Dead inside

by Thirst Contest

Her name is Rosalie, Rose. But there are no roses without torns. Afterlife isn't always dreams come true…

Contest entry for the Thirst Vampfic Contest

Title: Dead Inside

Summary: Her name is Rosalie, Rose. But there are no roses without torns. Afterlife isn't always dreams come true…

Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable characters herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

Dead Inside.

I hate you.

I hate you.

I hate you.

I hate them.

I despise them.

I'm disgusted by them.

How could they have thought they saved me, that they did anything worthwhile for me. Why did he find me?

Why did he help me?

Why did he think he was helping me?

With each passing second, I could feel the blood seeping out of my body.

Cuts.

Gashes.

Slashed open skin leaking onto the pavement.

Bruises everywhere.

With each passing second, I felt my pulse growing weaker.

Thump.

Thump.

I couldn't move.

I could barely feel.

I felt the wind, the icy wind touching my skin through slivers of fabric.

I could feel it, where they touched me.

I never cried for help.

I didn't call out to anyone.

I was silent.

I suffered in silence.

Why did he find me?

How did he find me?

I didn't want his help.

I wanted to die.

I wanted it to be over.

I wanted life to be over.

I had nothing left.

The cold stones beneath me disappeared.

I was floating.

I was dying, I was sure of it.

My heart was already broken, but now it could stop beating.

It could stop hurting.

I'd hurt enough.

I'd had enough.

It wasn't until I heard him speak, that I wished death would have come sooner.

How I wished it would cradle me, carry me into nothingness.

Into the dark abyss.

Into hell.

Because I surely did not belong in heaven.
Not since what happened.

Not since they touched me.

Not since they hurt me.

I didn't deserve heaven.
I was only worthy of hell.

Only pain.

"I'll take care of you, child."

I was sure it was the voice of the devil himself.

He was coming for me.

I thought Death was coming for me.

But the truth was much more painful.

The reality was worse than hell.

Immortality.

I was sentenced to a life worse than death.

One frozen in time.

Frozen.

Dead, but aware.

Dead, but somehow still living.

Living, but barely alive.

Living, but empty.

Alone.

Dead inside.

I could hear brisk movements.

There were voices.

Beautiful voices, bells and harmonies, symphonies to my aching ears.

There were sounds, yet the silence in between was deafening.

Alternating between my stuttering heartbeats and silence.

A cold tremor ran through my body, like a gust of winter's air.

I was not floating anymore.

My body rested on a cold surface.
I felt the grain of wood against my bared skin.

Voices.

Worry.

Arguing.

There was a sharp pain.

A dull ache.

There were visions that faded to black.

At last, I thought.

The darkness had come for me.

I was being swallowed by the abyss.

Tumbling down without a light at the end.

My heartbeat slowed down with every second that ticked by.

Slower.

Slower.

Until there was nothing left.

It was time.

It was my time.

I was anxious, impatient.

I longed for the feeling to not feel at all.

It was time to drown my sorrows.

It was time to forget.

To disappear.

I thought Death was waiting for me, but it turned out I was waiting for him.

Death disappointed me.

It wrecked me.

Left me, as red-hot agony spread through my veins.

Crippling pain.

I screamed through red flashes.
It was a pain worse than death.

Worse than before.

The pain morphed into something even bigger, tearing me apart.

It clawed me from the inside.

I'd rather be dead.

I'd rather be dead.

I'd rather be dead.

Consciousness came and left.

I didn't know for how long.

It was as if the pain lasted for eighteen years.

Eighteen years.

The number of years I was alive.

Life flashed by.

Bittersweet.

Painful memories.

It had been so perfect, up until the end.

The end changed everything.

It killed me.

Literally.

My search for love ended up scorching me.

Flames dancing underneath my skin.

Until I could breathe again.

My eyes adjusted to the light, the blinding white light.

The ceiling was just as white.

Little specks of dust floated around the room.

I felt them land upon my body.

My skin wasn't bare anymore.

There was softness.

Expensive wool covered my arms and torso, down to my calves.

Insatiable thirst coated my throat.

"Carlisle, she's awake." His voice was close by, so he must've been as well.

I shot up, defensively, afraid of yet another man.

My fingers dug into the edges of the wooden table.

The table shattered, splinters flying off.

I gasped.

"It's okay, dear, it's okay." She spoke to me like I was a feral cat, but I trusted her warmth.

She was a woman.

She wouldn't hurt me.

Not like they did, anyway.

"What's your name, dear?"

"Rosalie. Rosalie Hale, ma'am." I didn't recognize my own voice.

I sounded different.

Strange.

Not like me.

"Something terrible happened to you, Rosalie." Her eyes shone like golden orbs, as if she'd cry.

As if she knew.

As if she felt my pain.

"I died," I uttered.

"You would have."

Another voice.

Another man.

I clamped up, shards of wood falling to the ground.

What's going on?

What's wrong with me?

"Let us explain, Rosalie." The first man spoke.

I whipped my head in his direction, almost dizzy from the movement.

I moved so fast.

Too fast, somehow.

He was beautiful.

Copper hair, flawless skin.

Vile creature of creation.

A man.

"Esme, please take her somewhere private. She doesn't trust us, not yet." He spoke again.

He seemed to be intuitive.

They disappeared through a window into the dark forest outside.

This was not downtown Rochester.

"What's happening to me?" I asked, blinded by a disgusting taste in my mouth.

I wanted to cry, but there were no tears.

"Come, sweetheart."

I took the woman's hand.

I took comfort in her touch.

Not too hot, not too cold.

Her auburn hair shone in the artificial light of the room.

They had electric lighting.

Upper class.

Like my parents.

My parents.

"Did you tell my father you found me?"

She looked at me.

Her hand reached out.

She tucked away a strand of my hair.

My hair was down, long and full.

I felt it hit my chest as the lock twirled down.

"I need to explain a few things to you." Her voice was sweet as honey, caring, too.

"Firstly, I need you to take a look at yourself."

She led me to the mantle.

A crackling fireplace coated the room in an orange hue.

The sound was louder than I could remember.

Clearer.

I panicked.

Would there be remnants of what they'd done?

Was she scared to tell me?

"Are there scars?" My voice trembled.

"None the eyes can see, sweetheart."

I felt her words.

None that the eyes could see.

My heart could feel them, though.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone as beautiful, Rosalie."

Flattery.

I thrived on it.

I used to.

She motioned to the mirror.

A Tiffany mirror.

Designer.

Expensive.

I took a glance.

I gasped audibly.

What was happening?

Where was I?

My skin was luminous.

My jaw looked sharper.

My hair more luscious, fuller.

Shinier.

But I almost screamed when I noticed my eyes.

They weren't blue anymore.

Their color wasn't the shade of my mother's anymore, the shade of deep ocean.

They were red.

Blood red.

Disgusting.

"Who are you?" I was shaking.

"What have you done to me?"

I looked down at my hands.

Engagement ring missing.

Nails strong and shapely.

Skin smooth like marble.

Flawless.

"I am Esme, Rosalie. My husband found you on the streets, dying."

Esme.

He should have let me die.

"What is this? How am I still alive?" I shook my head. "What is happening to me?" I was desperate.

"Look at your eyes, child."

I couldn't.

It was too much, too disgusting.

"Why are they red?"

"It's the blood from your human body that is still in your system."

Human body.

Was I in hell?

Purgatory?

"My husband, Carlisle, was able to save you because we're something other than human."

The man from earlier.

Her husband.

The savior.

"Are you thirsty, Rosalie?" Esme asked me.

"Unbearably so, ma'am."

"Please, call me Esme."

"Can I please have a glass of water, Esme?" I pleaded.

"Water won't quench your thirst. You need something else, something else entirely."

I frowned.

"We are vampires, Rosalie."

Vampires.

Vampires.

They are vampires.

Not human.

Panic overruled my senses.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"You cannot be killed, child. You're immortal now, too."

Immortal.

Immortality.

Vampire.

"I'll have to live forever?" I gasped. "Be like this forever?"

What about my dreams?

What about my family, my future children and husband?

I wanted to cry.

I wanted to scream.

I felt paralyzed.

Hushed voices outside grabbed my attention.

The men were back.

"Rosalie, let me introduce you to my family." Esme linked her arm with mine like we'd known each other for ages.

"This is Carlisle, my husband."

He was blond, older than me.

He was beautiful, and they all shared those golden eyes.

"You should've let me die," I spat.

He didn't say anything.

He didn't strike me across the cheek for speaking up.

He merely smiled as if he understood.

"Why did you do this to me?" I sobbed hysterically, unable to produce tears.

"Edward, perhaps you can show her how to take care of her thirst. Show her we're not the monsters here." Carlisle's voice was soft.

Edward.

The other man.

"I understand this might not be easy for you. It was far from easy for any of us."

He got closer.

He was tall, beautiful.

About my age.

But nothing like him.

Like Royce.

I was so thirsty.

It hurt so much.

"I know it hurts."

How did he know?

"We'll explain that later, Rosalie. Now come with me, you'll feel better."

"Can't you come?" I asked Esme, eyes wide.

"Edward is a skilled hunter. Much better than I am. He'll teach you."

I looked at the copper-haired man in front of me.

His eyes were darker.

Almost black.

"You can trust him. I know I do." Esme said.

He reached out for my hand as the other two watched us.

Eager.

Curious.

I cautiously took his hand and let him take me outside.

I was barefoot, yet my feet weren't cold.

He moved.

I moved.

We ran.

I'd never run this fast before.

So fast, the trees blurred.

It was dark out, yet my vision was perfect.

Edward stopped suddenly behind a thick tree overlooking a field.

"What are we hunting?"

His voice was low yet crystal clear. "Animals. For Blood."

Blood.

Vampires.

"It's not as good as human blood, but it keeps us satisfied. It's safer for us."

"Why?"

"Because we live among humans. It would be suspicious if too many of them ended up dead."

I needed to be dead.

I was supposed to be.

"It'll get better, I promise."

Somehow, I trusted him.

He showed me how to do it.

To spot the deer.

To hunt them.

To be a predator.

I watched as he leapt, his lean body strong as he overpowered the doe.

I learned as he severed the artery.

As he drank until it remained motionless on the grass.

He returned with amber eyes, gold like Esme and Carlisle's.

"Your turn."

I felt confused as new instincts took over.

I traced the scent, finding a deer of my own a few miles further.

I jumped, tearing my dress up to my knees.

Hunger consumed me.

Thirst for blood.

My teeth sank into the animal.

Soft as butter.

I moaned at the taste as the blood quenched the burning in my throat.

I could think better.

I felt stronger.

Powerful.

The dead animal lay at my feet.

Cream wool stained with fresh blood that wasn't mine.

Edward looked at me, arms crossed with a smile on his face.

"Well done," he said.

He was seventeen, from Chicago.

He died fifteen years ago.

His optimism was more annoying than I could bear.

Once back, they told me more.

Stories about their charades.

About mine.

About their lives and deaths.

Days bled into nights, yet there was no sleep.

There wasn't the chatter with my mother.

The expectations of my father.

The admiration of strangers.

I would never have my dreams.

They were taken from me.

I would never find a husband.

I would never bear a child.

I would never grow old, sitting on a porch.

They told me it would get better.

They told me I was lucky.

I didn't feel remotely lucky.

I was frozen in time.

Forever eighteen.

Alive, but dead inside.

Two years passed and it never got better. I felt the same. Always numb, always bitter.

We moved, tired of the show we had to put on every day, the useless banter with humans.

Carlisle's motives were clear.

He knew I was lonely.

He knew Edward was, too.

I knew he'd hoped we find solace in each other, but that would never happen.

Edward was my brother.

My teacher.

Confidant.

He was important to me in a non-romantic way. I could never love him other than purely platonic.

Edward didn't care for me, either.

Not once did he call me beautiful.

Not once did he try.

Not once had he courted me.

I loved him like a brother.

He didn't see me as anything else but his sister.

The both of us understood that.

We understood each other.

We found comfort in each other while Esme and Carlisle lost themselves in each other.

Edward would take me hunting.

We'd go running.

We'd talk.

We'd move away for a while. But we always came back.

We moved south along with Esme and Carlisle.

New town, new pretenses.

New roles.

Tennessee.

Odd choice since the sun was so bright there.

We stayed inside mostly.

Being 'home-schooled' by our doctor father.

Coming out at night or on overcast days.

Living like true vampires.

I missed friends and meaningless conversations.

I missed the attention I used to get as a human, the boys all over me, complimenting me.

One night, I wanted to be alone.

I didn't want to listen to composed piano music.

I had no need to witness the undying proclamation of true love between Esme and Carlisle.

I wanted to be alone.

Free.

That's where I found him.

My reason to keep going.

The bearer of my trust and what was left of my heart.

Emmett.

I heard his screams a few hours before dawn.

It was a bear.

He was hurt.

The blood was everywhere.

I almost couldn't contain myself.

Something clicked.

I had to save him.

I had to beg Carlisle to save him.

To help him, as he'd helped me.

The man looked so familiar.

Curly dark hair.

Dimpled cheeks, like my human friend's son.

Tall.

Strong, even for a human.

Beautiful.

Manly.

I killed the bear, draining it's blood, and left the animal in a sea of trees.

I carried the man all the way back to the house.

I ran as fast as I could.

Faster than ever before.

His blood made me feral.

The smell was mouthwatering.

I tried to resist.

I had to.

I was not a monster.

I would not kill him and leave him, as they left me.

I found Carlisle in the house.

He took one look at my appearance and swept everything off the table.

"Please help him."

He knew.

He felt it.

He'd make things better.

He'd help me.

I watched as Emmett struggled through the pain of his change.

I held his hand and never left his side.

I talked to him.

I admired him.

I washed his face, his body, from the stained blood.

Esme helped me get him into clean clothes.

It took him three full days and nights to complete the transition.

His awakening was disoriented until he locked eyes with me.

He smiled.

I sentenced Emmett to an eternal prison.

Yes, I felt bad.

But he would make it better.

He would make me better.

He thanked me and grasped my arm.

His strength surprised me.

His eyes were red, but beautiful.

"You're an angel. You saved me. You carried me to God. I get to spend the rest of eternity with you, which means this is heaven."

Words etched forever in my memory.

Sincere words.

Handsome smile.

Warmth washed over me and my never-beating heart.

"Thank you."

I fell in love.

I was in love.

Deeper than ever before.

He thought I was beautiful.

I thought he was the most handsome man I'd ever seen.

He earned my trust.

He knew my story and still loved me.

He was strong for the both of us.

He made me less angry.

He made me enjoy certain things.

Be happy.

Feel pleasure.

Emmett held me when I felt sad.

He made the never-ending days fly by with humor and love.

We would disappear into our bedroom for days on end.

We'd annoy our family.

Emmett proposed.

We've gotten married a few times now.

We didn't once spend more than an hour away from each other.

We got houses and broke them.

We fought often but always made up.

We were always there for each other.

He became Edward's best friend.

I may not have gotten my teenage dreams, but Emmett made it less of a nightmare. He made me aware that we would have to make our own dreams and look at immortality in a positive way.

We would always have each other.

We would always love each other.

We had time on our side.

I really tried to see it his way.

To look at it from another perspective.

Yet, my initial thoughts never left.

We wouldn't grow old together.

We would never have children of our own.

We would not move forward.

But we also wouldn't die.

Yes, he made me feel more alive.

He made this immortality more bearable.

He made it worth living.

But I still felt dead inside.