, you were never, everhappy for me. Happy for what I had. You never onceasked me how Apryl was, you never once attempted to get to know her. You're a cow, an arrogant snob. You've changed, man. You were never happy for me, always thinking of yourself. You're fucking pathetic.'

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Do you remember when we were twenty, Emmett? It was the year you gave up on me, the year I failed.

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'Maybe, maybe you should think about someone else for a change, somebody other than yourself. Maybe you could try not being so self-absorbed. See how that works out for you.' His words, voice were harsh. I felt myself flinching backwards.

Sticks and stones…

What a ridiculous, illogical saying. Words are harsher than physical pain. Emotional is forever, scarring, tainting your memory. Physical pain heals. Emotional doesn't.

Do you remember when we were twenty, Emmett? You hurt me; you hurt me in ways that should not exist.

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'Maybe you should get out of my life entirely,' Emmett shrugged. He began to turn away from me, sliding me off. Forgetting about me. My eyes widened, becoming plastic orbs stuck to my face .Maybe you should get out of my life entirely. Get out of my life. Get out.Something tugged in my chest; I felt a burning, a hole ripping itself through my body.

'Emmett!' I gasped, forcing a hand to my chest. 'Emmett, something is wrong.' I felt my guts twisting around themselves, withering. An empty space is forced upon my stomach. 'Emmett,' I sob. 'Help!'

'Oh, stop trying to get my attention,' he mutters, turning on his heel, disgust painted across his face. I stand on the pavement, watching him walk away from me. My chest jerks in utter agony and I am convinced that I am dying. Rain slams down to earth, smudging my carefully applied makeup. The makeup that had I produced just to impress Emmett. The rain soaks my clothes, making them see-through and tacky. The rain drenches my hair, uncurling it. The hair that I had spent over an hour perfecting just for Emmett. The mud slowly washes from my body and I am left naked and alone.

And I realise that the pain in my chest is actually my heart, and that I am not dying, I am just incurable.

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Don't be afraid, Emmett. I forgive you. It's too late to hold grudges. It's too late to be scared.

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I watched as the brown curls slid away from me, converting into the crowd, disappearing from view. And then I began to run. I could not let him walk away from me, I could not allow him to leave me forever. I am a girl who is alone, I cannot lose Emmett. He is, when it boils down to it, the only thing that I have. He is my life source, my oxygen.

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I see the car before he does.

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Sometimes it feels as though the whole world is against you, as though the very mother nature is rebelling against you. The wind drags you back, the rocks trip you up, the leaves cover your eyes, the sticks prick your skin, the dirt clogs your senses. But you have to keep going, you have to carry on. You can't give up, not when it's a matter of life and death. You haveto weather on. Because there's just no other option.

'Emmett!' I scream, lungs bursting, heart pumping. My legs push powerfully forward, the muscles stretching, flexing. Still I am not fast enough. 'Emmett, watch out!' I scream, voice coarse, urgent, scared, desperate. 'Emmett, please!' I run, pushing through the thin crowd. 'Emmett, look out!' My plea is silent.

He does not see the approaching car. His anger blinding him. He does not hear the squeal of rubber, the cries of pedestrians, the scream of me. He is walking, the car is driving. He will not make it.

He does not make it.

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Do you remember when we were twenty, Emmett? It was the year you tried to leave me, you tried to take your life away from me.

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I feel myself propel forwards, my broken heels tripping me. 'Emmett!' I scream, thrusting my hands out in front of me. I land on the road, right next to Emmett's feet. I feel his eyes on my face before the world lands in darkness. There is a mighty crash as the car hits us both, knocking the breath and life from me. And I find peace.

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Do you remember when we were twenty, Emmett? It was the year that we died holding hands. Our blood tainting the road, the chaos erupting around us. But none of that mattered, because as I looked into your eyes, my vision slowly fading, I saw trust,I saw hope.And best of all I saw love.

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'This will only hurt a bit,' the blonde haired, perfection of a man whispers. His lips are smiling, but his eyes tell a different tale. My senses come alive as he stabs his teeth through my neck, a thick poison courses through my veins. I am on fire, I am burning. But I am not alone, I have Emmett. And for the moment, that's enough.

Love will always find a way.

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Do you remember when we were human, Emmett?
It was that period of life of when the innocence blanket disappeared. Completely.

Do you remember when we were human, Emmett?

I do.

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Author's Note: I completely, one-hundred percent realise that this entire 'fic is full of tense changes, and awkward narration style. For example – Rosalie appears to be speaking to Emmett for the first portion of this story, and the audience for the next. I'd like to say that it was intentional, and was simply written to confuse the reader. The sections of where Emmett is written as 'Emmett' and not as 'you' are the flashbacks, or the descriptions. I'm honestly not entirely sure – I'm simply editing all my grammar issues. This story was obviously my thirteen-year-old attempt at risqué.

Also, this is dedicated to prettyandpink2 who is utterly amazing and wrote a fic' based off of this. You should totally check it out; it's crazy cute.