Edward and I whirled around and around the room. I'd never felt so beautiful as I did when I looked up to find Edward staring at me intently. The look in his eyes stirred something within me, made me feel fierce, regal and protective.

The music ended with a flourish and I somehow ended up in Edward's arms with him looking down at me. I smiled at him and closed my eyes, anticipating his next move.

Only it never came.

I opened my eyes to see him on the other side of the room, face guarded, wearily watching me. I guess in a second what had happened. My scent had gotten to him again.

"I'm sorry." He says in a low voice, looking disgusted with himself.

I sigh. "It's not your fault."

"It is." He disagrees. "I should be stronger."

"You couldn't possibly be any stronger." I say softly. He turns his back to me to and stares out of the window. I start to walk towards him when something sticking out of a cupboard door on a high shelf distracts me.

I reach up there and open the cupboard door, wondering what I'd seen and cannot believe my eyes when I see that the cupboard is crammed full of leather journals. Sneaking a glance at Edward's turned back I casually reach for the brown leather journal which had been sticking out of the cupboard and examine it.

In pale faded gilt lettering down the side was the number "1933." With a sudden thrill I realised that it was a date, the date the journal had been written and surely it belonged to Edward. It would be about fifteen years after his transformation, all his feelings and thoughts.

But it was private.

I glanced at Edward again who still had his back turned to me and I realised I simply had to look at the journal, private or not. I wanted to understand as much as I possibly could about Edward, plus reading a journal from someone alive that long ago was a fascinating concept to me.

I gingerly opened a random page in the aged journal and began reading the neat spiral handwriting inside.

12th April 1933

Downstairs in Carlisle's office a screaming blonde girl lies. She has been screaming continually for the past two days now and quite frankly I'm getting tired of hearing it.
Carlisle has the patience of a saint, as usual and Esme feels too much compassion for the near dead girl to complain.
I know of the blonde girl lying on the table that is to be her deathbed. I've seen her walking around town, very self-absorbed, for Rosalie Hale is the supposed beauty of Rochester.
And she is very beautiful I suppose and will be even more so once her transformation is complete but such a shallow mind will never appeal to me for all Rosalie Hale thinks about is herself.
She's not lying on that table screaming just because of the pain of transformation but because she lost her chance at human life, of being happy and having a child like her friend Vera. This is what she lies here thinking about on that table when she is not convinced she is dying.
I do see why Carlisle saved her, in his mind it was a shame to waste such a young life, so cruelly taken but I think it was a stupid thing to do given that Rosalie's face is one of the most recognised in Rochester.
I fear Carlisle, from hints I have picked up in his mind, has turned Rosalie in the hope that she will be one day to me what Esme is to him.

I stopped reading with a gasp and a split second later the journal is yanked out of my hands. I look up to see a furious Edward glaring at me. "That's private!" He hisses.

"I'm so sorry." I mumble. "I had no right… I just saw it and… I'm sorry."

Edward's face softens slightly. "I'm sorry Bella." He murmurs. "It's just that I wasn't expecting you to… I was a different person back then. I'm ashamed of some of the things I thought." He glanced at the journal. "1933. I guess you read of Rosalie?"

"Yes." I mutter, avoiding eye contact although he didn't sound angry.

He chuckles. "It took us all, me especially, a long while to get used to Rosalie's shallow mind."

"I… uh. Is it true what you suspected Carlisle of doing?" I ask incoherently.

"Yes." Edward says simply. "He transformed Rosalie with the sub-conscious idea of providing a mate for me."

"You could have had Rosalie yet you chose me?" I ask incredulously. "I could never compete with her."

"There's no competition." Edward growls. "I never saw her that way. I always loved her like a sister and she me like a brother, regardless of her appearance. Besides, you're much more beautiful than her."

"You would say that. You're biased." I muter.

"Oh really?" He chuckles softly. "Any other questions?"

"Yes. Why was Rosalie dying? I'm assuming that's why Carlisle changed her?" I ask.

Edward's expression darkens. "Oh yes. Carlisle would never do this to someone who had another choice."

"So why?" I ask again.

"As a mind reader I know much more than I probably should. Every private thought anyone around me has ever had. It's not my story to tell, it's Rosalie's, please don't ask me about it." He says quietly.

"Okay Edward." I say quietly. "I understand." And I respected him for it too, he knew everything through no fault of his own yet he kept it to himself. He looks relieved at my agreement. "So, why do you keep journals when you have a crystal clear memory?" I ask lightly.

"Just a habit from my human years." He laughs. "I was very studious and I wanted to retain some part of my human self now I was a vampire."

"And you have a journal for every year?" I continue.

"Yes." He says simply. "Ever since I was aware of my transformation."

"Can I see another year?" I ask and his expression darkens again. "Please?" I ask earnestly.

He sighs in defeat. "One year only." He says grudgingly.

I root through the cupboard eagerly and pull out a battered looking journal that said "1927" down the side. It grabbed my attention. It was only ten years after Edward's transformation in 1917, before Rosalie. "Not that one." Edward says quickly, reaching for the journal.

I place it behind my back out of his reach. "Why not?" I ask curiously.

"There are some things… particularly that year, that I'm ashamed of." He says quietly, meeting my eyes steadily.

I take that information in before replying. "I won't judge you. Please, trust me." I say earnestly before opening the journal. Edward gives in with a sigh and sits on the wide black-leather couch as I begin to read.