Toxic Rose
Chapter Ten: Turn back the Clock, Part One
A/N: So I decided to finally put up a chapter from Rosalie's point of view. This one will help shed light on the troubled girl and hopefully give the way she is acting more meaning. It is also told in five parts.
I was in a deep dark place where no light could reach me, the black so piercing that it took my breath away with its harshness. I was broken, a person ruined and unfit to be a part of society, a society that viewed me as a monster for my crimes. But these crimes were not my own, the burden of the guilt lying on the shoulders of that man. The man who destroyed my life and countless others for his own sick fascination. He wasn't the only one responsible, but he was the one that was the worst of them all. The things he made me do...the things he made me see and think...I lost myself in the years that I spent with him and it was only because of her that I was able to claw my way out of the dark pit of despair I lived in every day. She came into my life and blew away all the darkness in my heart with her radiating personality; she gave me a new purpose. And she didn't give up on me like others did, no, she stood by my side as I made feeble steps to recovery. She was the complete opposite of my past; she represented the shining new future that awaited me. Despite Carlisle and Esme being the ones to adopt me, they couldn't take away my dark. She could. She was the one who really saved me.
Alice Cullen was my savior.
When I first arrived at the Cullen mansion I resented it. I resented the nice front lawn, the neat shape of the roof, the cheery colors of the interior, the wide windows that let in light easily, and the expensive furniture they had. I resented them for living in luxury, so different from where I had stayed for the past seven years. And so the first thing I did was destroy their furniture. I broke chair legs, ripped the stuffing from couch sofas, graffiti-ed the walls with blood from a cat I had killed and flooded the bathrooms. The Cullen parents clearly had not been expecting this from me, they thought I would be scared and broken by my past, but I wasn't. I was only angry, so angry that I wanted to break everything that I couldn't have as a child. I wanted to smash their stupid hopeful and parental looking faces to bits, wipe the friendly grins off of the children's countenance as they greeted me as a sister, but most of all I wanted to hurt myself. I hated all I couldn't have, and this included my body and mind. I could no longer lead a normal life with these hands that had been soaked in blood,with this brain that had been turned black by all the horrifying thoughts and images that went through it each day.
The instinct to hurt, to maim, to kill, was so strong in my early days that it sometimes over took me in a red haze.
Until I could control myself and stop these rages I would be chained up or tasered by the Cullen matriarch who was often in the house after my arrival to make sure I could settle in. In the three months since I'd been living with the Cullen's I was in and out of therapist offices and hospital rooms all day. Some days I didn't feel like cooperating with the therapist, wanting to go back to how everything had once been. At least in the dank cellars of my world I knew the rules: kill or be killed. But here in the world above there were so many new rules, rules I didn't understand at all. Rules that said I couldn't assault someone for looking at me weird, that I had to be respectful to others, that if someone touched me it didn't mean they wanted to hurt me, and that I had to be on best behavior in public. I learned that in the surface world everyone pretended to be who they really weren't; they hide their true selves and I hated that, I didn't want to keep up false appearances. But appearance was important and I had a beautiful one, as I soon found out. I had been told many times by that man and his associates that I was a beauty but hearing it come from a person who didn't have a twisted personality made it seem real to me. I took pride in my appearance, the therapist supporting me by saying that a healthy physical look was the first step to fixing one's mental health.
I lived on those compliments on my beauty. They made me whole and real, so I did my best to try and dress up. Yes, I'm not ashamed to say I fished for compliments sometimes, but they were the first sign that meant people were accepting me after what had happened. My law trial had been all over the news and as it was very controversial it stirred up a lot of emotion in people, some of it ugly and directed towards me. Carlisle moved us to the small town of Forks, Washington, in order to spare me from the worst of it. There in the secluded small town, word got around slowly so I would have more time to recover before I had to deal with the facts of the case being thrown at me again. Luckily the residents of the town were kind hearted and too much wrapped up in the beauty of the blonde that wondered around their town to throw insults.
And so I continued to go to therapy, my new 'parents' not trusting me to be stable enough to go to school and they were right to do so. In those early days anything and everything could cause me to relapse, so everyone was extremely careful, sometimes entirely avoiding me when they weren't walking on pins and needles around me, all actions which also lead to relapses. My days passed in blurs, my mind cloudy and drifting in between moments where I had control over my sanity and those moments where I sank into the blackness hovering dangerously around me. I would shelter myself in my old world then, refusing to let anyone help me, but on the days that I did cooperate with my therapists and doctors, I did wholeheartedly want to be a part of society. I wanted to be just like any teenaged girl, obsessing over cute boys, picking out which clothes to wear, having sleepovers with her best friends. And gradually I grew to be more in the now rather than frozen in the past, shedding the darkness that covered me small piece by piece.
Could I manage to maintain all this, even if I had missed out? Could I still build a normal life? Everyone told me I could, that it wasn't my fault I had done those things. I had been conditioned from a young age. And that even now I would still think it okay to do so, that I would view that man as my father. But it was okay because I had a loving family by my side, and I would eventually over come it. The first thing I had to worry about was getting rid of all my anger and my nightmares.
That was easier said than done.
The rage was easier to control. There were plenty of techniques that I could employ in order to calm myself down once I got too pissed off. Counting backwards from ten, using a stress ball, drinking tea, trying bi-polar medicine, meditation, etc. But the nightmares, the nightmares never ended. There is no such medicine to take away night terrors and so I suffered each and every night. I would dream about mangled, hideous monsters chasing me, ripping at my flesh, slurping up my brains or sinking their teeth into my throat and drinking all my blood. These creatures of the night would leave me screaming at the top of my lungs, thrashing uncontrollably on my bed. I'd wake the Cullen household every night as they tried to wrestle me down and inject me with a sedative. Only then would I be able to drift into sleep peacefully. Eventually they took away the drugs as I started getting addicted and my nights would have continued to be hell if it were not for Alice.
My relationship with my new siblings was practically nonexistent despite their best efforts. I was too wrapped up in my past, the memories creating a barrier between us, as I lived inside my head. Even my own brother was afraid to approach me, treating me like a stranger, as a rabid animal. He would try and talk to me, conversations held from a safe distance. I tried to indulge him in his whimsy as I loved him still and worried about his health. I hadn't forgotten any of the memories of living at the orphanage, how we had spent the time there risking death to steal an extra loaf of bread to feed our too thin bodies, how we fought to keep our blanket on cold winter nights from the bigger kids, how we toiled away in the basement washing clothes for the house mother. Although I wished I could forget, these memories were ingrained in our brains the way a brand stays on the skin. I wondered if he was messed up because of these memories or if something else had happened to him.
The other kids, Emmett and Edward tried to break through my walls too, but their efforts proved futile, the walls made of smoky black glass that hide their kind features and nice intentions and twisted them into something less pure. Even Alice's exuberance hadn't affected me at all, her cheers of 'I finally have a sister to shop with!' falling on uninterested ears. It was only when she helped me with my nightmares that I could finally look through the wall separating us and see their actual appearances.
When they took me off the sedatives I had no way to return to a calm sleep once I woke up and realized that it had been a dream. My body would shake with the effort of having tried to outrun those creatures, my lungs and eyes burning. I could still feel the ghost of their touch, the insidious whisper of their voices in my head, sometimes even during the day, and especially in the afternoon when the sun just began to dip below the horizon.
I remember one night, being shaken free from the clutches of the beasts and finding Alice's face above me, her tiny yet strong hands on my shoulders. "Rosalie," she said, her voice steady and her eyes unafraid, despite how she had seen my body contort in pain and terror.
"W-what?" I gasped, pulling my hands to my wet face. I had been crying in my sleep again. I looked at her wildly, the shadows on the dark room suddenly full of danger. "The l-lights," I choked out. "Hit the lights!" She did as I asked, darting around in the light way she does, until the room was bright, washed in a sterile glow. I sat up in bed slowly, my heart pounding in my chest. I felt like I was going to be sick, my nerves so frayed from what I had seen this time in my sleep.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her delicate features drawn in concern. "Do you want some tea or coffee?" she added when I still didn't answer her, just kept my eyes closed and arms wrapped around myself.
"I know this is hard for you," she went on, sitting on the edge of my bed lightly. "But we can't let you have anymore of the drugs. They'll make it worse for you in the end." She traced a pattern on my sweat soaked bed sheets. "You know I don't envy you," she said suddenly, her voice getting raspy. "It must be awful to recall all the terrible things that occurred to you. At least I can't remember too much from my time. If there was one good thing my parents ever did, it was to ensure I wouldn't remember most of what they did to me."
I opened my eyes at this comment. I had never heard any of the Cullen children's stories before. I knew that they all came from broken households but Carlisle had forbade them from sharing with me should I relapse from what I heard. This was the first time I had heard any of them mention anything. Alice noticed that she had my attention now, but instead of continuing she moved closer to me, reaching out a soft hand to wipe away my tears. I flinched at her touch but didn't move away. I was still afraid of having people touch me but it was getting better, step by agonizing step. "I'm sorry for what happened to you, but you can get through it. If you want you can share your memories with me, it'll help to fill in the gaps of my own."
I shook my head at this. I had already shared all I deigned to with the countless specialists I visited. I didn't want to tell her, especially not now when at night they seemed more vivid.
"That's alright," she sighed, playing with a stray strand of my hair. "For now you go back to sleep."
"I can't," I responded, my voice still shaky, my heart still thumping in my chest.
"Yes you can. I'll help you. Scoot over." Alice gesticulated for me to move over on the bed and I did so, confused as the pixie climbed in, pulling the red covers over both of us. "Turn around," she ordered and I did, not comprehending why she would get into bed so causally with me, with a reputed murderer. Was she not scared? What if I relapsed and hurt her? As I lay on my side now, facing the wall she slide an arm around my waist, her face turned into my shoulder. I felt more relaxed in her arms for some reason and I let out a huge breath.
"What's something that you find boring?" she asked, surprising me.
"Boring?" I asked. The question caught me off guard. I never had time to think about normal things much less be bored.
"You know, something that you just don't have any interest in," Alice offered when she noticed I didn't know. I frowned, thinking hard.
"Um, I don't know, rocks?"
Alice laughed at this, her chuckle vibrating my shoulder. I felt a surge of unexpected happiness at this, so strong that it washed away the last traces of my night terror. I had made her laugh, I had never made someone laugh before. It was a light twinkly sound, like wind chimes, and it suited her incredibly.
"Well, then lets talk about rocks until you get so bored you fall asleep," Alice said and went into the process of how rocks were made, how to find them, the different types you could find. Listening to her soft voice, her warm body pressed against mine, her small arms holding me, I fell back asleep for the first time without dreaming.
Turn Back the Clock, Part two
A/N: Ugh, trying to get inside Rosalie's head is so hard. Her thoughts and feelings often contradict each other. For example, she wants to be a part of society and be normal but she also longs for her dark messed up world.
It had been four months since my arrival into the Cullen family and I was slowly fitting into the routine of their life. Carlisle was a talented doctor and so he was often in high demand; rushing off at the crack of dawn and returning into the late hours of the night, work consuming his every thought when he wasn't busy out on emergency calls. And when he did have a spare moment he spent it behind closed doors, thinking of how to help his brood of damaged children. Esme was as absent as him, once she deemed me stable enough to be without the maternal love of her handcuffs and taser. She'd pop into the house once in a while to host a party for some charity event of hers or another and then leave on an extended vacation. This pretty much gave us kids free reign of the house. As it was summer, Emmett, Edward and Alice had summer vacation. Jasper and I were still being homeschooled, the huge gaps in our education astounding. But we were both bright and Alice loved helping us learn. She'd bring out her old text books and notes and share them with us, explaining the concepts that we couldn't understand with such tender patience it was as if she was our mother.
Jasper was able to open up to her more because of it, her wild personality rubbing off on his subdued one. Since I was close to Alice, she was influencing him to trust me more. I was glad to see it happen, glad to see him treat me as less of a threat. And she still held me at night. She'd wake me up from my dreams and then lie by my side, curling around my body comfortingly until I drifted peacefully away. I still didn't trust Edward and Emmett enough, the shadow of their trauma still etched deeply into every facial expression they'd make. Only Alice was an open book, her lack of memories blessing her with the ability to look past her shortcomings and move on, as well as help others move on. I felt that she was the glue in those months that kept me from unhinging completely. But even she had her limits.
I remember that one day Alice got the sudden urge to go shopping. She had just seen a commercial for a new shopping mall in Olympia, Washington, and wanted to go visit it. Alice had even more of a childlike spontaneity back in those days than she has now. She begged Carlisle for days to take her, as none of us had our license at that age, but he had said no. So Alice called a taxi instead. And to my surprise she wanted me to come with her.
"I don't think I should leave the house," I insisted. Olympia was a bigger town;there could be people who knew who I was there. Besides Carlisle said not to exit the house, unless I went with someone and it was a quick run.
"Oh come on, it'll only be for a little bit and you need to leave the house. You've stayed indoors so long, you'll take root in the floor boards." Alice tugged on my hands to try and get me out of the comfy chair in the Cullen library. I had been reading books on various topics and found to my liking that I enjoyed fiction, romance and vehicle books. Fiction helped me to escape from my current reality, and romance held an allure, a promise of sweet things. I wished to be loved like that one day; to love someone madly and deeply. To not have my tender feelings crushed into the dust as they had been done so before. And the vehicle book, well I simply liked the sleek design of sports cars. I wanted to get under that perfect shiny exterior and pull apart the insides piece by piece to understand how they worked. Much how I wished I could do to other people to better comprehend them.
"Fine," I sighed dramatically, Alice's high pitched squeal of approval bouncing off the high shelves of the room. I knew that I shouldn't leave, but all of Alice's other suggestions had only helped me, not worsened me, so what could be the harm in indulging her. Besides I had never been shopping before and that was what normal girls did. And in this instance I wanted to be regular.
"I'll call the taxi," she said excitedly and rushed off to get her purse. Ten minutes later we had snuck out the back door, to avoid the boys from catching us, and into the waiting taxi. The ride wasn't long and I let my eyes drink in the outside world. So much of it had changed since I had last been a child. There was an increase in technology for sure, and the fashion was dramatically more sexualized especially in regards to females. Keeping my face nearly glued to the window, Alice chattered aimlessly in the back, sometimes to me and sometimes to the driver. When we arrived at the new mall I was astounded. Never before had I seen such an enormous compound. Alice was even more impressed than I was, and with wild abandon she grabbed my arm and dragged me inside.
We lost track of time as we flitted by from store to store, Alice buying all sorts of numerous useless things. I was a bit worried about how much she was spending but Carlisle must be rich if he could afford the therapy bills for all five crazy kids, so I let her carry on. By the time evening had arrived we were tired and exhausted. We dropped like flies onto a bench, letting our aching feet take a rest as we caught our breaths.
"I think we should go home now, I'm sure the boys noted our disappearance and Carlisle will be back soon anyways." I said as I rubbed my tired eyes. I was also starved but I could wait to eat until I got back. I was worried the boys would squeal on us.
"Don't worry, I got gifts to tide the guys over to our side, but your probably right, we should leave soon. It's just I had a lot of fun with you today." Alice said a bit breathlessly as she gave me a shy smile.
My heart skipped a bit. I was a fun person to be around? I could be fun? I was pretty sure that was not the reaction I elicited from most people but then again Alice was not like most people. Nevertheless the comment made me feel hopeful inside, like I could truly get over my evil past.
Gathering up our bags as Alice called the taxi, we exited the mall into the dusk. In my rush from store to store I had lost track of how much time had passed. The threat of the night loomed over me and I could feel my skin crawl. I squared my shoulders and tried to keep the fear from coiling around my heart but Alice noticed.
"Are you okay?" she asked reaching to touch my shoulder but I flinched away and walked faster, hands like claws around the bag straps. She seemed hurt at this, but didn't comment on that. "If somethings bothering you the therapist had said to talk about it. That voicing your issue helps to ease the tension away." But I already knew all that. Still, I was no good with my words, only my hands and I had grown up needing to hide any emotion I felt since it could lead to my downfall. A few months of therapy were not going to erase all that.
"Rosalie..." she said in such a way that it made my gut twist uncomfortably. Dr. Wagner's Rules for Reintegrating into Society: Rule 24, Treat others with respect. I heaved out a breath and slowed down my walk so that she could catch up. And that's were I made my mistake. Because I had been so angry I had walked us into a side street, the streets nearly empty. Turning on my heel to face Alice I noted three young adult males walking behind her about five feet away. They had been chatting calmly to one another but then one of them saw my face and his own turned into one of horror and disgust.
"I can't believe it," snarled the one who had seen me first. He was wearing a too big white hoodie and had a beard. He tapped the guy closest to him on his green shirt clad chest. Instantly the man looked at me and his eyes opened wide in shock. The third party of their group, a male wearing a red hoodie and hat also saw me.
"Well, what do you know, James," the white hoodied guy said addressing the green shirted guy. "It's the murdering bitch from the news." Alice turned to look at them, her face paling and she slowly slide next to me, her bags rustling as they rubbed against mine. She didn't have to say anything for me to know this was going to go bad.
"Oh yea, I remember you. Had the world buy into your 'it wasn't my fault, he made me do it' act." James said, his face looking at me with disgust. "Killed so many people yet here she is. Walking without a care in the world. Shopping." The last word he spit on, and the males stopped, appraising us with barely veiled anger.
"I think we need to teach her a lesson," the red hoodied one said. "What do you say Laurent? We beat her so bad she'll wish she could join her victims," he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
The white hoodied boy, Laurent, smiled. "Yea, we can do that. You didn't go to prison but your lucky you ran into us. We'll give you the punishment you deserve and as for your little friend over there, we'll only hurt her a little. Just enough to make you regret all the shit you pulled over the jury so they could set you free!"
"Yea!" screamed James, his eyes looking frantic now as he gazed over at me. "Sick bitches like you should die!"
Alice let out a half whimper, her lips trembling in fear. Why had she ever thought it was a good idea to take Rosalie out to a city when the news of her trial was still fresh in everyone's minds? "Rosalie, we need to get out of here," she whispered to the girl, trying to gauge the blondes expression. Was she going to relapse now? She hadn't in over a weeks time but certainly faced with such a situation would force her to, and it would all be Alice's fault.
"Rosalie, Rosalie!" Her cries were getting more urgent as she noted with rising panic that the males were approaching them, stances dangerous and expressions hard. But the blonde had a distant look on her face, eyes impassive. She calmly lowered the shopping bags from her hands softly to the ground. Her gaze never left the boys even as she straightened her knees, her hands hanging uselessly from her sides. In the time that Alice had been panicking and the boys spouting their nonsense, Rosalie had already assessed them. She calculated their age, weight, height as well as the vulnerable body parts she needed to strike. And she already had a weapon. She and Alice were standing next to a trash can, a glass bottle sticking out from the rubbish. Quick as a snake she pushed Alice away from her to get her away from the fight and then with her right hand she grabbed the bottle and broke it over the trash rim. Now it was jagged, the edges glimmering malignantly in the streetlamp lights and suddenly Rosalie wasn't in the middle of a street in Olympia anymore. She in a dark damp basement, a single light bulb hanging above her head. A boy of twelve stood before her. He was bigger than her, tougher than her, and stronger than her, and he was pissed. She was two years younger and time had not been kind to her. She was scrawny and malnourished. "Your greatly disadvantaged here," a childlike voice whispered in her ears. "You have to use your wits to defeat him. Observe his body, find his weaknesses and exploit them before he can find yours. Remember, you may be small but you are fast."
Rosalie swallowed hard, shifting her bare feet nervously on the dirty brick floor. The boy in front of her was fresh; he hadn't been in the games for long. Fresh bruises dotted his face were he had been struck when kidnapped but other than that, no injuries. He had no weaknesses she could exploit! How was she going to win this? She clutched the knife in her hand and watched nervously as he twirled his own around from one hand to the next. She gave another desperate look at him, licking her dry lips. She had to find some weakness, there had to be one. And with a click Rosalie saw it all fall into place. The bruise above his right eye had swelled it almost close shut, he limped on his left leg a little and the way he switched hands on his blade meant he didn't know which hand was his strong hand.
And so she made her move. She feinted to the right side, causing him to stumble to his bad left leg to avoid her. She'd also timed it so that he had just tossed his knife to his left hand, away from her. She rounded a kick to his shin that sent him to the floor onto his knees before she drove the blade right into his Adam's apple. The blade bobbed as he tried to swallow, his hands flailing to his throat but the hilt was stuck fast. Blood bubbled at the corners of his mouth and his head was thrown back in silent pain. Then his eyes rolled back and he fell, twitching on the floor, kicking up dust and smearing the ground with blood. Finally, the battle was done. A loud scream seemed to cut through the dark of the cellar and young Rosalie frowned. Who could be screaming if it was just her in here? The screams seemed to be coming from the direction behind the boys body. She stepped over him, her heels sinking into his blood, and ventured into the dark past the circle the light provided. The screams got louder, more sounds joining in: the sound of skin ripping, of a guttural cry, of the thud of a body to pavement. Young Rosalie frowned. Why were these sounds here? She reached out into the darkness feeling a doorknob in front of her and pulled on it, the sounds intensifying and a red glow permeating the room. But she didn't go through, standing on the doorway between this world and the one outside. Outside she could see hands covered in blood, hands holding broken shards of glass, holding a man up by the front of his now red shirt, digging the glass into the weakness of his throat, over and over again, all the while a small girl screaming for it to all stop. Her yells blew through like a strong gust of wind and young Rosalie struggled to keep the wind from out her eyes. The yells powered through her and into the room, blasting away the dark, the clutter, and suddenly she was older now. Her scrawny and bald headed ten year old self transforming into the fourteen year old of today, with blonde hair that went to her chin and with more meat on her bones. She reached a hand out into the doorway and fell out of it, finally
becoming
me.
I drop the body to the ground, the man long given up trying to beg me to stop. His friends lie next to him, broken pieces of a puzzle. The glass creaks in my bloody grasp. I am aware of my surroundings again. The stench of copper, the sobs of Alice, the noise of labored breathing. They are still alive and I am sad.
"Oh god Rosalie, oh god!" Alice wails as she looks at me, my face smooth, clothes covered in crimson. Yet despite her panic and fear I know none of it is directed towards me; she is worried for me not for them.
"Their still alive," I say my voice shaking as the reality of my relapse hits me. After this it's over. I was going to a mental hospital no questions asked. I drop my glass bottle. "Call the ambulance Alice, they can still make it." Through her tears and hair pulling she pulls out her cell phone and stammers through the call as I watch her. I feel bitter yet satisfied at the same time. Bitter because I let down those who believed in me, and satisfied because I beat the shit out of those men.
Conversation with the paramedics finished, Alice pockets her phone and throws herself into my arms not caring that she will get blood on herself. "Rosalie what are we going to do? This is all my fault. I never should have convinced you to go out, and now your in trouble and now they'll take you away and I won't ever forgive myself and dad and mom will be mad. Oh god, what was I thinking? Why was I so stupid?" She rambles on and on and all I do is shush her and pat her hair. And this time, as we wait for the ambulances to arrive, it is I who holds her in my arms.
Turn Back the Clock, Part Three
After my last relapse it was just as I feared. I was sent to a mental hospital, the white walls sucking away all my recently and delicately acquired happiness from my stay with the Cullen's. The squeak of nurse's sneakers on linoleum tiles, the heavy smell of medicine in the air and the screams of fellow patients that shook the walls was enough to drive me crazy, if I already wasn't. I was drugged out of my mind most of the time, watched with a careful eye in case I should fall back into my old habits. I hated this place, no better than the hole I had lived in for seven years, even though the walls were white and clean, and meant to feel safe. I would have given the workers there hell but I didn't. I wanted to go back to my life with the Cullen's, I wanted to go back to Alice. She was the only that made me feel human, the only one that truly helped me, and in this place the distance between us was unbearable.
There had been a case of course after my relapse and Carlisle's lawyers met with the state's. They wanted to throw me into the mental hospital for life, or at least ten years but Carlisle's lawyers fought that, saying that I had been attacked, my life put into danger and due to my conditioning I had fought, which was a perfectly normal response in a lot of the human population. The state had argued that I could do that to anyone, if I deemed them a danger to me even if they necessarily weren't. The argument went back and forth over this, mindnumbingly boring as the parties poured over the most minute of legal details. But in the end I hadn't killed any of those bastards, only sent them to the hospital, and this was my saving grace. I got only two months in a mental institution. I didn't even protest as they took me away. I knew this was far better than I deserved. I think the only one who suffered through this worse than me was Alice.
She beat herself up for what happened everyday that I was there. She thought it was her fault I had relapsed, that if it weren't for her antics I wouldn't be in this position. This was true, but it was my fault not hers because I had not argued against going with her, I had been the one to slit their throats, I had been the one that acted like a total monster. I wondered how the scene would have acted out if we were just normal girls, but I quickly shook my head in disgust. If we were normal girls James, Laurent and the other guy wouldn't have attacked us to serve their own brand of justice. They would have walked behind us on the street, continuing on with their day.
So it was all my fault. And that man's fault.
The days in the mental hospital flew by quickly. Usually I was too doped out of my mind to realize what was happening, or I was locked in white padded cell reading books and trying to catch up on my school work. I had been a month into my stay (I think) when Alice came to visit me. Carlisle had come to check on my progress personally, to ensure that they wouldn't falsify my records and try to stick me in for longer, when Alice had begged him to come. And seeing how sad and mopey and generally un-Alice like she had been acting he finally agreed to let her come. They sat in the chair of the visiting center that was in front of me, thick glass separating us. Carlisle looked put together as always, years of dealing with emergency situations preventing him from feeling panicked at my haggard appearance. Alice, however, didn't take it so well. She had bags under her eyes that only accented her concerned and fearful expression. She placed her hand on the glass as if it could somehow reach me if she pressed hard enough. She stared at me, wordlessly for a long time and I stared back, my drug addled brain spacing out during this span of time. A tap on my shoulder pulled me out of my stupor and the man guarding me gestured to the phone. Alice had sat down some time ago and was holding a phone next to her ear. I picked up a phone next to the wall and did the same, excited to hear their voices again.
"Rosalie, oh my god, look I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry about everything. I'm the worst sister ever. Please don't hate me. I can stand you being mad at me but I can't stand you hating me. Please," her rush of words slowed down and lowered to a whisper that said she was close to tears. She wasn't even looking at me anymore, her head down and both hands cradling the phone as if it was the one thing that kept her from breaking down.
"Tell me you don't hate me." I stared dumbly back at her, my thoughts churning slowly through my head, like butter. Carlisle had a hand on her shoulder and was rubbing it comfortingly. How I missed curling up to Alice at night, her voice in my ear. In here the night terrors didn't come but only because my sleep was drug induced.
I opened my mouth, trying out the words in a tongue that had long not been used. "Alice," she looked up at me as I said this, tears rolling down her small cheeks. She had been crying silently. "I don't hate you." I forced my lips into a smile.
Alice came to visit me a couple more times, dragging a tired Carlisle behind with her. I had been steadily put off the drugs, whether through the influence of Carlisle or because they thought I didn't need it as much anymore, and I enjoyed the way my thoughts were freer. No longer were they stagnant, like a puddle after rain, but moving like a lazy river. Soon, maybe I would even be back to full capacity, roaring like a broken dam. But those visits of Alice were an oasis in this world of monotony. It was so boring, even my school books not taking away this boredom. But I had smiled when I first finally realized that I was feeling bored, that I could be bored. I had thought that was impossible for me. Maybe it was a sign of my life becoming normal.
After my two months were up I had returned back to the Cullen's house and found to my displeasure that all the kids walked on thin ice around me. Including my own brother, who was even more wary of me than before. All the progress we had made had fallen away. It pissed me off so bad that I had erupted one day.
"Stop treating me like this!" I had yelled, standing in between the TV screen and the Cullen's sitting on the couch. I stood with my hands over my hips, effectively blocking whatever stupid shit they had been watching. They didn't dare tell me to move however, they knew better than that.
"Stop treating you like what?" Emmett asked, feigning that he wasn't threatened by me, acting as if I wasn't in a dangerous mood now and just joking around. Well I wasn't, as the last three guys knew. He sat with his big arms splayed across the back of his couch. Jasper sat on his left side, his face nervous as he realized there was about to be a confrontation, and Edward sat on his right, legs and arms crossed tight as he gave me a look of displeasure. Alice was next to Edward, gazing back from Emmett to me, her body tensed and ready to spring off the couch to come between us, if things escalated to that.
"Like I'm going to kill you all. I won't," I hissed, screams of a person from the still playing movie behind me, being stabbed to death, not helping me make my point.
"We don't think you will," Emmett said, playing with the remote in his hand.
"You all think I'm crazy."
"No we don't," Emmett insisted sitting up in the couch, hands coming down to his lap. He fiddled with the remote some more, his gaze never leaving my accusing one.
"Well I know I'm crazy," I dug a pointer finger into my chest and then pointed it at all of them, an evil maniac laugh coming from the movie that was still playing. "But at least I'm trying. You guys aren't trying to help me at all. Instead your just ignoring me, treating me like a ticking time bomb. I want to get better, I really do, but your not making this easier for me." I finished my speech, my chest heaving angrily. Why was I even angry? Why was I bothered by this? Was I going to relapse again? I didn't understand the turmoil of feelings inside me right now. I had so many different feelings inside that I couldn't begin to name them, much less comprehend them.
"At least we know your not really crazy crazy," Alice said with a small laugh. "Only real crazy people think their not crazy." She clarified as the Cullen's all swiveled their heads to look at her. Suddenly Emmett began to laugh. He slapped his knee hard as he bent over. His laughing seemed to calm whatever was in me and I couldn't keep my scowl up for long. I let my face drop into neutral and took the hands from off my hips.
Edward and Jasper looked at the big boy nervously, Jasper squirming in his seat uncomfortably, worried the laughing might just piss me off more. At last when Emmett stopped he got up from his seat and approached me. "Rosalie, I'm sorry if we made you feel this way. We all just thought you needed a bit of space. We weren't trying to be rude to you. Believe me." He placed a big hand on my still too thin shoulder and I almost flinched away but didn't. His voice sounded sincere and although I knew he still had to feel somewhat fearful of me I was too tired to care. If my own 'family' couldn't stop being afraid of me then who could? Would anyone ever not fear me? Would they look at me, like those men had, and see a murderess?
I let my shoulders sag and was about to turn on my heel when he pulled me roughly against his chest. He smelled clean, like soap and fresh laundry. He put his hand on my head and I was so shocked by this gesture that I stood there. I warred internally of whether I should push him away and punch him, or relax into his arms. But I didn't get to choose as Alice bounded up, exclaiming, "Yay, I love family bonding time! Especially if it involves hugs!" She hugged me and before I knew it Edward was there hugging me and so was Jasper, although he looked hesitant and did so lightly, his arms ready to push himself away from me as quickly as possible should I snap. I felt overwhelmed by their presence, so I didn't say anything.
"From now on, Rosalie we will try hard to be there for you, but you also have to let us in. We know that you distance yourself emotionally and physically from others, but that's no excuse for us not to try all the more to get to you. I'll just warn you we're not whole either."
And that evening, as the Cullen's held me in their arms they told me their stories, down to each and every horrifying detail, until we all cried in each others hold, sinking to the floor in overwhelming grief when our legs could not longer support us.
And from then on, whenever I would have my night terrors again they would all take turns coming into my bed and holding me until I could calm down and slip back into peaceful sleep. Emmett with his buff arms, clutching me like a mama bear would to their baby cubs. Edward with his less muscular ones, keeping a respectful distance between us. Jasper with his shaking ones, still afraid I would rip out his throat but nevertheless still trying to help me, trying to fix the broken bonds between us. His fear hurt the worst. He was my actual blood and flesh and every terrified and nervous look he sent me made me wonder if he had forgotten all I had done for him back in the orphanage.
And lastly Alice would come too, her tiny arms feeling the strongest of them all, as if she could keep me afloat forever and ever, above the sea of nightmares.
And so in the days following my return from the mental institute we broken children tried to fix each other, piece by tiny piece, some pieces more difficult to put back, some hiding in the tiny cracks between our conscious and unconscious mind, all the while holding onto the hope that one day we could finally be whole and people would see us, see how shiny we looked and never notice the cracks that threatened to make us fall apart once more.
Turn Back the Clock, Part Four
A/N: In this series of flashbacks, the Cullen's are roughly two years younger than in the normal story line. Rosalie and Jasper are fourteen, Alice fourteen, Edward fifteen and Emmett sixteen.
"I think I know why my parents tried to exorcise me."
"What?" I asked, the statement catching me off guard. Alice and I had been in her room practically the whole day. Ever since my return from the mental institute I had been on house arrest, a tracking bracelet on my ankle courtesy of Esme to ensure I wouldn't leave the house. And if I did, it'd give me a nasty shock.
Before hand I had been able to go out for quick runs as long as someone came with me, but now the knowledge that I couldn't leave at all made me fidgety. I itched with the urge to go outside, my brain knowing full well this wasn't a good idea should a repeat of last time occur, but my body not caring. My legs bounced around restlessly every time I sat down, I paced around the house in circles, I pulled on my hair and picked at the scars on my body. Most of the scars from my time with that man, had been erased thanks to the deep pockets of Carlisle. He paid for plastic surgery to reverse them and a lot of the smaller ones were completely gone and the bigger ones less noticeable. Jasper had been offered the same but had refused, saying he wanted to look back at his scars one day and not feel any horror as he ran his fingers over them, just a cold indifference. I had thought that a stupid idea. Why keep such ugly reminders? We already had enough scars in our mind and soul to last us for the rest of our life time.
Anyways, I was superbly bored now, still trapped in the house while the sun shone invitingly outside, tempting me to go and feel the grass on my toes, the wind and light on my skin. But if I so much as approached the window within three inches I'd get a shock, so I could only look on from the distance. Emmett, Edward and Jasper had left for some male bonding trip to the mountains leaving the house quiet and utterly saturating with boringness. I wasn't allowed to watch TV or play video games because the violence in them could trigger me. Only Emmett had the right to them and they were locked up with a special password. After fiddling with it uselessly I had given up and tried to read some textbooks, but the usually interesting text fell flat in comparison to the beautiful weather outside.
I was so bored!
I threw my book aside, disgruntled and took to the kitchen rummaging in the cabinets to find something to eat my boredom away with. When after thirty minutes of looking and only finding a bunch of snacks that I couldn't eat, I retired to the couch and put my legs up on the coffee table with a huff, crossing my arms over my waist.
I was so bored.
I stared at the ceiling trying to think what a normal girl would do in this situation. Call her friends, maybe? But I didn't have any. I was still staring at the ceiling when Alice came into the house in a cloud of fruity perfume and with a rustling of bags. She had been out shopping on West street again.
"Back so early?" I asked, not looking at her as she walked around the couch I was planted to and set down her bags on the table.
"And what were you doing?" she asked and I shifted my head to look at her. She had her hands on her hips, a questioning look on her eyes.
"I'm being bored, that's what I'm doing." She sighed at my response.
"I thought you couldn't get bored."
"I thought so too," I answered back. "But your parents have spoiled me. I mean really." I jiggled the ankle with the tracking bracelet on it
"Their your parents too," she pulled her hands off her hips and went to stand in front of me. "Besides its only for a little bit. You'll be able to leave the house eventually. It's not like their going to keep you here until your an old lady." She pulled on my crossed arms, uncrossing them and pulling me up.
"Your not going back to shopping?" I asked, raising a brow.
"No, I did all that and got everything I needed. Besides I don't want to leave you alone in the house. Since the boys are out and you can't leave I'm going to have to keep you occupied." She grabbed her bags off the table. "Follow me upstairs." And I did, wondering what new scheme she was up to now.
We went into her room and it was like entering another world entirely. The whole of the Cullen house was always made up of solid grays, whites, and blacks no matter how many times Esme redecorated. But Alice's room was always bursting with colors. This time she had redecorated it green and it felt like I was in the deep of a rainforest jungle. Green paper streamers hung in the doorway mimicking vines, thick green carpet layered the floor, my toes sinking in with each step. Murals, expertly painted by someone Esme had hired on the pleads of Alice, portrayed jungle scenes of monkeys hanging from vines, exotic birds soaring through the sky, and predators prowling the leafy forest floor.
The furniture in the room matched the jungle theme: dressers made of twisted wood stood against the walls, a canopy bed with bedposts covered in crawling vines and curtains made of giant canopy faux leaves stood by the room window, and a desk and chair were next to it, a mossy looking blanket folded neatly on the seat of the chair. But what made the room even more wild was the water fountain that took up nearly a whole wall. A woman's face was carved out of granite, her mouth opened in a shocked expression and eyes hollow. Water flowed out of her mouth and into the basin below her where little koi fish swam around happily. Moss covered the granite of the fountain, a huge clump around one of the woman's eyes, making it seem like something that a wandering adventurer would stumble across; an object from a lost civilization.
I had to stop and stare every time I came into Alice's room because I loved the effort the girl put into her decorations. It was unlike any of the other Cullen kids rooms. Emmett's was blue and messy, his furniture covered by dirty plates, his carpet barely visible under all the piles of used clothes. He had a huge TV screen in front of his bed, every type of game system attached to it but that was all for his personal touch to the space. Edward's was like the rest of the house, white, gray and black, the only difference being he had a keyboard and other musical instruments set up around his room. He had turned his private bathroom into a mini studio and recorded music there, but what kind no one knew since they had never heard anything he made, as he never shared. Jasper's room was warm and comfy, like a library. Everything had a hint of brown in it and he had a comfy brown chair in the corner of his room with a lamp over it, making it the perfect place to sit down and read a book. He didn't have many personal belongings like Emmett or Edward did, but he did have a lot of books around, most about the civil war. Where he had picked up an interest in that I did not know, and only hoped it was not an unhealthy obsession.
My own room was bare as well. The room was padded, like for a little child, to make sure I didn't hurt myself during my night terrors and it had never crossed my mind to decorate my room. My room. No one elses, just mine. A whole space, big enough to hold my bed, my clothes and my stuff. I never had anything except my life to call my own before, and even that had been uncertain at most times.
"You alright there?" Alice's concerned voice broke me out of my thoughts. I blinked my eyes to bring my self into the present.
"I was just admiring your room. Did you get new plants?" I asked, tipping my head to indicate the potted ferns that stood on either side of her bed.
"I did! The room needed more green," she stated proudly.
"Do you think I could change my room too?" I asked hesitantly, thinking about adding my own touch to my plain room.
"Of course! And I would love to help! Oh you can do so many things with it!" Alice grabbed my hands in excitement but stopped herself before she could go on a rant, although I could see all the words she wanted to say bubbling behind her eyes. "We can talk abut that later. Don't distract me now."
"Why not?" I asked as Alice let go of my hands and began dumping the content of her bags out, makeup, nail polish and clothing piling out on her green striped sheets.
"Because we're going to do a makeover!" she announced.
"A makeover? Like those things girls do for fun?" I felt a bolt of excitement hit me. I was finally going to do those things that girls did in novels!
"Yup. I saw you reading a bunch of girl magazines and look really sad as you read about these kinds of things, so now we're going to do them. Well, you are. I'm going to do your nails and your hair. Sit down in the chair." I sat down in the chair that Alice gestured to. "Alright, which color do you want?" Alice held up several bottles of nail polish and I shook my head. I wanted Alice to pick a color for me.
"Pick what you think is best for me." Alice contemplated a bit before picking out the red. I held out my hands to her and watched as she carefully dipped the paint brush out and in of the small glass bottle, red paint so much like blood. But instead of being traumatized by it I felt at peace. As if because Alice was using the red, she was replacing some of the bad associations I had with it with more pleasant memories. .
She painted my nails, humming happily as she did. Once done she straightened up and capped the polish. "Don't touch anything or you'll smudge the paint. Now we're going to do hair and makeup." She grabbed the necessary tools and went to work, small hands darting quickly around my face. As she worked, she and I chatted together about frivolous things: things that we wished we could do, things we wished we could see, and things that we liked. And in those few hours it seemed like we really were ordinary girls, as if our biggest concern was getting that top from the store that we wanted.
"Alright, now for the final step, clothes. But first check out your new look." Alice gave me some space as I got up and looked in the mirror of her walk in closet. My lipstick coated lips broke into a smile. I looked really nice. She had used dark colors for my eye shadow and blush but done so subtly that it didn't look over done. The mascara made my eyes look big and innocent and the light red lipstick matched my earlier paint job. As for my hair, she had curled the edges of my now shoulder length locks and swept them into a loose ponytail over the side of one shoulder.
"I look nice." I told Alice and she laughed, a light sound. "Of course you do. You don't need makeup for that." She appeared in front of me, material clutched in her hands. "Try these clothes on. I think they'll look great with this look."
"And what look is it that your trying to go for?" I asked, grabbing it from her and pulling my pants down. But Alice had already flitted out of the closet and gone back to rummaging through her bags. "I also got you a choker. I saw it in the store and it just screamed 'Rosalie' to me so I had to get it, and every other one they had there."
I laughed at this, pulling my top off now. Of course leave it to Alice to do something like that. "How much clothing did you even buy?"
A pause. "You don't wanna know." There was a loud groan. "Shit, Carlisle is gonna kill me when he sees the bills." I finished putting on my outfit and stepped out of the closet.
"What do you think?" I asked, striking a model pose.
Alice gave me an exuberant thumbs up. "I think it's great. Now let's try on something new." And so the pattern went on. I'd try on some clothes, walk around in it, model it for Alice, let her take a picture and then go back and change into something new. I was having so much fun being normal that I forgot about how bored I had been. And forgot about how unnormal we were.
I was in the middle of changing into my new outfit when Alice came into the closet. "I'm sorry, I thought you'd changed already," she squeaked out in embarrassment and covered her mouth with her hand. I was not bothered by this at all. I had been naked too many times in the past to count, so I had absolutely been desensitized to nudity and what sexual meaning it hide. Besides my important bits were clothed.
But Alice stood where she was, mouth still covered and eyes roving all over my body unashamedly. I wasn't as curvy back in those days but given proper nutrition and sleep my body had begun to bloom. My legs were long and shapely, my breasts perky and my face losing its prickly edges and becoming brutally beautiful. I stood still as Alice took in the view of me, with my body held sideways to her, with my arms held in front of me with the shirt I had just been about to slide on, my bare legs starting to feel a bit cold. What was going on? I felt my heart speed up and swallowed, getting ready to ask what was wrong when she spoke first.
"I think I know why my parents tried to exorcise me." She pulled her hand away, her face filled with an unreadable emotion.
"Alice, what are you talking about?" I turned to face her fully, the shirt still in my hands. She looked at me for a while, her unusual quietness unnerving me.
"The Bible says people like me are sinners, are miscreants." She closed her eyes briefly at this, struggling with something big inside her. "So my parents wanted to punish me for this, at least this was a part of it, I think."
I was getting really worried now. I had never seen the pixie have a relapse before, always assuming that since she couldn't remember much she wouldn't have a reason to. But perhaps she could, and that she was about to now. "Alice," I said softly, nervously. Shit, how did I deal with a relapse when my own control was so shitty?
She opened her eyes on hearing me say her name and finally let lose the words she had been struggling to say.
"I'm bisexual."
She gave me a bittersweet smile that made me forget all the reassuring words I had planned on saying to her. My mouth made a shocked expression and I took a step back. I had not been expecting this. A relapse, yes, but a revelation, no.
"Alice," I said, my voice choked. She thought her parents had tried to kill her because she was bi, but how could they have known if she had only been a young child at the time?
"I've been thinking on it a lot. And it makes sense. I used to kiss boys and girls on the cheeks all the time as a child. I didn't know it meant anything, until now. And I've noticed the way I look at men and women. Both genders are equally attractive to me. But I didn't want to admit it to myself yet. I quarreled with the thought that liking girls was impossible and wrong. Seems some of my parents sick punishments and ideology stayed with me." She let out a bitter laugh at this, her eyes dark, arms wrapped around herself. I wanted to go and comfort her but I didn't know how. She was the one who usually comforted others.
"Now, looking at you I realized I couldn't deceive myself for any longer. I like boys and I like girls too. And I like you Rosalie. A lot." Alice bit her lip at this, face suddenly shy as she looked away from me for the first time during this conversation.
Oh, I thought, my head feeling light. Was Alice confessing her feelings to me? She liked me? What did that even mean? Reading romance novels had not prepared me for the real thing.
"It's okay, you don't have to answer me. I know its a lot and you probably think I'm sick since we're supposed to be sisters..." Alice trailed off and I couldn't stand to see her hurt expression. Months ago I would have been thrilled to see an expression like this; it meant my opponent was weakening and that I could move in for the killing blow. But now, after months of extensive therapy and kindness, my humanity was coming back to me. I rushed over to her, dropping my shirt, and grabbed her arms, pulling them away from her chest.
"Alice, I'm just overwhelmed is all. I-I, well no one ever, I mean." I paused to suck in a deep breath and to collect my thoughts, Alice continuing on in my silence.
"I just hope this doesn't change anything between us, that we can still be friends."
She still wasn't looking at me as she said this.
"Alice, look at me." She did and I noticed her eyes were shiny, as if she could burst into tears any second. "I doesn't change anything between us." I racked my brain for things my therapist said to reassure me, or techniques he used. "Except maybe now I can't change in front of you." I smirked, trying to use humor to lighten the situation. Alice looked away at this, blushing madly and I thought that adorable.
"Rosalie," she said, her voice wavering.
"Yea?"
"I really, really, really, wanna kiss you now," she said in barely a whisper. I felt my heart thump at this confession, and some weird buzzing emotion fill my chest. "So could you let go of me before I reach out and grab you?" I should have done as she asked, but I didn't, suddenly wanting to know how it felt like to kiss someone. To know if Alice's lips were as soft as they looked, if she would do what lovers in books did and hold me tight as we kissed. So I stayed put silently, and when Alice turned her head to face me again, it wasn't to talk, although her tongue was involved and the sounds that came from her mouth were ones of joy.
This was the first time I was kissing some one of my own will, and it was exciting, the kind of excitement you get when you wait for something for a long time and then when you finally get it, you rush to go and try it out. That was how my first kiss with her was, and then we both got so excited to try it one more time, that we kissed again. And again and again. I let go of her arms so she could wrap them around my shoulders and pull me closer to her. I only had to bend my head a little so I could kiss her, as I wasn't that tall yet back then, and she stood on her toes, body pressed against mine. Her clothes rubbed against my skin and it felt nice in her warm embrace.
I didn't know if what I was feeling meant I liked Alice. In the romance books it said that kissing the right person would feel right, feel like fireworks, like a sun exploding inside you, like everything was falling into the correct place. Kissing Alice felt exhilarating for sure, so I was going to cling onto this feeling for now and worry about it all afterwards.
At last we parted, and I couldn't tell how long we had been kissing for, except that I was breathless and panting as if I had run a marathon, the taste of Alice's sugary lip gloss coating the inside of my mouth. She too was breathing hard, her cheeks flushed and eyes swirling with intense emotion. We looked at each other a while, our minds trying to catch up with what our bodies had just done, until she pulled her arms away from my neck. She let out a groan as she rubbed a hand over her face.
"Now it's not only kissing that I want to do with you," she admitted with a shaky laugh and I felt an immense pleasure flood through me. I knew exactly what she talking about, and I had no idea her feelings had ran this deep. It wasn't just some innocent crush she had on me. This was going into the rated 18 and up zone.
"Put some clothes on, please. I'm going to go think about this," she said and with that left the room.
The Last Turn of the Clock
A/N: Bet y'all didn't expect that to happen between Rosalie and Alice in the last chapter. But it's important that it did, it helps to shape the current relationship between the two adoptive siblings. I feel like I could have included so much more, like the full extent of Rosalie's relapses, and her wobbly relationship with her other siblings, but I didn't want to make it too dark and depressing. There's the other flashbacks for that, lol.
I was a victim of my own mind, a swirling chaotic place that harbored no concept of sense or self. Voices, images, thoughts, all swirled into one hurricane of bright pain and I was going to go insane, my brain was going to explode from all this that I tried to keep inside, I was going to-
"Rosalie." A tired sigh. Carlisle sat in front of me on the couch, his glasses off and fingers pressed into his eyes. I was in the Cullen's living room, my thought process having been interrupted by him. He wanted me to answer him, so I didn't say anything. I waited for him to do it. I was in no mood to talk, my attitude as foul as the air in a coal mine.
"Why did you hurt that man?" Carlisle pulled his fingers away from his eyes and looked at me with a weary gaze. A gaze that said 'I'm tired of your shit'. I didn't respond.
"Rosalie, you have to talk to me. I can't help you until you explain to me what you were thinking, doing that to some stranger." No response. "If you can't help me then I can't help you, Rosalie. It'll get out into the news, the state will hear and you'll go into the asylum for good. There will be no plea bargaining, no deal making this time. Do you understand me?"
I just huffed and crossed my arms tighter over my chest. The threat of the asylum freaked me out, but I wasn't going to admit that. I didn't want to tell Carlisle what had really happened. The truth was I had relapsed again. Just a week after being freed from the tracking bracelet and being able to go outside, I had collapsed in on myself.
I had gone on a grocery run with Edward, as no one bought any snacks that I liked, only the healthy crap, and so I needed to personally pick out which fat soaked and calorie ladden food I would eat today. The weather had been nice, and I enjoyed the way the breeze picked up my stray hairs as I walked. Edward wasn't much of talker which suited me, as I didn't know what to talk with him about. He looked deep in thought anyways, his eyes brooding and mouth downturned in probably what was deep philosophical thought. In the months since I had known him, he was always spouting some self depreciating crap about not being good enough, about failing his family. That he wanted to live life for all his dead siblings but felt he failed at it. I had quickly gotten annoyed with this and told him to shut up with all the contempt I could muster. I told him to get over himself and he listened. Well, at least in my presence he didn't do that anymore. I don't know if he went back to his room and moped there, but as long as it was not in front of me, I was fine.
I too was deep in thought, but not about my past for once. This time I was thinking about all that Alice had said. Did she really mean those words? And what did they mean for the both of us now? I needed to consult a book for this, as the web and TV were still strictly off limits for me.
So we were walking down the street, some men giving me appreciative stares. Edward too, had a couple of middle school girls swooning over him. He was entering the early stages of adulthood, his chest gaining more definition, his height increasing and his baby face becoming chiseled and strong. I failed to find the attraction in him. He looked like a whiny little priss and when he opened his mouth, that only amplified.
We entered the grocer's and a normal pair of kids would have split up to go search for their own things before meeting to pay for it at the cashier, but I was still under surveillance and he was on guard duty, a taser hidden in one of his skinny jeans pants pockets.
He followed me around as I picked out my snacks and gave me a disdainful snort when I put in the fifth bag of potato chips into my basket. "What?" I asked, mildly irritated as he was interrupting my thought process on what to do with the Alice situation.
"You shouldn't be eating that unhealthy crap, it's bad for you."
"Edward, I'll eat whatever I want." I snapped back, spitefully dumping the whole row of chips into my basket. Some didn't make it in and fell on the floor.
"Rosalie, what are you doing? Don't act up, because I trying to help you. A healthy body makes a healthy mind." He recited something our therapists always said to us as he knelt down to pick up the chip bags I had toppled.
"You'll help me by shutting the fuck up," I growled back, suddenly angry. Who was this twig to tell me what to do with my life. I had enough of following people's orders and rules. "It's my body, and I'll eat whatever I want." I stomped away to the next aisle, eyes roving in a craze to find the next worst thing to eat just to spite him and his stupid ideas.
"Don't be like this. I'm just trying to tell you that you can't eat these foods. You know what the doctors said. I would have never agreed to go downtown with you if I had known this would occur." He followed after me and watched in growing annoyance as I shoveled more food into my already overflowing basket. "What is this really about? Tell me what has you angry so that we can talk about it." He put his hands into his pockets and I could imagine him thumbing the taser button, ready to use the device on me. I felt even angrier at that. In fact I didn't even know why I was so angry all of a sudden. I had been in a normal enough mood on my way to the store, but now I was livid, livid enough to do something drastic. My thoughts were swirling and my body felt heated and ready to pounce. Maybe it was because I hadn't had an anger spell in so long that this was happening now? I didn't know but I didn't care enough to try to calm down.
"I don't want to talk to you about why I'm angry. Just let me eat my foods!" I nearly screamed at the end, my hands shaking in frustration, my control over my body spiraling away from me quickly. "Why don't you tell others what kind of food they should eat? Why you always pick on me?" My behavior was now drawing the attention of the shoppers. Mothers pulled their children close to them, others backed up, others pretended to be engrossed in their shopping but were actually listening in.
"Rosalie, lets drop the topic then. Let's talk about something else. Let's go outside." Edward insisted, his voice stern but I could see the way his shoulders twitched. He was afraid of me. He had never had to handle my full relapse before, by himself. But I wasn't done. I wanted to hurt someone, tear them apart with my words. I wanted to punch him. "Why don't you tell Emmett how to eat? Or Jasper?" Before I knew what I was doing my hands dipped into my basket and I hurled a pack of chips on each boys name, straight into Edward's thin chest. It bounced off harmlessly but he flinched as if he had been struck by something much harder. "What about Alice, huh? Or why didn't you tell your parents? I'm sure they could have used the advice. Would have been a much better choice than eating their own kids." I knew I shouldn't have said that but I didn't care. I was out of control. I watched as Edward's whole body seemed to undergo a chain reaction. He sucked in a deep breath as if he were underwater and unable to breathe. His face paled, contorted in pain, and his eyes lost focus. His body twitched backwards, his arms jerking out of his pants pockets in shock.
"Rosalie..." he trailed off in a broken whisper. I had pushed him close to the edge and it felt good. I threw my basket at him in that moment, him too stunned to move. It hit him square in the chest with a huge thud and he fell heavily to the floor, food spilling around him. I turned on my heel and ran outside, my thoughts moving painfully fast. Everything was too loud and too bright. I had to leave, had to find a dark place to hide in, I had to, had to, had to, before I completely unraveled. But I had lost sense of where I even was. All I could see around me were blurs of passing by people, blurs of buildings. So I just ran, and ran, needing to get away from all this.
I ran down the streets, pedestrians giving me a wide berth at the crazed look on my face, some asking me if I was okay, but I didn't register any of this. My only thoughts were run, run, run. I was approaching a crosswalk, one that led across the street to a park that I could hide in. I would stay there until I could control myself once more, control the anger and fear fighting inside me. And that was when I saw him.
He looked just like him, just like that man. Same long black hair. Same squared back. No it wasn't someone that looked like him, but was him. He was trying to come back into my life, trying to ruin me again, trying to drag me back into the personal hell he had created for me. I couldn't let him do that, couldn't let him back in. I wouldn't let him take away the second chance at life I had been given.
He had his back to me, standing on the street corner and waiting for the light to change, but I knew. I knew he was trying to play nonchalant. He was trying to pretend to be another pedestrian, trying to blend in. I would get him before he even knew what was happening.
I ran full force, my vision zeroed in on him. Using the full weight of my body I lowered my head and rammed my shoulder into his back, hard. He let out a huge cry of surprise as he catapulted forwards off of the sidewalk, his shout lost under the sound of screeching tires and breaking glass. I stopped just on the edge of the street and rested my hands on my knees, tired out from running for so long. I could now hear again, shrill screams registering in my ears. When I straightened up, my thoughts finally clearing up, I saw what I had done and my lips twisted up in a sneer. He was lying on the ground unmoving and blood pooling around him. The car that had hit him had a dented hood, the front glass broken in, small pieces littered around the drivers head which was buried into the car pillow from his wheel. He too wasn't moving. Tire marks were behind the car, the smell of burnt rubber thick in the air. The driver had tried to stop, but he was too late. A couple of people had noticed this accident and were panicking, phones out and debating what to do now.
But I ignored them and stared at the body on the floor, its long black hair soaking in his own life source. I had done it, he would never hurt me again. I felt truimphance course through my veins. Never again would he ever hurt me, or anyone else. But my feelings of happiness were cut sort when I felt a huge surge of electricity from behind me. My body seized up in shock, my mouth opening in a silent scream but all I did was crash down hard to the pavement. I caught a glimpse of a grim faced Edward above me before I blacked out.
I returned back to my present thoughts only to find that I was still on the couch with a passively angry Carlisle. He was looking at me expectantly as if I was going to blurt out the truth to him. He had that sort of patient air about him that said he would wait no matter how long it took. But I would be stronger. I didn't want him to know about my relapse. If he did, he would imprison me in the house again.
"I bumped into him on the street, is all." I find myself saying, unnerved by the patient look in his eyes. It's the same way therapists look at you, as if they can see all your dirty little secrets but still want the pleasure of extracting it painfully out of you, word by word.
Carlisle tipped his head but said nothing. "It wasn't on purpose, I swear." I put my hands in my lap now, squeezing my fingers tight together.
"Edward told me you were very agitated in the store."
"That's cause he was being an asshole!" I growled back immediately and regretted my outburst. Now Carlisle would be able to deconstruct my actions if he hadn't already, and piece together what had happened.
"Rosalie, lets talk about what made you angry." He placed his fingertips together and stared at me above them. "Edward said it had something to do with food." He waited for me to add something but I didn't. I didn't have an answer for him. I simply didn't know why I had been mad. I hadn't even felt mad in a long time. Had the mention of eating unhealthy food provoked me? But if I thought about Edward scolding me on that topic now I didn't feel angry at all, just mildly annoyed.
"You were doing so well, what happened? You haven't had a temper tantrum in weeks since you went to the mental hospital. I understand that you didn't feel angry after you hurt the man anymore, but why was that?" I shifted on the couch. He already knew the answer so why was he asking me?
"I've seen the photos of that man and the stranger and they don't look at all similar, except for the black hair." I gulped nervously, my head crowding uncomfortably with snippets from my past. I had thought I would finally rid the source of evil from my life but I had failed, instead hurting someone completely innocent. Carlisle seemed to notice I was getting unstable so he dropped that line of thought. "Thankfully the man has not decided to press charges. Which is kind of him, considering the fact that he will never walk again without some sort of assistance. But Mr. Black did put a restraining order on you. Your not allowed to step foot on the Tribal Reservation ever or he will take you to court."
I flinched at this, unable to hide my relief. So there wasn't going to be a big affair. I let my eyes close and my head to lean back on the couch. "That doesn't mean you won't receive any punishment's young lady. You must learn to deal with your consequences." There was a swish of movement as Carlisle stood up, his doctor coat crumpled up from having been sat on for so long. I cracked an eye open to look at him. "Esme will be in charge again." Oh goody, what sort of interesting punishment would she give me now? After the handcuffs, tasering and ankle bracelet she was starting to remind me a lot of the person I hated most in this world. I wondered if the other kids had gotten such a treatment.
The next day I soon found out that peeling potatoes for hours on end in some soup kitchen was a new form of hell.