CHAPTER 6
Yes guys, I am very aware of how long it has been since I updated, but I have been trying to figure out the best way for the story to go... I wasn't happy with the contents of the last few chapters; I felt the rape scene didn't have enough feeling in it. All week I have been debating on what I should do to fix it. I have gotten outside advise from my beta for my other story NEW FRIENDS OLD FLAMES, but now she is my beta for ALL my stories.
I figured that you guys didn't want to go backwards so I have come to the conclusion that I am not re-writing ANY chapters, at least not until after I have finished writing. I am changing things a bit. This story was initially planned as a dark, very emotional story; I feel this chapter helps bring out that vibe!
bella point of view
Flashback-November 28th 1780
Bella age 13
Rosie age 16
"Bella," Rosalie called me, from her doorway. I walked ever so slowly to her bedroom door.
"What Rose? I don't feel like playing make-over today, Daddy is taking me out on the boat and you know what he always says 'hide natural beauty, not make it more defined until your 40!'" Rose helped me finish. To be truthful I didn't even understand what the saying meant-all I understood was that I wasn't allowed any make-up until I menstruated. But that's another foreign word to me. All I understood was no make-overs if I am going to hang out with my dad.
"I don't want to give you a make-over" she stroked my face adoringly. I looked at her weirdly, usually all Rosie EVER wants to do is apply make-up, only to remove it all only to start all over again. "I just want to talk to you a little, do you want me to plait your hair and place it in a bun?"
I nodded my head eagerly as the last time when daddy tried, mother had to cut some of the ends off because it was that matted it was 'unladylike'. We walked over to her bed she sat down first and I sat in her lap, ok well more like plopped. But strangely she just let out a groan and helped me so I fit in there easier.
She started to brush my hair, removing all of the knots gently. "Bella…" she breathed "You probably won't understand this, and might not for a very long time but…" she groaned "gosh this is harder than he said it would be" she mumbled under her breath. "I love you, nobody could ever replace you or the love I have for you." She started to plait the base of my hair.
"But in life there are different types of love, although I love you, I love other things as well."
"Like Mummy and Daddy?" I asked, still confused and wondering what the purpose of the conversation was. I already learnt how to share her three ways, all that was left to decide was how much Roy (and there I shuddered) should have of MY rosie.
"Yes, like Mummy and Daddy, but also a man." she pulled my head around to face her.
"A man?" I whispered, she nodded.
"A man, and when a man and a women love each other, the women has an obligation to move in with the man, which in turn means that the women sees less and less of her family." she turned my head away from hers to finish my plait.
I wasn't sure if she saw my horrified expression or not but she continued to plait.
"But Rose, you aren't going to be leaving me anytime soon, right?" I questioned, she froze. At least I thought she froze, then she tapped my shoulder lightly awaiting the hair tie to tie my hair back out of my face.
"I am sorry, Bells." she mumbled very quietly, I was sure I was hearing things.
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November 30th 1780
Bella age 13
Rosie age 16
"NO, NO, NO!" I bellowed "Y-Y-YO-YOU Y-YOU ARE A LIAR, GET OUT!" Tears were burning down my splotchy face. "I SAID G-GET OOUUUT! NOW!" my voice was cracking, sounding high pitched.
The man didn't move-he stood rooted in our living area looking expectantly at my blubbering and sobbing parents. "DID YOU NOT HEAR ME?" I yelled. My voice was getting higher and raspy. I walked over to the strange man, I jumped, as high as I could go. I reached my arm up to his ear when I had my feet securely on the ground and my hand wrapped around this LYING mans ear. I pulled, yanked and dragged said man to our front door and locked him outside.
"Daddy" I whispered walking back into the living room where my parents where huddled stiff in there standing positions. "Daddy" I said louder but still raspy from yelling. "Tell me he is lying," he looked at me in the eyes, his own glistening with unshed tears. "please!" I begged with more and more tears flowing down my cheeks.
I crawled to his feet, "Daddy please tell me Rosie is coming home." I got a good hold of his booted feet and my mothers narrow pointed healed shoes. "Mummy tell me he was wrong, tell me she is just going for a walk?" I looked between my two parents. My mother's eyes mirroring my fathers, pain, guilt and regret.
"I'm sorry honey." My father finally spoke. "But what the strange man spoke was the truth, she is really gone." He was struggling to keep the sobs at bay. "She died on the way back from her friend's this morning."
I shook my head violently, "No, NO, NO! You are lying, you are all liars, I hate you. I HATE YOU! STOP LYING AND BRING HER HOME, BRING HER HOME!" I screamed, I could no longer feel my voice box, my vision was blurring together worse than it was with the overloaded tears. My parents where fuzzing together, black spots where filling colouring my parents, a loud scream filled my ears, than everything went dark!
5th December 1780
Bella age 13
Days since Rosalie's death: 5.
At the funeral.
"Thank you!" my parents would say.
"My condolences." The guests would greet-all except for one, all except for him. The devils spawn.
"You do realise, Renee that we had a deal, I was to marry your child in exchange for $40, 000, and you know what?" he sneered "I have no wife and I am stuck with money that I shouldn't have nor money I need, so what do you say to a little swap, I give you $20 000 for the youngest and I take her as she is?" he grinned evilly.
"Excuse me?" my mother whisper yelled. "This is my eldest daughters funeral, your fiancée's funeral and you are offering me" she screeched "money for the only daughter I have left!" she glared and my father joined her side. I was told to stand out of the way, so I was behind a bush in the graveyard.
"My daughter for one is not of age, two is not for sale and three, she is to choose her own future!" Mummy yelled lightly but in her angry voice.
"And" my father emphasised "if you come near her, I will personally harm you socially, mentally and physically, am I understood?" he simply saluted, turned towards me, winked and walked away!
March 21st 1781
Bella 14
[Would have been] Rosalie's 17th birthday
"Father you cannot make me, I don't want to go, please?" I begged. Mother requested to have the house to herself in the afternoon, so father was trying to get me to go out on the boat with him. Ever since Rosalie's death we haven't been ourselves, we haven't been on the boat, mother hasn't touched her room, every time she walks past she bolts back to her room in tears. She has not said her name in months, she claims it to be 'to painful'.
She makes up stupid phrases like 'daughters are meant to bury their mothers not the other way around' and 'elders before youngsters'. Today was no different the morning started off depressing the afternoon was no better and then by nightfall it was bed time and we cried ourselves to sleep.
Father couldn't seem to pull me over to the boat so we resorted to going to the shops in hopes of buying a small gift to place on the grave stone of my beloved sister. For months Father and I have been attending the grave site of Rosie just to keep her company and tell her about our week. As a gift for Christmas I was allowed the chance to decide what the inscription on Rosie's tomb stone read. I chose:
Rosalie Marie Swann
March 21st 1764 – November 30th 1780
Beloved sister and daughter
Beauty, grace and winged Swann.
I believed that the inscription was very well chosen, she was the most beautiful person on the inside and out. There was nothing she loved more than family and she would do absolutely anything to help out a loved one.
Father and I walked along the market searching for the most delicate, floral roses throughout our home town of Forks, to place on her grave. After we chose the reddest roses out of the bunch we set off to her grave stone, because the body was never found we buried an empty wooden box and placed her favourite items in there for her to take to the next life.
I kneeled down next to her grave and said a quick prayer and spread the rose petals on the grass around the stone, I then placed the newly picked and thorn free red rose on top of her stone. "I love you Rose." I kissed the stone where her name was written. I grabbed a firm hold of Father's hand and we set off for home.
As we walked over the threshold of the house I let go of Father's hand and set off to the bathroom to wash-up. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, dusted my clothes off and set off to find my father. I heard gasping for breath coming from my parents room so I sprinted, as well as could be expected in a dress, to my parents room.
The first picture my eyes painted was my father hunched over a lying down mother, but as I looked closer, my father was shaking, and my mother was not moving. It appeared as if she were stiff?
I walked towards the middle of the room where the large bed my parents slept in stood. There appeared to be a rip in the quilt. As I got closer to the rip, it got more defined it wasn't a rip it was a letter. It was from Rosalie's stationary kit of paper and envelope.
I picked up the light letter and slowly opened it, as I gently pulled the letter out of the envelope, there was two sentences written:
The children are supposed to bury their parents, parents are not supposed to bury their children! I am making this right.
Renee Swann
I gasped and turned towards my father, but it wasn't my father that shocked me it was mother. She wasn't breathing, she appeared stiff, father was crying and most importantly the linen tied to the roof making a ring at the end dangling towards the ground.
'I am making this right. Children are supposed to bury their parents not the other way around.' I have lost my sister and now my mother had taken herself from my life as well.
TO BE CONTINUED!
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