Summary: Everyone knew the Cullens, yet no one knew who they were. Yet what they did know is that each Cullen had their own beauty, except for one who was more beautiful than everyone else. Rosalie Hale. She was cold and bitter to everyone, except her own family. Yet she has her own story to define that out.
N/A; I really hope you guys like this story, this is the first Twilight fic I am actually writing, so I really hope you guys will like it.

Chapter 1; The Beginning

It was the year 1915 in Rochester New York. The year where everything seemed so simple and easy. The ladies would have their husbands already picked out, if they liked it or not. Every woman was gorgeous. There wasn't anything flawless about them. They had their own way some way or another. One their eyes were as beautiful as the sky, the other their skin would be as soft as a baby and so on. Yet there was one woman every other women envied. Rosalie Lilly Hale. She was beautiful. No words could describe it. Nobody could ignore her. And every men wanted her. Yet she already had her fiancé. Royce.

A well known man that had stolen her heart. Everyone around her seemed to have been getting married. Just as her best friend Vera did. Something she thought would only happen after she got married, yet it didn't. And as every night, Rosalie would spent the evening with Vera, discussing and talking about her wedding until the day was finally there. When the wedding had actually happened, Rosalie was the bride's maid as well as the witness of the bride. Vera looked like the most beautiful woman that day, yet of course Rosalie and everyone else knew that she was the most beautiful woman out there. As soon as the wedding was done, the days passed on quickly. Rosalie had let Vera some time alone with her fresh husband, and stayed at home for a couple of days.

She only went to see Vera again when Vera called her. A smile formed on Rosalie's perfect lips when she saw Vera shine the minute she opened the door. The two best friends were thrilled just to have one of them being married. Even if they both knew Rosalie's marriage wouldn't last all that long. They laughed the entire evening, drank coffee and talked even more about what Rosalie was missing out on in the married life.

The more they actually talked, the more the time passed on faster. Rosalie eventually realized, just as Vera – because they both knew how Royce could be – that it was time for Rosalie to go back home. Having Rosalie and Vera saying their goodbyes, Rosalie went on her way once again to go back home. There was darkness that was surrounding her. And even if it was quiet in Rochester, the streets where still dangerous at night. Many women have been sexually harassed as well as men being killed. Which is why Rosalie wasn't at all feeling comfortable while passing by a dark alley. She had folded her arms over each other multiple times, trying to keep the cold and scariness away from her. Yet nothing seemed to actually work. She was too weak Arriving near the nearest pub, she passed by it quickly yet heard a male voice call after her. Turning around to face who it was, she saw it was her fiancé who was once again drunk.

"Hey Rosy, what are you doing out so late, give me a kiss." He spoke out.

She could reek the scent of the alcohol from where she was standing, several feet away from him. It disgusted her. It always had. Each time when he had gotten home, she nearly had to vomit just with the scent of it. Rosalie refused to go towards him and turned back around.

"I'm going home Royce." She spoke out in a soft and quiet tone, and started walking again.

Which when she had felt two hands gripping her firmly, the scent of alcohol being stronger. Her disgust became worse. She felt like she was going to vomit right there and then, yet she couldn't. She couldn't even move. She felt how he ripped apart her white dress, how his greedy hands roamed over her body greedily.

"Royce, stop it!" She called out multiple times, as well as help, yet he didn't stop.

He had placed a hand over her mouth. As soon as she had stopped screaming, he had pushed her onto the pavement ground outside, leaving her already a bruise as well as probably a mark from where had fallen.

Then she felt it. She felt the pain she didn't want to feel until marriage; he was sexually violating her. His hands still roaming up her body greedily, his moans coming out his parted lips. When he was actually done and his share of pleasure, he left her there for dead, kicked her several times and disappeared. She felt the pain, yet couldn't move a muscle nor even breath. Her life was hanging on a little wire.