INHUMAN RAMPAGE
Trail of a broken heart
"No I can't take one more step towards you. Cause all that's waiting is regret…. And who do you think you are? Running 'round leaving scars, collecting your jar of hearts, and tearing love apart."
-Christina Perry
Over the past three days of pointless, non-directional driving, Rosalie had succeeded in leaving a trail of broken hearts behind her. The newly-wedded couple at the diner yesterday had been no exception, as she subjected them to a lecture about the strains of marriage, life and death, and the exclusion of all possibility for good. When Rosalie had arrived at the diner, searching for any kind of distraction, the couple had been cuddling, kissing, embracing, laughing, and joking. Not only did it irritate Rosalie, and force her to miss Emmett terribly, but it also made her feel somewhat repulsed. And so, by the time she had finished with them, and departed, the entire diner was silent and depressed. But, it didn't make her feel any better, if anything, only worse. It had also failed to help her tend to her own broken heart, as had been her initial intention. This heartbreak she was stuck with, but she was also under no false illusions that this was anyone's fault but her own.
It was about four-thirty in the afternoon when the clouds finally began to cover the blue sky, hiding the sunlight behind their fluffy exterior. Rosalie had already succeeded in lowering the mood of the place, and so, taking hold of her coat that lay across the counter, she strolled slowly to the door, swung it open, and stepped out into a dark, miserable day that suited her mood just perfectly. As the bell that hung above the door chimed out when it came too, a sudden flash of a memory crossed her mind;
"What is the point? We have seen so many times how life repeats itself pointlessly over and over again while we are stuck wondering, frozen in time and dreaming of the past. But what for, Emmett? We live in vain of everything I ever wanted. Time makes it easier ... sometimes, but it never heals me."
The last of the breath in her lungs rushed passed her lips, and her eyelids fluttered as if they were trying to bat away the memory. The umbrella she had picked up on her exit fell from her hands and to the floor as tiny rain drops began to fall. She had said that to Emmett over a year ago, when she had first seriously thought about a way to become a mother, and him a father. And for over a year she had dragged him down this repetitive, self-consumed, never ending road. And over the mounds, the molehills, the mountains, the streams, the rivers, and the seas, he had followed her. He had always been at her side. But what she had said to him then was right; time was never going to be a healer, not completely. In fact she had come to the conclusion that time is more often a destructive force, especially when you have an eternity of it. She is not a fool, she has seen the world through decades, and how it would pointlessly tick over and over again, she had been right there too. Was she to spend forever walking hand in hand with Emmett, only wishing for life to improve all by itself? No. She had tried that, and it had been in vain. Though, through all of this, something in her had changed, if only slightly. If only you could see through her eyes at this moment, you would not perceive a self-obsessed, shallow individual, but a hurt and frightened girl, similar to the naive one that once trusted Royce King. Lost in memories of all she had left behind her, and with the ache of her heart constant, she forced herself to refuse to be drowned in the pain any longer. It was about time this stopped.
It was the light tinkling of bells that brought her steadily back to reality. Glancing down at her hands, she realised the sound was not bells, but little rain droplets colliding against her hard, granite skin. She gently shook her head, her wet hair sticking to her exposed skin, as she realised no matter how much she threw herself into the human world, she would never escape what she was, or what she had done.
"Hey," a male voice called from behind her and over the growing noise of the rain. "I think you need this more than me."
Rosalie's eyes wandered slowly to the man that appeared at her side. He was the short, geeky, spotty guy who had been sat by the duke box listening to every word she had said to the poor, unsuspecting waitress. Before her, he held out a book that was already beginning to soak through with the rain.
"Take it," he said, scrunching his face into an odd expression as his glasses began to side down his nose. When she failed to respond to him, he thrust it into her hands and disappeared back into the warmth of the diner, the bell sounding out once again as the door shut behind him.
Having had enough of this place, Rosalie made her way across the gravelled square to her car, the book still held firmly in her in hand; though she had no idea why. She slid into the driver's side, pulled the door shut as she did so, and threw the book onto the passenger seat. Running her hands through her soaking wet hair, she lent forwards, placing the key in to the ignition, and turning it a single notch. The fans instantly begun to blow out cold air, and so she flicked on the heating button, positioned the fans to face her, pulled her golden strands over her shoulders, and waited patiently for her hair to dry. When the fans had come on, so had the radio which continued to cruelly sing out love song after love song. At least, it did until she reached down, tore it from the car, crushed it in her palm, cracked the window, and threw it out to the mercy of the rain. She wasn't really in the mood for listening to it right now. After what seemed to be forever of staring out of the windscreen at nothing, she finally gave into her niggling curiosity, and glanced over at the book beside her. It took all her strength not to leap from the car, find the idiot who had given it to her, and thrust him into next week once she perceived the title; 'Self-help; how to stop being a misery.'
She glared coldly at the book as though it had offended her, and grinded her teeth in mild annoyance. Self-help! What had the human been thinking of? She scoffed as took the book from its unwelcomed place beside her, cracked the window once again, and was about to throw it out along radio, when she caught sight of her own reflection in the rear-view mirror. Gasping allowed, she took in the mascara smudges under her eyes, the lipstick stains around the edges of lips, and her knotted hair that stuck in all angles to her cheeks. Was that really her? She certainly didn't look as ravishing as usual, and quickly began wiping away the clown make-up with the sleeve of her coat. Pulling the mirror towards her, she looked once more, thankfully this time seeing herself as the natural beauty she was. A sigh of relief rushed through her as she sat back in her seat, her eyes drifting once again to the offensive book. Below the title read, 'Who are you really?' Rosalie raised one eyebrow as she found herself unable to answer that question for the first time in almost ninety years. But then, who had she been that it was fine for her to ruin eight other lives, creating scars so deeply embedded that they may never heal again, all because she failed to control her envy of Isabella and Edward Cullen? Was her soul so caught up in the fires of hell that she had abandoned all sense of humanity in her existence? However perfect she had envisioned her human life to have been, and Emmett to be, she knew now that they were flawed too, just like her. But as flawed as she may be, she had never been malicious before this year. But maybe that is who she is now; Malicious, evil, cold, unlovable.
Her arm flew up, pushing the mirror out of her sight, before letting it fall back down and landing upon the book. Convincing herself it was only out of curiosity, she brought the book up to the steering wheel and rested it there for a moment. Countless thoughts flew around her already overcrowded mind; Emmett had always been there for her. He had always been right for her. But what if he had been too right for her? By giving her everything she could ever want, it only encouraged her already self-centred personality. And then, when there was one thing she wanted more than any other, and he couldn't give it to her, she threw the most almighty tantrum, destroying everyone in her path, determined to get it anyway. And just maybe Carlisle was wrong about his ideas of vampiric and human emotions. Yes, vampires had stronger emotions than those of humans, but had he considered that they may even be too strong for a vampire to handle as well?
"Fine," she blurted out in exasperation, and flicked open the cover to the first page of nonsense that read:
'Welcome, and good luck. I hope that this book brings you the peace that is needed in your life. If you are reading this, then clearly something has gone drastically wrong for you.'
Rosalie almost laughed at that, her bitter scepticism of such books overwhelming her curiosity, and she almost placed it back down, when she caught sight of the next line.
'Firstly, it is important to let go of the past, for it will do nothing but hold you back. And if you are wanting to help yourself, then you need to move forwards without the past chained to your ankles.'
Before she knew it, an hour had passed, and she had meticulously read through the entirety of the book. At first, she had decided it to be a pile of ridiculous nonsense, but less than five pages in, she was glued. By the last line, venom flooded her tear ducts where ordinarily, there should have been tears. As she closed the back cover, a new, odd, and almost overwhelming sensation began to consume her. She couldn't describe it, and she couldn't ignore it either. However, pushing it aside for a moment, she contemplated doing as the book had suggested, though she was still partly convinced that it was ridiculous. However, she knew that that was only because she could not believe her life had come to the point of reading self-help books, and them affecting her in the slightest. But she had to move on; she was at breaking point, and had had enough of the wallowing. Maybe the book would help…
Placing her arms on the steering wheel, she took a deep breath as the book had said to, and closed her eyes, taking a brief moment to compose herself. Firstly, she was to think off everything that had gone wrong… and that was quite a list. As she listened to the rain hammering against the bodywork of her car, she began to make her list.
She stole a child.
Threw a human from a cliff.
Tormented the child's mother.
Betrayed and lied to Emmett.
Led him into almost death, and now he was gone.
She aided the destruction of the Volturi.
Led her family into almost as much danger.
Killed a human boy.
Alice died, and Jasper hated her.
Crap… Her eyelids flew open. She had done all that? And now, while it was once again fresh in her mind, she felt absolutely wretched. Suddenly it was no wonder everyone detested her so much, whether they would admit it outright or not.
"Where are you Rosalie? I'm the devil!" she gasped in despair, her hands falling from their resting place on the steering wheel to her face, where they held her together for a moment. The pain was too much, the hate too consuming, the anger and disappointment in herself flaring to unspeakable levels. More venom swelled in her tear ducts, but never spilt. Hastily, she grabbed the book from her side and opened to the second chapter; 'What to do once you have these negative thoughts clearly placed in your mind.'
After a few seconds of silence, she threw the book into the back of the car and once again got herself together. She felt less ridiculous this time when following the books guide, because she was so desperate to stop feeling so awful. The memories floated about her thoughts, her mind, and her heart. One by one she visualised herself taking hold of each of the memories. Once she had a grasp on them, they began to evolve into small orbs of light in her palms. When the light grew too bright for her to bear, she thrust her arms skyward, releasing them to the universe. As they floated away, she was left with …. space. The angst, anger, and hate seemed to almost instantly dissolve. Naturally they would always be in the back of her mind, but this way, she would have room for other emotions, other thoughts. And that feeling she couldn't describe or ignore once she began reading the book? It was only in this moment, when she let her eyes open once again, that she realised it was freedom.
After a moment of peace, she lifted her hands to her hair and began combing through the knots that instantly fell out, leaving her hair, once again, perfect. It was like a breath of fresh air had blown lightly over her cold, granite skin, blowing out the flames of disaster. She knew she would never be truly happy, the stinging in her heart for Emmett would always prevent that, but she could at least try and move on without being known as the 'one who killed Alice', or 'the baby thief'. Wherever she were to end up now, which to be honest she didn't really care about, she would never be judged by the mistakes she had made in her past. It was time to begin again, a fresh start. Pity, sorrow, hate, blame; she couldn't stand to think of them any longer. They are destructive, demeaning, and Rosalie knew that somewhere, deep, deep down, that there was still some good in her. She just had to find it.
Suddenly, there was a heavy rapping against her window, and Rosalie almost hit the soft roof of the car. Being surprised by humans was another new emotion for her to experience, and one she would perhaps not have had the room for before now. Turning quickly to look at the source of the sound, she saw a small, brunette-haired girl wrapped in a dark green trench coat that was far too big for her. The girl was young, and Rosalie quickly took an educated guess that she was most likely no older than fourteen or fifteen. She stood holding a hood over her head as she bent down to Rosalie's level, blinking fast as the raindrops still found their way to her eyelids, her emerald-green eyes peering hopefully at Rosalie.
"Hi?" she called in a question, thinking that Rosalie would not be able to hear her through the now storm-like conditions, and tapped once more on the window, despite clearly being aware from the eye contact, that she did in fact have Rosalie's attention. "Could you give me a lift?"
Rosalie hesitated for a moment, her eyes fixed firmly, judgementally, on the girl. This was her new start, a start without any responsibility for anyone other than herself, and she didn't really feel like ruining that immediately. Was that ironic? A new start, with old attitudes? Without opening the window, Rosalie shook her head gently and turned to look at the steering wheel, "I'm busy."
"What? Please!" the girl called again, refusing to move. "Everyone's busy when I ask them for a ride, but, it's pretty bad out here if you hadn't noticed!"
She had noticed. "Ask your parents."
The girl frowned. "I would but I don't know where they are. I'm just asking for a ride!"
"And I'm just busy," Rosalie hissed back, irritation building in her.
"I only need to get to New York, it's not far…"
The girl continued to plead her case, but at the mention of New York, Rosalie had drifted off into thought. It had been a long, long time since she had stepped foot anywhere near New York. It was a huge place, easy to lose one's self… "How far is it?"
The girl's eyes lit up briefly, "About…" she paused, her eyes narrowing as she took in Rosalie's curious expression. "I'll tell you if you let me get out of the silly rain."
"Where are we now?" Rosalie asked again, suddenly seeming to become aware of her surroundings.
The girl frowned in annoyance as she wiped rain from her eyes, '"I'm not a talking map, forget it. Shouldn't a rich lady like you have a sat-nav?"
"I don't usually need one," Rosalie replied, a little unsure if the girl was insulting her or not. Rosalie turned the car key, sparking the ignition to life. "Sorry, I have things…"
"Please! Come on, please? Give me a lift, and I'll tell you where you are. How's that for a deal?" The girl placed her hands on the window as she spoke out of clear desperation, and wishing to prevent Rosalie from driving off. "Look, I'm cold, tired, hungry, and I just wanna get to New York. Fine, if you're not gonna help me, I'll find someone else who will. Just seemed like you could use the company judging by what you were going on about in there."
Rosalie sighed as she glanced into the rear-view mirror and through the raindrops to the diner. Dirty, old, untrustworthy men sat stuffing their faces with fatty, fried breakfasts. Would they really be any better to give the girl a lift than her? Probably, seeing as whatever Rosalie had touched lately seemed to fall apart. But, that was then, and this is now. Those men inside could be anyone, and could do anything to her. As she stared at each of the men individually, the girl caught her sight as she ran back towards the diner doors. Rosalie let out a low growl as she let the window drop down and called out, "Alright! I'll give you a lift."
Shutting the window again, she watched as the young girl paused, hesitated, and then came running back, a delighted smile on her soaking wet face. She slid into the car, getting everything wet, much to Rosalie's annoyance. "Thanks, I knew you were alright really."
Rosalie didn't respond, and simply continued to take in the appearance if this young girl now strapping herself safely into the car. "You don't know where your parents are?"
"Nope," the girl answered casually as she brushed her dripping hair from her face. "Well, Dad died when I was three, so I don't know, heaven or hell I guess. And Mom, that's a whole other story."
"Oh," Rosalie said stiffly after a moment of silence, trying hard not to want to help this apparently parentless girl. She had learnt her lesson … but, the yearning for a child was still so prevalent within her that it was hard to not begin instantly imagining taking her under her wing.
"Anna," the girl introduced herself with a smile.
"Rosalie," she said after a moment of Anna staring at her expectantly.
"Nice to meet you Rosie," Anna held out her and to shake.
Rosalie smiled fleetingly to cover her irritation. Rose, she didn't mind. Rosie, she minded a lot. "It's just Rosalie."
"Sorry," Anna apologised before pointing towards the road. "If you turn right out of the car lot we'll get to the 80 at the next junction, then we take the 280 and head into New York."
Swinging the car around, Rosalie began following her instructions, as déjà vu crossed her mind – was today the day she just began following everything she was told too, whether it be by a book or a person? "You know your way around," she finally said observantly.
"Only the route I need to get back." Anna slumped herself into the seat as she stared out of the window, and Rosalie noticed the hint of sadness now dulling the emerald shine in her eyes.
"You live in New York then?" Rosalie asked, searching for any kind of conversation.
Anna nodded.
"I see," Rosalie sighed, turning her focus back onto the road.
"I don't really want to talk about it. I was visiting someone I shouldn't have. If I don't get back Darran will kill me."
"Okay," Rosalie tried to sound uninterested, and was trying her hardest not to instantly become a mother figure as she so often did with younger humans. "Darran is -"
Anna interrupted her quickly, "He's not my boyfriend. He's my boss." She glanced at Rosalie, judging whether or not to let her into the apparent secret. "Don't judge me, alright?"
"I wasn't," Rosalie assured her calmly while running a slender finger under her eyes in a tiresome manner.
"I dance for money." Anna waited, and Rosalie could feel her eyes watching her for a reaction. "Around a pole."
Rosalie spent a moment working to keep her expression placid, and not show her sudden surprise. How had this young girl come to dancing for money? This dark world of the humans was not one she had much, or any, real knowledge of. But she knew one thing; it wouldn't be an easy life for a teenager with no one looking after her. Realising that she hadn't said anything for a minute or two, Rosalie decided a nod was the best course of action.
"Great," Anna huffed, folding her arms across her chest," There's the judgement!"
"Honestly, I'm not one to judge," Rosalie finally said. "We all do things we're not, exactly, proud of…"
"I make money, enough to survive, so it's all good." Anna took a deep breath and changed the subject quickly. "So, what are you doing alone on the road? You're real pretty. You must have a boyfriend or husband missing you somewhere?"
A flicker of pain crossed Rosalie's expression, "Not quite."
"That bad, huh?"
Rosalie allowed a small, forced smile into her expression. She wasn't going to share anything of her life with this stranger. Not that the girl would believe her if she did. "How old are you?"
"Fifteen, just. It was my birthday last week," Anna said in a light, chirpy tone.
"Congratulations," Rosalie attempted to say with as much chirpiness, but failed miserably.
Rosalie drove, making the occasional comment when appropriate, for almost an hour before she saw the welcoming sign to New York. She learned the girl's mother had an addiction to drugs, and after getting into some serious trouble with a dealer, packed her bags while Anna had been as school, and disappeared without a trace. As Rosalie pulled into a small side street apparently near the girl's flat, Anna turned to look at her.
"About my job… Don't judge me, please. I don't do it because I'm a skank or anything like that. I just, I dunno, I guess I like the attention more than anything else. It's safe most of the time. I make money to keep going." Her hand searched for the car door handle. "Take a left at the next junction, and you'll get back onto the 280 which heads straight out of New York."
"Study geography?" Rosalie asked, astounded at the girl's consistent knowledge of routes.
"Nope, just the route I need." Anna smiled, "Thanks for the lift, I mean it. I didn't like the look of any of the guys in the diner."
Rosalie's eyes drifted to a nightclub only meters away from them. "Neither did I."
Anna stepped out of the car, her large trench coat wrapped around her arms, "I hope things pick up for you, I'm sure they will."
"Oi!" A deep, gruff voice suddenly came echoing down the road towards them. "Where you been you little bitch? You think I have endless patience or something? Get in, now!"
Rosalie glared with intrigue at the tall, stocky, grey-haired man who came stumbling out of the nightclub.
"I'm sorry, Darran," Anna called, fear lacing her shaky words, and Rosalie's eyes flittered back to Anna curiously. She hadn't been telling the truth. This didn't seem like the happy place Anna had painted to her on the drive. And he certainly didn't seem like the fatherly type.
She continued to watch the scene unfold before her, finding herself unable to simply leave as she wanted to. Darran stumbled clumsily towards Anna, swearing until the air turned blue, as Anna held her arms close to her body, keeping as much distance as she could between the two of them. It wasn't until Darran raised his arm, and Anna let out a little scream as she cowered away from him against the wall, that Rosalie finally moved. Leaping from the car, she stepped between the two of them, blocking Darran's blow.
"Hey," he slurred at her, his blurry, bloodshot eyes, running over her invasively. "Who you think you are?"
Rosalie could feel the anger boiling in her ice could veins as she stared with hostility back at the fool of a man. She had done so much wrong in her life, that it was about time she did something good, and this, she decided would be that moment. "Her cousin."
Darran burst out laughing as he peered past Rosalie to Anna, "She ain't half as pretty as you, doll."
Rosalie tightened her hand around Darran's wrist, which she was still holding from preventing his hitting out at Anna, and in an almost hiss she whispered to him, "I suggest you go back inside and leave me with my cousin for a moment."
"You don't tell me what to do girl!" he spat back, his face uncomfortable close to Rosalie's. "I own her!"
"It's true, Rosalie," Anna said through pouring tears, "He does."
Rosalie's eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment. He owned her. An underage girl. "You'll give me a moment with her, or you will regret it."
"Whatever," he spat, pulling himself free from Rosalie's hold, unaware that he only got free because she let him. "If she don't come back, it's you I'm coming for girl."
Rosalie listened to Anna's erratic breathing as the rat of a man swayed his way back to the club. After a silent moment, she turned to Anna, who was pressed hard against the wall.
"I know, I lied, "Anna managed to say through her sobs. "I'm so sorry."
Rosalie stood almost perfectly still, unsure what to say as she looked down at the young girl who was falling to pieces before her. If this was Renesmee, Rosalie would not have hesitated in tearing the man apart, witnesses or not, but she wasn't Nessie, she was a stranger.
A/N: Hey girls and guys. A little option for you now: we could follow Anna and Rosalie for a chapter, or maybe two, into the dark world of the nightclub, or, we could skip to the end and move swiftly on towards the finale of the story? Please let me know in a review what you would like to be the next chapter. Thanks muchly!