Okay kids, here is Rosalie! This version of her tale is slightly graphic, just to warn you. It does deal with her almost-death, so you have been warned. Remember; this is just the start of Rosalie's story, so please give her time to develop into the Rose we all know and love to hate : )
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Rosalie : 1933
No one ever thinks they will ask for their own death.
But when there is no more hope left to cling to, no light at the end of the tunnel, no shimmering thought left of escape, people would often be surprised at what they find themselves asking for.
She had begged for her death.
She had always loved her home of Rochester, New York. It was a beautiful part of the city, always teeming with life and activity, and she had lived in the center of that activity since she was a child. It was quaint and peaceful like a country, small town would be, yet was built up enough to have all the modern conveniences of a large town, teeming with life. She had often scoffed at the idea of living in a country town; remote places were not her cup of tea.
Yes, Rochester was a charming, quaint section of the city with its wrought iron fences, blooming flower boxes hanging off every balcony, and picturesque lamp posts that decorated the cobblestone streets.
But on that chilly fall night, Rosalie Hale was not taking the time to think about these certain aspects of the Rochester streets where she now laid.
In fact, she was wishing that the wrought iron fence could be stabbed through her gut to end her suffering. She wished she could rip the flowers out of their pretty window boxes to make them feel her pain. She wanted the lamp posts to shine their light on her drunken murderers and show their faces to the town. She wanted the hard, cobblestone bricks to show the blood that Royce King had beaten out of her, so that everyone she had ever met could know about this catastrophe.
She lay there, listening to his group of friends as they drunkenly stumbled down the street. Their voices echoed off the walls of the adjacent buildings as they turned into an alley to continue their intoxicated escapade elsewhere.
He just left me like a piece of trash thrown down on the side of the street…he didn't even care, she thought bitterly to herself. She coughed as she lay there, sprawled on the corner of the road. Almost instantly she cringed as the rusty, acrid taste of blood saturated her tongue. Trying to roll onto her side wasn't going to be possible; she was certain that her back was broken, or at least almost broken. Royce's friends' first attempt at trying to get access up and into her chiffon skirt did not work well. Charles had earned himself a desperate kick to the groin.
She was rewarded for that with three hard men's dress shoes to her back and gut. She had heard several snaps, and she recalled thinking, 'What was that? My back? My spine? My ribs? What's next?'
No, rolling over was not an option, she thought again. She began to gag as blood continued to fill her mouth, seeping out the sides of her lips and down her perfect, ivory face.
This was not how it was supposed to end for me…I can't die like this…I was supposed to be a 'lady of the town'…I was supposed to be the queen of that house…I was supposed to have beautiful children….
One main thought swirled in her mind. This is not how it is supposed to be for me.
Then, another thought entered her mind. He left me here to die. Well, he got his wish…I am going to die.
As soon as that last thought entered her mind, her body shook again with a violent spasm and she heaved up another mouthful of blood. Sputtering and gagging at the taste, she let a fresh set of hot tears roll down her cheeks where the blood was beginning to dry and crack.
She wasn't sure how long she had laid there. In her mind, it already felt like a millennia ago that she had left the home of her childhood friend; Rosalie had gone to admire her new baby. Time had stopped hours before, when she had caught the gleam of something else in Royce's eyes. Evil.
No, Royce certainly did not have the look of an adoring fiancé as he watched his friends violate her again and again. Once she had been kicked and beaten so badly that moving or fighting back was no longer an option, she was quick to find Royce's gaze. She held it the entire time.
She coughed again, another mouthful of blood and spit falling out of the sides of her mouth. Various cuts and bruises covered her body, but her face had taken the worst beating of them all.
"No one will ever want you when I'm finished….how does that make you feel to know that I was the first and the last to have you? He had hissed in her ear.
Shame had filled her heart, fury filled her mind, and Royce's disgusting excuse for manhood had filled her womanly region as he violated her. His hands were everywhere all at once; just the thought of it churned her stomach as she thought about it.
I was going to marry him. I was going to let him father my children. I was going to build a life with him…that…that monster.
Hot tears burned against her chapped cheeks; she had been out in the chilly night for several hours now, and it was quite cold in New York already. Her cuts were all lined with dirt and soot from the cobblestones, making them burn and sting worse than they already did.
I want to die.
The cold air of the street where she lie seemed to throb with silence; it was an eerie silence. Her head rolled back in defeat onto the hard street, and she heaved another blood spattered cough. Her eyes fell on her hand that was stretched out on the ground beside her. The blood running down the gashes in her arm perfectly matched the red nail polish that graced her fingernails. Just days before, she had gone to the department store makeup counter and requested "bright, blood red nail enamel'. It was irony at its worst.
A sudden gust of wind drew her to the present and suddenly alerted her that she was not alone. She squinted up, her beaten, swollen eyes still blurry. Blinking, more salty tears expelled themselves from her violet blue eyes that felt bloodshot and sore.
A figure stood in the street, about twenty yards away. It was a tall, young man, dressed in a dark trench coat, and he stood out of the light of the lamppost she was laying under.
The hairs on her arm and the back of her neck stood up in fear once again. Her body and mind were screaming at her that something wasn't right with this man. She managed to squeeze her eyes shut and move over onto her side with great effort. Pain shot through her entire body, but she was able to cough up the rest of the blood that was starting to leak down into her already rasping lungs.
She tried to open her eyes further and focus. The black stones that made up the street were streaked with her blood, and several long chunks of her hair were lying on the street beside her, the golden locks now dyed almost red with the liquid.
She gasped and moaned as she attempted to drag herself along the slick surface. She glanced back, wincing in pain. The man was even closer now, and her gut instinct was to get away from him before some other horrible thing happened to her. Her shoes made a sickening slipping sound as they tried in vain to push her broken body along the frozen street. It made an echoing sound against the brick buildings that lined the street, each time making her feel more and more dread.
But it was no use. She could no longer feel her legs, and her lungs weren't giving her enough air to even take a full breath. Her ribs and stomach felt like they were in pieces inside of her, and the only thing keeping them there was her skin. With a loud sob, she rolled over onto her stomach, giving up.
Let him take me. Maybe at least he'll finish the job and kill me to ease my pain.
The tip of her nose hit the pavement, and she leaned forward on her forehead, letting the tears fall freely as the sobs wracked her beaten body. She could hear the footsteps of the man approaching, and her slender frame began to shake with fear and panic.
There was a pause, and he knelt down beside her. "Rosalie?" he asked, gently pulling a few curls back from her face so see if that was indeed who she was.
Rosalie recognized him as the young doctor that had moved into town a few years before. She couldn't remember his name, but she had always remembered his beautiful, kind face.
He turned her over carefully, her eyes rolling back in her head from the pain of having her back moved again. A pained look crossed his face, and he quickly scooped her up into his arms. She cried in muffled sobs as the doctor carried her. Everything hurt, and everything felt like it was bleeding. They were flying down the streets, her cuts and cigar burns that were still fresh stung as the night air hit them. She continued to cry as she wished again for the still, painless relief of death to find her.
It wouldn't come.
Why can't I just die? Death should not be like this. Death should be peaceful.
So, as one can see, she had been begging for her life. Begging for it to end, that is.
And she still was.
When she next was able to recognize her surroundings, she found herself on a cold, hard operating table in a strange house. Her eyes were blurred with panic and tears, and her mind could barely hold a coherent thought she was in so much pain.
She shrieked and moaned and gasped at the sudden fire that now ripped through her veins. It seared through her limbs, her stomach, her lungs, her throat, her mind, her heart. So much pain, and all of it unexplained.
"K-kill m-m-me…." She managed to gasp, her lips spewing the words. "P-p-please-e-e-e…ki-ll me."
She cringed as her body shook; the fire was raging so quickly and thoroughly through her veins that it felt like she would shake herself off the table. Not that it would have mattered. It felt like if she did manage to fall off, she would land as a pile of charred ash.
Her eyes fluttered open. She struggled and gritted her teeth to get them to look forward instead of roll back into her head from the fire that now tortured her body. She dug deep and used her steel nerves to force them open far enough to see three figures standing in the room with her, one at the far end and the other two on either side.
Her surroundings were a dimly lit, richly decorated office space in a house she did not recognize. Had the doctor taken her to his home to help her? Hopefully he would just take pity on her and kill her off. But no help came. The fires of hell continued to rage through her body.
"I d-don't…want…t-to live," she finally managed to say. She coughed, choking up another mouthful of blood that trickled down the sides of her face. Her mind could barely form the words she so desperately needed to speak; it was busy trying to contemplate and overcome the blaze inside her body.
A cool, smooth, masculine hand ran down her arm, rubbing it gently. Although the temperature of the skin touching hers was a small fraction of relief, the pressure was not. Even the smallest amount sent her into stitches of gasps and winces. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to still herself from shaking and making more contact with the hard table.
"You're hurting her, Carlisle," a voice said.
"My hand?"
She felt him raise his hand up and away from her body, and she was glad to be away from the pressure of the touch but was already missing the cool temperature.
"Is this hard for you to watch?"
"Yes."
The two men continued to speak quietly, and she listened carefully to hear any clues as to what was happening.
Where was I? And how did I get here? I think…I think that was the doctor that lives in Rochester with his wife and her brother? Edmund, was it? Why is everything so hard to think about… she thought to herself, fighting tooth and nail with her foggy mind.
"Edward," the younger male voice said. "My name is Edward," he repeated.
Wait, did he…how did he know I was….
"I can hear your mind, yes," he replied.
You…you read minds? Read mine. I want to die. Please kill me. I want this to be over. Please….
"What is it, son?"
"She wants us to kill her," the young voice answered again.
She heard a faint gasp from the female beside her that she had forgotten about.
"We couldn't! It's too late, anyhow…Carlisle?"
There was a pause in the room.
"I could never," the first voice said. "We cannot make any decisions until the change is final. We can't be sure that she wouldn't want to live like we do…"
His voice began to fade as the fire raged on, charring every inch of her. The pounding, frantic rhythm of her heart drowned out every other noise in the room. She gasped again as it throbbed through her arms and legs, her fingers and toes.
She was vaguely aware of the movement around her until she felt the lightest, feather-like touch on her face. The ice cold, velvety feeling swept down her cheekbone and then settled across her forehead. It was followed by the sweetest relief of cold water as it ran down her face and neck, only to be patted dry by the same soft touch.
As the burning continued to sear through her body, the only thing that drew her mind away was the quiet yet melodic humming of the person who owned the hands that were wiping her body clean.
"You're soothing her," the young male voice said again.
"Good. I…I just didn't want her to wake up with...all that covering her. She shouldn't see herself like that for the first time. She was always such a beautiful girl," the female voice replied. Rosalie exhaled choppily, trying to focus on the calming tones of the woman's velvety voice.
The cool water she was rinsing her with felt like heaven in comparison to the flames that licked the insides of her veins and muscles. She fought to hold on…surely this couldn't last much longer?
"Edward, you can go," she said softly as another body entered the room. It was footsteps, heavier but light all the same.
"I just want to check on her…it shouldn't be much longer now," the first male voice replied, coming closer to the table where she lay.
There was silence in the room as the three people watched and waited. Rosalie resented that they had done this to her, this cruel, torturous experiment. And now they just watched as she suffered.
"She's already mad. We're going to have hell to deal with when it's over," the younger male said.
"Is she conscious?"
"Barely. She's already fuming with us. I still cannot believe…Rosalie Hale?" he muttered incredulously.
She could feel a small gust of wind as Carlisle shook his head furiously to stop him from talking.
What does he mean? 'Rosalie Hale'? Of course, that's my name! Who does that haughty Cullen kid think he is? I've never been so insulted…no one has ever said my name like that…he sounded…disgusted… her mind raced and fought to stay with it, but the mind-numbing pain was making it hard to focus or form coherent thoughts.
"She is a complete twit Carlisle! Up to no good!" she heard Edward huff.
"Edward, you don't know that for sure," Carlisle said softly.
"She may just appear that way to those who don't know her very well," the woman's voice echoed him.
"Rosalie Hale is the most shallow little ninny I've ever laid eyes on…The classes I had with her were insufferable. All the other students ever talked about was her hair or her clothes!" Edward added gruffly.
Rosalie could hear the woman sigh in frustration.
"Edward, you must calm yourself. We will need all the help we can get while she is new at all of this. You cannot continue to insult her," the woman said.
"She's right, Edward," Carlisle added. "You cannot judge a book by its cover son, you know that as well as I do. There might be more to this girl than you…" he trailed off and he could hear a vicious grunt of anger coming from Edward.
"You have got to be joking Carlisle!" he hollered. "The two of us together? I'd rather starve!"
"Edward…"
"You don't know what she'll be like as one of us," the woman interjected. "You cannot know what the personality of….what she'll be like. She could be different."
"If he plans to put the two of us together like some sick little matchmaker…I swear I'll leave for good this time," he threatened. The woman sucked in a breath and she could hear the young doctor sigh in frustration.
"Edward…it was just a shot in the dark. I had to try to help her…I couldn't leave her to just die there."
"I wish you'd let me handle Royce and his gang…You know this town will never make them take the rap for this!" Edward shouted. "It's disgusting….it's the least you can do!"
"We can't play God. I won't. You know my views on this subject."
"You think a smooth cat like Royce King will be linked to this? To her? Dream on, Carlisle. He'll get away with it."
Rosalie seethed in her burning body as the three people discussed her fiancé and his gang of hooligans. She wasn't' sure what displeased her more: the pain shooting through her body or the way Edward had spoken so dismissively about her.
"How is she doing, son?" Carlisle asked, setting his cool hand on her forehead.
She heard Edward grunt in distaste at the question. "She's already got her fists swinging, that's for sure," Edward mumbled.
Had Rosalie been able to move, she would have taken this opportunity to slap him promptly across the face and flounce from the room.
Edward snorted as he listened to the vindictive flavor of her thoughts. "Same here, doll," he said, leaning forward to speak in her ear.
Rosalie continued to listen to the three of them discuss her. Edward was clearly not her biggest fan. Not that she cared much; they had shared several classes together in school, but he had never shown an interest in him, therefore she had none for him. She preferred to be chased by the boys that she walked the halls with, or pranced, rather. It was unheard of for Rosalie Hale to even pretend to notice another boy unless he came to call on her properly first. Of course, he had to be the right boy for that to happen.
Edward had never paid her any attention when he first arrived in Rochester. It never particularly bothered her though, because he didn't really pay much attention to anyone, male or female. He mostly kept to himself and his books. They had gone to school together for several years now and had never bothered to converse with each other. She had seen the family out on occasion. They frequented the same high end department stores and community functions; Carlisle and his wife…what was her name? Enid? Esther? Her mind struggled to remember.
"Esme," Edward sneered in her ear, huffing in disbelief.
"What?" the woman's voice asked clearly confused. "What is she saying?"
She felt the floorboards creak as Edward began to pace in the room. "She's trying to think of what your name was. She's starting to remember seeing us around town as a family…I had several classes with her," he added, his voice softer.
"Edward…please try to be kind to her when this is all over. It's all very new and scary," the woman, Esme, said quietly, her voice just above a whisper.
Rosalie listened to the some more as they discussed several things she didn't understand about newborns and hunting. She floated in and out as her mind fought and struggled against the burning sensation that wracked her entire body. Her desire to die had grown vigorously, yet even the mind-reading boy would not comply. Her frustration and irritation grew along with her anger, pain, and fury as she lay on the table, burning.
Through the flames, she was dimly aware of Edward and Carlisle as they came and went as the hours passed. The woman, the doctor's wife, Esme, was the only one who sat with her the entire time, leaving only once with a strange excuse to Rosalie's ears.
"You must go, dear," the young doctor gently chided her on the dawn of the third day.
Rosalie could feel the air move around her as Esme's cool palms stroked her burning face. "I can't leave her...what if she is afraid? I don't want her to feel alone…"
"Esme, Edward has already scouted something out for you. You need to leave before it gets light out. It will still be a few hours; you won't miss anything, I promise," Carlisle said softly as Esme stood to leave.
"But-"
"Esme, you need to hunt."
"Yes, I do. I wouldn't want her to see me with black eyes and dark circles under them for the first time!" Esme laughed, leaving the room.
Hunt? Why on earth would the doctor's wife need to hunt? Where is she going? Why does she need to be back before it gets light out? Rosalie wondered.
She didn't have a lot of time to think after that. The pain roaring through her veins was being sucked out of her limbs slowly only to multiply and fester in her chest. It seared through every artery and capillary, leaving nothing pure or undamaged. Every vein in her chest boiled and flickered with a white-hot pain that made her entire body eventually start to rise and fall off the table in time with her racing heart.
"My…heart-t….explode-e…" she gasped, her eyes opening slightly, only to roll back into her head as the pain seemed to take off even more.
Carlisle laid a cool palm on her chest, hoping to help cool her, but the added pressure only made her heart sizzle with heat and inferno.
Hours passed.
The blaze continued to shoot higher and higher into her chest until her screams began. She listened to herself howl, cry, and beg for it to be over. It was almost like she was trapped in a metal box full of flames and ash, just waiting to melt into oblivion. How much more could she take? She felt like she was surely going mad, but there was nowhere to go that wasn't engulfed in the flames that surrounded her. Her eyelids could only see red and orange combustion; her ears could hear the crackling of fires; her hands felt singed like cinders. There was no escape as she screamed and begged for death to find her.
"Ki-ll…me-e.." she panted, opening her eyes slightly. She could see the heart-shaped face of the doctor's wife as she jumped back slightly in surprise.
"You've forgotten what the eyes look like, haven't you?" Edward asked slyly. She saw Esme nod, and the woman met her eyes once again with a look of wonder and horror.
Rosalie's body slammed down onto the table as another wave of fire attacked her heart, crashing against it as it burned. It seemed to swallow her whole as her hysterical screams and throbbing heart continued.
Again her body hit the steel table, and she could feel dents in the surface where her body hit against it violently. She grunted and bawled, screaming for death in her mind to the mind-reading boy, but he did nothing but stare at her as she writhed on the table.
"Almost, sweetheart…we're right here," Esme whispered, her surprisingly strong arms holding her against the table to keep her from falling.
Rosalie let another scream leave her lips as the roaring pain continued to crash against her heart. It beat wildly, threatening to jump out of her chest. Faster and faster it jumped, pummeling until suddenly….it beat no more.
There was silence in the room.
Rosalie opened her eyes.
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Her irritation had only fueled in the few hours she had been awake. When she had finally risen from the operating table with a high-pitched hiss, Esme had jumped to stand behind Carlisle's tall frame, and Edward had remained leaning against a china cabinet in the corner, his arms crossed arrogantly.
However, his mind-reading gift almost did not save him from the chair that Rosalie had hurled at him seconds later when her eyes fell upon him, recognizing him immediately. The chair had flown through the air with the speed of a bullet, connecting with the antique china cabinet with a loud crash, just barely grazing Edward's side. She had clamped her hand over her mouth when she saw how the wood splintered and shattered around his frame, not even piercing his granite skin. He had smirked at her triumphantly before dashing to the other side of the room. When a growl escaped her lips, she thoroughly realized that something was amiss.
Carlisle and Esme had explained what she was to her in soft tones and gentle voices, her eyes growing wider and wider with each word uttered. She barely had time to be thankful that the burning in her limbs had ceased before she had been stricken with the horrid news of what she had been turned into.
"Why?" she choked, looking up at the doctor from her knees. "Why didn't you just leave me there to die? Instead you bring me here where you all hate me and mock my very presence?"
Carlisle had a look of pain in his eyes, and it was mirrored more so in Esme's own golden orbs. The calm woman had tried to reason with her and explain why everything was so foreign and strange, but Rosalie could only focus on one thing, which was what she had become: a vampire.
Carlisle moved to stand in front of his petite wife, a gesture that Rosalie's instincts clearly recognized as protective behavior.
He's protecting her from…from..me! He thinks I'm going to hurt his kind wife! She was the one who..who helped me while I burned…I am a monster. I'm a horrible, dangerous, disgusting monster! I must look awful. No longer am I Rosalie Hale…I've been turned into a demon.
"I…I can't believe you thought I would rather be a monster than be dead!" she had shrieked, earning a snicker from the corner where Edward stood.
"Leave it to her to think she looks like a monster instead of a model," he jeered at her with a smirk.
Another growl that escaped her mouth shocked her, but not enough to stop her from hurling the first thing her fists could find at his head. He had caught the wrought iron Tiffany lamp before it crashed into the wall, nearly cackling with delight at the rise he was getting from her.
"I hate you," she spat, glowering at him. "You barely know me and already you hate me!"
Edward's face grew serious and he turned to face her. "I do not need to talk to you to already know what you are like. I have listened to your petty thoughts and selfish manner for years now," he replied, tapping his temple.
It was then that Rosalie thought back to what Edward had told her while she burned; he could hear her thoughts. Rosalie was instantly horrified at the idea.
She shrieked shrilly in sheer agitation and bolted from the room, her new speed only fueling her anger about what she had become. Throwing open the door, she realized that they lived in a large, modern house that sat on the outskirts of town, and she had no idea where she was. An onslaught of scents and a new, enhanced vision hit her suddenly, and she paused for a moment in surprise before stepping out onto the porch.
No…this can't be true. I WILL NOT be a horrible, heartless demon. I refuse. That is not who I am! Her thoughts took a determined and slightly desperate tone as she fought her instincts to go back into the house and clasp her hands around the boy's snarky throat.
I just need to get out of here…I need to get away.
Edward appeared behind her, his ochre eyes gleaming. "Rosalie, don't be rash….You can't leave the house – you very well might hurt someone," he warned her.
"What on earth would I hurt someone? I'm not a monster like you!" she growled, her voice determined.
He stepped closer to her, his eyes narrowing. "You go to town now, and I can tell you that you will drain and murder at least ten people before you even begin to realize what you're doing. Do you still want to go now?"
Clamping hand over her mouth, she tried to imagine acting as the vampires in the movie pictures did. Biting at the throats of the innocents, infecting them with hellish spirits and demons, draining them of their life. She glared at him evilly, all of the hate she had harbored for him during her change boiling to the surface.
But what if what he says is true? I can't go into Rochester, Rosalie Hale…and kill people. What if he's right?"
"It is true, I am right," Edward echoed her thoughts.
Her shoulders sunk for a moment as she realized she didn't really want to hurt anyone with her newfound strength and anger. Instead, she glanced at him again, hoping that her speed would be able to put her one step ahead of his gift.
I hate him, I hate this house, I hate this…I hate..I hate…everything. I'll show them…
She was so consumed with rage and complete abandonment for behaving normally that she was surprised when her vision didn't blur and her hands didn't shake. Carlisle and Esme stood in the doorway, watching with wide eyes as Rosalie moved towards them.
"She won't hurt you," She heard Edward softly say to them. The two people standing in front of her looked horrified at her behavior, but nothing was going to phase her now.
She didn't care.
Well, you're right about one thing. I will not hurt people. But that leaves a lot of room for destruction, she thought.
Racing back into the house with a hiss, she discovered that her mind instantly worked with her newer, more sensitive nose to take her where she wanted to go; her feet moved faster, her mind moved faster, and everything was easier.
She didn't care.
Rosalie quickly found the room where she had been turned: Carlisle's office. With a grunt, she quickly grabbed the wooden table with the dented metal surface on top of it, and heaved it through the large glass windows that lined the back of the room. The glass shattered as the wood hit it, shards flying everywhere.
She didn't care.
Nothing mattered now but succeeding in showing the family how disgusted she was. If she was going to be a monster, then she was going to act like one.
She clawed one of the oil lamps that was attached to the wall, ripping it clean off. Spying a lighter on the doctor's desk, she snatched that as well while the other three vampires watched her with shock on their faces.
Edward held out his hand in front of Carlisle and Esme, his voice quiet. "Let her," he murmured, and the three watched as she sailed through the jagged edges of what was left of the window, landing with a soft thud outside in the side yard where the remains of Carlisle's home operating table sat in several pieces. Her ruby eyes glittered as she doused the chunks of serrated wood with oil from the lamp, pausing only to click on the lighter.
The pile of wood roared to life, the fire lighting up as the oil reacted with that one small flame. The three bewildered family members stood on the inside, looking at her incredulously through the broken window as she watched the fire burn.
Watching the flames only fueled the fury she felt. Looking to her side, she spied the forest line, her eyes falling on one thing: freedom.
With a grunt and a puff of dust, she began to run. Nothing mattered as she moved her legs faster and faster until they were churning beneath her. She flew through the forest, so infuriated she could barely recognize her new, amazing velocity.
The trees flew by as she moved lithely though the forest, the morning mists still rising in puffs from the ground where she ran.
Her thoughts about Edward's cruel words towards her echoed in her perfect mind, which could recall every word uttered during the burning change she had just endured.
How could he be so malicious? He didn't even know her. Not that it mattered – nothing mattered now, frankly.
She ran up to a rock face that overlooked a huge body of water, and her eyes stretched to see for miles. She slowed her pace eventually, realizing that she could hear the soft patter of footsteps behind her. She could recognize the scent of the young doctor, and she turned toward the water to pout.
"Rosalie?" he asked, gliding to a halt behind her. He cautiously walked up behind her, stopping to stand beside her at the edge of the cliff.
They were silent for a moment as she fumed internally. "Can you read my mind too?" she finally huffed, turning to look at him. She gasped suddenly, shocked at how much clearer she could see his handsome face. He smiled bashfully at her, his golden eyes darting back to look at the water.
"No, that's just Edward, I'm afraid," he admitted.
She felt like a fool, throwing a fit and letting her temper get the best of her. "I'm sorry about your table," she said slowly.
The young doctor looked at her sheepishly, shrugging. "It's no matter…I understand."
She nodded, lowering her eyes in shame. She had always had a bit of a temper, but her mother had taught her early on that a real lady should never let it show.
"Rosalie…I must apologize. I never meant to upset you by changing you into..." he trailed off, looking at her apologetically.
"A vampire," she finished haughtily. She ran her tongue over her new, sharp teeth, checking for fangs.
At least I don't have daggers sticking out of my gums…she thought with a smirk.
"I do not wish for you to be unhappy, Rosalie. I wanted to give you a chance…a second chance at life. When I found you….I couldn't bear to not help you."
Rosalie looked at him, blinking her large eyes at the soft-spoken doctor. "Did you ever think that I would rather die than become a demon?" she asked. "Did you stop to think that I would rather die than live with people who don't even want me?"
He shook his head, looking ruefully at the ground. "No, I did not. I did not mean to insult you, either. Please don't take Edward seriously…he is still struggling with this life as well, I'm afraid."
Rosalie felt bad for emotionally jabbing the kind doctor, but her fury prevented her from apologizing. She looked back out at the water.
"Where are we?"
"You ran all the way to Lake Ontario," he said. "You are very fast."
"I noticed," she said shortly, her eyes falling to her feet. She gasped in surprise when she realized she wasn't wearing any shoes, and her skirt was tattered and stained with dried blood. Her silk blouse was hanging off her slim body in pieces, her undergarments peeking through the thin material.
Figures, she thought bitterly.
He was silent for a moment until he saw her hand go to her throat. "Of course," he began. "I apologize again, you must be thirsty. Come," he said. She had looked at him, her eyes full of bewilderment, but once she acknowledged the burn in her throat she had no choice.
The dull pain that lingered there had been the least of her worries when she had first woken up, but now it had moved to the forefront of her sharp mind. The idea of hunting had been a horrid one when first presented to her; never had such an unladylike and crude task been presented to her. She had scoffed at the idea when Carlisle explained their diet to her.
She had followed him regardless into the woods, perching herself easily in a tree with the doctor while they waited.
"You'll know what to do…just wait," he had said to her quietly. She nodded, suddenly very interested in putting out the fire that was now burning in her throat as she sat in the fir tree. Looking out from the branches, she turned up her nose at the dismal, cloudy New York day. The fog and clouds rolling south off of Lake Ontario usually provided the town of Rochester with a similar type of weather. Most days she couldn't be bothered with the weather; today, she hated it.
She had been busy scoffing at the weather and the dismal atmosphere until a tantalizing scent crossed her nose. Jumping down, she had effortlessly tackled the bobcat, startling herself when she pushed the drained carcass away from her with a flourish. She tossed her blonde hair behind her shoulder, sickened at the blood she had to wipe from her hands.
x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x
"You did very well back there," Carlisle offered her a weak compliment.
Rosalie pressed her lips together, still amused with the taste of the blood on her tongue.
"Thanks…I suppose."
"Hunting didn't come very easily to Esme…I'm afraid she was a bit put off by it at first."
Rosalie turned to look at him as she walked. "I didn't say I liked it," she snapped.
She walked faster then, lengthening the distance between them.
Carlisle was silent for a moment, then tried his best to converse with her again.
"Rosalie, I hope you know that we want you to stay with us. I…I saw that your life was over and I couldn't bear to see you die that way."
"And now I'll never die at all."
"No…but that doesn't have to be a negative thing, Rosalie."
"According to you."
"Rosalie…"
"What if it was my time? What if I wanted to die?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth she felt guilty.
"I wish I could help you, Rosalie. I hate to see you so sad and know that it was my doing that made you this way. Will you ever forgive me?" Carlisle finally asked as they walked back towards the house.
He was nearly sickened himself by her silence as they walked through the woods. She thought for a few moments before turning to look at the handsome doctor in the pale morning light of the forest. Her anger seemed to seethe to the surface and she couldn't help herself. If she was suffering, then they would too.
"You should have seen me lying on the ground about to die and finished the job," she sneered, turning around. She began to easily follow her own scent back towards the house.
x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x
Eventually, Carlisle had coaxed her back to the house where Esme led her upstairs to the guest room of their large home.
"This room is mine?" Rosalie breathed, taking in the large, spacious room that Esme had taken her to.
It stretched along the front of the upstairs, with large windows and a balcony that hung over the front porch. The morning light shone through, casting a pretty glow on the deep red walls. The wooden floors were decorated with several tasteful Oriental rugs that complimented the soft beige bed linens. The windows were thrown open, making the matching cream colored curtains flutter in the breeze. Their lacy tips softly brushed the mahogany floors. A cherry dresser set sat to one side, and on the other side of the room there was a matching vanity.
"It's so lovely," she said, looking around her plush surroundings.
"I'm so happy to know that, dear," Esme said, touching Rosalie's arm softly. She jumped in surprise, her eyes flying around the room in a startled manner. Esme pulled her hand away quickly with a gasp, jumping back to give the newborn vampire some space.
"I'm okay," Rosalie assured her. The whole vampire thing is going to take some getting used to.
Her eyes darted around the room, suddenly freezing when she saw a foreign looking figure standing in the mirror.
"What's the matter?" Esme asked suddenly, darting over to stand next to her as she stared. Rosalie reached up, touching her own face as if to make sure that what she saw in the mirror was really her.
It was her, and she was…
She was stunning.
She raced over to the vanity, gripping the sides of the large oval mirror as she gaped, unblinking, at the creature that had replaced her.
"Gentle, Rose," Esme reminded her, patting her hands. Rosalie smiled, faintly, loosening her grip and giving her a small smile. She sat down on the stool and returned her enamored gaze to examine herself further.
"I look so…different," she mumbled, running a hand over her new face.
"It's what the venom does," Esme said softly, glancing at her own reflection in the large mirror. "It's to make us…more attractive, I suppose…to lure humans to us," she said.
Rosalie looked up at her in shock, but nodded once she understood. As a human, she could recall being strangely drawn to the beautiful family when she saw them out around town. And now, she would match them.
Her long, blonde hair had grown several inches and thickened considerably, the tones of blonde now more dimensional and shiny. Tiny, lighter blonde wisps framed her perfectly chiseled faced, as if to frame it like a trophy. The creamy tone of her now flawless skin was set off beautifully by a pair of lovely, luscious red lips that were even shapelier than she remembered. Her pretty new face was highlighted by slightly higher cheek bones, a charming yet tiny cleft in her chin, and a slightly smaller nose. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows were set on her face in ideal proportion to her long eyelashes and….her eyes.
"How long?" she asked, looking at Esme in the mirror. Esme's face softened. "A few months, then they will turn golden, like mine," she replied.
Rosalie nodded. She didn't mind the eyes as much as she should; for once, she wanted to be feared a little in her new state. She had never been one to turn away from any position or opportunity to gain power. As she gazed at herself, a few cloudy memories started to slowly creep back into her mind.
Walking home from her friend's house in the chilly night air…Drunk Royce and his friends finding her…raping her…beating her….burning her with their cigars as she screamed and begged for her life…
"Is everything alright dear?" Esme asked, resting a delicate hand on her shoulder.
Rosalie looked at her for a moment, a plan coming together in her mind. She smiled innocently at the young woman, charming her with her dazzling new smile. "Of course," she answered, letting her gaze return to the girl in the mirror.
"Everything is just fine."
To her relief, Esme had informed her that Edward had gone to his college classes for the afternoon. The two had spent most of the afternoon on Rosalie's new bed, Esme answering her questions about their lifestyle and family. She was shocked that they had all lead day to day lives with no suspicions from others.
"Edward goes out in town a lot, and he likes to listen for signs of any brewing trouble," Esme said.
"He really goes to college?" she asked in amazement.
Esme nodded, smiling as Carlisle entered the living room with them. "Yes, Edward has managed to control his thirst enough that he is able to live quite normally," Carlisle said, walking up to the two of them.
"Normally?" she asked quizzically, her eyes moving between the two striking vampires between her. Esme's pale, heart shaped face was framed by a waterfall of large, caramel colored curls. Her golden eyes were quite strange at first glance, but the glittering smile she often offered with them made them appear more natural. Carlisle stood tall and lean, his own ivory face complimented by golden hair and matching eyes, set into his perfectly chiseled face.
I plan to live quite 'normally' once I get this all sorted out. I will have my big New York house and maybe even go to college like Edward…this is only a temporary setback...just wait until mother learns I'm alive! Rosalie thought, admiring the grand living room that Esme had tastefully decorated.
Edward's voice cut through her thoughts as he walked back into the house after returning from classes.
"You won't be able to tell your mother, I'm afraid," he muttered, setting his books down on the hallway table. He shuffled into the room where they stood, dipping his head slightly.
Rosalie turned to look at him, frowning. "I'm sorry?" she asked, viciousness seeping into her voice. "What was that you said?"
"You won't be able to tell your mother. You won't be able to go back to her, Rosalie," he said again. Rosalie looked at him, her ruby eyes full of horror. She whipped her head around to stare at Carlisle.
"I can't go home? I can't ever see my family again?" she shrieked.
Carlisle looked at her sadly, his gold eyes full of remorse. "Yes, Rosalie, I'm afraid he's right. You can't go home – they would know something is different. They would also be too…Tempting… right now," he finished, his eyes falling to the floor.
"Tempting?" she said, her voice quivering with rage. "Tempting? You think I would eat my own parents?!" she yelled, her fists balling up. She was bombarded with blurry but memorable visions of her friend and her husband and child, all waving goodbye to her as she left on that fateful night.
"You won't be able to be around humans for awhile…and you especially couldn't marry one," he added quietly, seeing her thoughts full of envy for her friend that was a new mother and her loving husband.
"You stay out of my head!" she screeched. She shook with anger as she turned towards the door.
"I refuse to live here in this house, trapped like an animal," she seethed, throwing the door open. It fell from its hinges several moments later, collapsing to the ground with a crash. Esme winced as the glass window in it shattered, sending shards scattering across the floor.
She turned on the porch to look at the three of them, who were once again in awe of her temper. "I will not live here in the sticks and let my life slip away! I've worked too hard to get where I am today and I won't be giving it up!" She stomped off the porch, running down the steps and into the afternoon sunlight.
"I am Rosalie Hale and I –"she stopped short with a horrified gasp that came out more like another shriek. Doubling over, she grabbed her own hand with her other and stared at it in horror, disgust filling her.
Rainbows bounced off of her faceted skin - against the shiny car parked in the driveway and the many windows of the house. She glowed and shimmered like a diamond.
"I…I…oh my…" she fell to her knees, still grasping her hand tightly as she grew more and more repulsed by herself. She curled onto the gravel driveway, sobbing tearlessly as the three vampires watched her with somber, frozen faces.
Glancing at the side of Carlisle's shiny black car, she erupted in a new bout of loud screeches and sobs as she caught another glimpse of herself in the metallic parts.
"I'm…I'm…a monster," she gasped, throwing her hands down in the dirt. Grasping the pebbles, she crushed them to sand in her stony hands as she cried.
Now she realized it, truly. She had become a horrible, frightening monster that could never, ever lead the life she had always dreamed of. Her dreams had been hopelessly shattered with one little bite.
x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x
Several days had passed, and she had slipped further and further into her depression until suddenly an idea came to her. If she couldn't live the way she wanted, then there were five other people on the earth that shouldn't be able to either.
Her captors had been on the brim of her thoughts ever since she was turned, but she tried to suppress them. Now, however, her mind sizzled with anger and fury as images of Royce and his friends bubbled to the surface, making her fists rake across the bedspread of which she rested upon. A low growl resonated in her throat, the rumbling startling her as she formulated her plan.
If she couldn't have the world, then certainly he couldn't either. It would be a crime to let him walk free. In her mind, she saw him giving the same fate to another girl, somewhere else, someone just as helpless as her. No, that simply would not do.
She began to plot as she walked out of her bedroom and down the steps. Peering out the front window towards town, she made up her mind.
x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x
The late fall weeks had turned into winter, and soon Rosalie was watching Esme balance on the top ledge of a ladder as she hung winter greenery from the tall banisters.
"Is this even, dear?" She called over her shoulder. Rosalie glanced up from her French book and let her crimson eyes measure the angles of the hanging boughs of decoration.
"Yes, that's perfect," Rosalie answered, rolling her ruby eyes as Esme turned back around. Edward glared at her from his position at the living room piano, the familiar chords of Beethoven floating through the parlor where the three of them sat, trying to pass the day by. Rosalie had learned quickly that sunny days were now regarded as a nuisance in the vampire world.
Carlisle had been trapped at work all morning due to the sunlight, not able to leave and walk the streets home until evening. He had worked late during his usual night shift only to find the sun peeking out of the clouds when he was ready to leave. Esme had to put her shopping trip for new clothes for Rosalie on hold as well due to the sun. Edward was also stuck inside and unable to go to his university classes, so he had been moping around all morning trying to occupy his time.
Basically, they were all inconvenienced by this cold, albeit sunny, afternoon.
He didn't' even stop playing to glower at her. "I am not moping," he growled, his granite fingers dancing over the keys.
"I've never seen you not mope," she growled back, her delicate fingers turning the page of her book. She had been determined to keep up with her studies as the weeks slowly went by, and was slightly happy that her new mind made it shockingly easy for her to do so.
Carlisle had gently explained to her that once her first year was over, they would move to a new town where she would not be recognized and she would be able to finish high school and even attend college if she wished. That had been one of the few things that had helped her though these last lonely, long months.
Her severe stubbornness had not left her in this new life. She had used her iron will and pride to perfect the art of hunting animals and draining them neatly, never so much as coming close to murdering any humans. Several times she had been exposed to their tantalizing scent: one, a stray hiker too close to the house, another, the mailman delivering a parcel that Esme had forgotten to pick up at the post office. On both occasions, Rosalie had allowed herself to be firmly held down by Edward and Carlisle, her breath held tight in her lungs and her brain flailing wildly to regain control of herself.
To say that she was bound and determined to return to as much of a normal life as she could was an understatement. She longed to go to school again…to shop…to parade around town in fancy dresses, catching the eyes of the boys…
They wouldn't even stand a chance against me now! I can hardly believe how wonderful the venom change made me look…if only they could bottle that stuff up…she thought to herself with a playful smirk.
Edward rolled his golden eyes at her from his piano, his fingers plunking down on the keys even harder as he grew more and more irritated with her thoughts.
She shook her head and chided him mentally. If you don't like it, then what in the dickens are you doing in my head?
He looked at her sideways from the piano, his lip rising in a sneer. "I've tried. Believe me, Rose, I've tried," he said.
"Edward," Esme warned him, returning to the room with another armful of Christmassy pine boughs.
"Sorry, Mom," he said softly, turning back to his music. He switched to another piece as they both watched Esme effortlessly scale the ladder and continue her holiday work.
Rosalie's mind traveled back in time to her blurry human memories of the Christmas season at her lovely house. Her mother would spend the days hanging wreaths, trimming the large pine tree in the front room, and decorating the entire home floor to ceiling in Christmas ornaments and trinkets.
Rosalie smiled as she remembered their tastefully decorated tree, shining in the front window with store bought ornaments and garlands. Their cook would bake sugar cookies and gingerbread men for her younger brothers, and on Christmas day they would all exchange extravagant gifts. A new tennis bracelet for her mother, an imported Spanish pipe for her father, a new fur muff for Rosalie, new bicycles for her brothers…there was no limit for the Hale family, especially on Christmas.
She sighed heavily, turning the unread page as she stared as the useless fire in the fireplace. The only reason they kept the house heated was to keep the water and gas pipes from freezing and bursting in the cold.
The flames danced and crackled in the brick fireplace, the wood re-adjusting as it burned away. She winced slightly, thinking of heat that had burned her not long ago as she was changed. Rosalie watched as Esme began to add red velvet ribbons to the places where the boughs of pine were gathered, carefully arranging them just so.
I won't see my family for Christmas this year…or ever again for that matter. No more holidays at the Hale household. Do they miss me? Are they still celebrating the holidays with a dead daughter on their minds? Surely not….
She drifted in and out of her thoughts, wincing as she remembered a few more blurry memories from holidays past. She would never get to see another lovely Christmas in her large, lavish home. No, never again, thanks to Royce and his gang. Her blood boiled and her eyes narrowed as she thought of his name. It was burned into her mind, singed into the tissue against her will.
I hate him…that vile…evil…rotten man. He doesn't deserve to live….she thought. She straightened up and continued to stare at the fire in the hearth as her plan came to the front of her mind.
No, he certainly would not live to see another Holiday, especially not if she couldn't as well. He would not live to see much more, period. She had bided her time and waited until she was sure her memory was in the back of his mind, waiting to pounce and spring forward to bring him death….
The piano music stopped abruptly.
Rosalie's eyes flew up in horror to meet Edward's. He looked at her incredulously, frozen with his hands above the ivory keys. She panicked. He had heard her plans; he knew what she was going to do.
"Edward?" Esme called, looking down from her perch on the ladder. "Edward, what is it?" she asked.
Edward coughed suddenly, laying his hands on the keys quickly. "Nothing, Esme. Rosalie won't shut up in her mind about how thirsty she is, that's all."
Esme looked at Rosalie, giving her a faint smile. "You two should go hunting, then. Just stay away from any people and you'll be fine dear," Esme said with a smile.
Rosalie and Edward needed no more encouragement. They both jumped up, bolting from the yard. Rosalie ran for several miles until she was out of Esme's earshot and glided to a halt. Edward stopped a few feet from her, his face considerably calmer.
I'm not going to drain them, Edward. So before you get all worked up in a hussy, don't worry about it. This is my revenge and my plan and I won't let you stop me from killing that monster and his gang of –
"Of course I won't stop you," Edward replied, running a hand through his penny-colored hair with a smirk. He kicked a rock with his toe, sending it flying through the air and out of sight. Rosalie gave him a relieved but confused glance.
She looked at him inquisitively, turning her head. "Why would you say that? You hate me. I would think you would jump at any chance to tarnish me in Carlisle's eyes. "
I'll probably go to hell for doing this…but I can't let them live, Edward, she added in her head. He looked her, his expression softening.
"We live forever, Rose," he said finally. "You won't be going to hell. We're already dammed. Besides…I fought the urge to kill them all myself when Carlisle brought you here."
"You did?" she asked, clearly surprised. He nodded, his locks swaying slightly on his head. He looked out at the forest thoughtfully, pausing before he spoke.
"I did. I never told you this but…I spent some time away from Esme and Carlisle, shortly after they were married. You see…having a gift like mine…well…it's hard to let some people live sometimes. I see the vile, evil thoughts they have, the plans they make, and the people they intend to hurt. So I left Carlisle, knowing he would never approve. I couldn't live with the weight of knowing all of that and not doing a damn thing about. So I left…and….sadly, I played God for awhile, deciding for those who crossed my path. I killed many bad people, Rosalie," he finished, looking back at her.
She stared back at him with her crimson eyes. "But…then why did you come back?"
Edward shrugged nonchalantly, looking back outside at the setting sun. "I decided that I believed what Carlisle did – that it wasn't my place. These people were humans, and we both believe that they will all be judged by God when they leave this earth. I wanted to leave it to Him to decide."
Rosalie let a small growl of frustration slip. He whipped his head around to look at her where she stood, her lip turned upward into a snarl.
"What's the meaning of telling me this, Edward?" she sneered.
He looked at her for a long moment, and then turned to face her. "I'm saying that if you want to do what you plan to do, I won't protest. I won't judge you. But know this: You have to live with their blood, so to speak, on your hands for the rest of eternity. You can always come back and live like we do, but that blood will never fully disappear from your mind – ever. Those are deaths that will be because of you, and no one else. If you can live with that, then…" he trailed off, turning back around.
Rosalie relaxed slightly, her shoulders hunching over as she retreated into deep thought.
"They will be five faces that will haunt you forever," he added softly.
"I can look in my mind's eye and see the face of every human I've ever killed and it's…it's….it can be paralyzing."
She growled, tossing her blonde hair behind her shoulder. "Five faces? Five faces?" she asked him incredulously. He stared at her blankly as she huffed. "If I could get their faces printed up on five diamond rings," she sneered. "I would gladly wear them on my fingers every day for the rest of time just so that I could look at them and know that I was the one who twisted their miserable necks shut," she finished with a growl.
Edward lowered his head, and said nothing else. They ran back to the house that evening, and as promised, Edward didn't say a word.
x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x
She stole out of the house, careful to be as quiet as could be, which wasn't so difficult with her new vampiric gracefulness.
Edward was playing his piano, Esme was taking a bath, and Carlisle was at work. She jumped from her window, landing soundlessly on the ground below before darting towards town.
Rosalie held her breath tightly in her chest, slowly allowing herself to breathe as she entered the dark streets of Rochester. The aroma of humans permeated the air, burning her throat as she stood on the dark street corner. But that didn't matter now.
Nothing would stop her from carrying out with her plan.
Glancing down at the cobblestones, she winced when she saw that she had found the correct lamppost, the right corner. Traces of her own human blood still stained pieces of the street; she was sure her vampire eyes were the only eyes able to see it. She fell to her knees, her sensitive fingers tracing the hard stones where she had laid that night, wishing for death.
She closed her eyes, begging for the tears to come as she realized something: she was still wishing for her death. Stooping down, she pressed her nose to the pavement, much like she had that night when Carlisle had found her sobbing, beaten, and bloody.
Wincing at the scent of her dried blood wedged between the stones, she picked up something else. Five other scents.
x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x
Four weeks later, she hit the ground outside the Cullen house and took off to Rochester once again. Four weeks had passed, and four murders were now on her hands. Only one more remained.
Royce knew she was coming for him. Her plan was almost complete.
She had memorized their scents that first night, hunting them each down in order of their offenses against her. The men who had merely beaten her and burned her with their cigars had died first, then the men who had raped her and pulled out chunks of her hair while smacking her with their large, ring-clad hands.
Royce, however, was being saved for last.
Tonight was the night.
But first, she had one last stop to make before visiting her ex-fiancé for the last time. She effortlessly slid the lock out of place, walking in the door. The delightful bell on the door chimed to only her in the dark, empty store. She walked soundlessly through, thumbing the lacy white garments as she stalked through the bridal store.
This one? No…too much beige mixed in with the white….she thought while sorting through the racks. Rosalie growled to herself as she felt the sting of tears that would never fall behind her eyes.
This one is pretty, but I want something big and grand…like my real dress would have been…
She continued to walk around the dark bridal shop, looking at the wedding dresses much like she had done before she had been attacked. She could feel the familiar rage and anger beginning to boil low in her gut; she smiled sadistically at the feeling. Over the last four weeks, she had grown to almost enjoy the sick feeling she got before she committed the murders one by one.
Each time, the feelings afterwards got better and better; it was almost like the satisfaction she got from buying a pretty new dress as a human, or hunting as a vampire. Only better.
Suddenly, she sucked in a breath. There it was. The perfect dress.
It lay on a mannequin in the front window - how she had overlooked this one, she did not know- the white lace glowing in the moonlight. And the lace was certainly white, she thought delightfully, licking her ruby lips. She had it down in a flash, and began to dress herself in it gleefully. The lace lay delicately on her pale arms as she admired the pattern, memorizing it carefully.
She would never forget this night.
Once she had the buttons all fastened, she attached a few bracelets on her dainty wrists. A white flower pinned up her blonde, perfect curls. She carefully reapplied her red lipstick before turning around to admire her full reflection in the store's full-length dressing mirrors.
She clapped happily to herself when she laid her ruby eyes on her reflection. She was a vision clad all in white, her pale skin almost matching the lacy, white gown. Her burgundy eyes sparkled in the dim light reflecting from the street, and she fluffed her hair before stepping down from platform and leaving the store as quietly as she had come.
Walking silently along the streets in her long white gown, she was sure to hold her breath all the way to the King family's large bank, where she had already selected his frantically beating heart out from a few others that were surely guarding him.
Glancing up at the tower of the tall building, she could practically smell his fear as she grinned to herself evilly. A satanic glow had inhabited her heart as her eyes rose up the side of the tall building.
"Oh! Hiding in the tower, are we Royce?" she laughed to herself.
She paused on the sidewalk, no longer caring if anyone out that night saw her. Bending down to look at her reflection in a car mirror, she flashed her dazzling smile at herself before evening out the red gloss on her lips.
"Well, it's time," she chirped to no one, her happy-go-lucky attitude almost unsettling to herself. But no, she wouldn't let that bother her as she gently grabbed the front doors to the bank, crushing the padlocks effortlessly in her palms.
She followed the sound of the gushing hearts all the way up to the top floor, ghosting her way up every level until she was at the tower of the bank. The tower had a few rooms in it, but it was mainly used for storing old, family money in the large, room-sized vaults.
Killing the two guards was easy enough – she was always careful to not spill any blood and tempt herself needlessly. With an evil giggle, she tossed the bodies to the side with a sickening thud and crushed the padlocks and deadbolts that were on the door. It swung open with a creak, and she let his scent hit her nose, causing her throat to burn.
But she wouldn't be eating tonight.
He gasped as the light from the hallway hit her frame, and she turned slightly so that he could catch the hue of her crimson eyes as they glittered with rage.
"Hello, Royce, dear. I gather you've been waiting for me," She said sweetly, turning her head coyly and exposing her teeth.
He stumbled back against the wall in fear, falling down to his knees. "What…what are you? What are you doing here? What are you-u d-doing to me?" he sobbed, covering his eyes as she stepped closer.
Her eyes widened in mock surprise, a chuckle rising in her throat. "Let me answer some of your questions, Royce, honey," she repeated, smiling to herself as his heart thumped wildly in his chest.
"I….have come back from the street where you left me to die, and guess what? I'm a lot stronger than even you now, sweets," she cooed, taking another step.
Royce pushed with his feet against the slick stones on the floor, trying to push himself further into the corner of the room. A terrified yelp slipped from his mouth, further igniting her rage and need for retribution.
"I came here to kill you. But first, I'm going to torture you, like you did me. I'm going to beat you to the brink of death, like an animal, just like you did me.…and then I'm going to make you beg for me to kill you. I'm going to make you beg for your life to be over, just like you did to me. Say good-bye, Royce."
She didn't even give him time to scream before she began. Her revenge was complete.
x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x
Well there you have it! I hope you all liked my 'Rosalie'. She was another fun portion to write, simply because she has such a flair for the dramatic in my eyes.
To explain her strange behavior at the end as she is committing the murders: My version of Rosalie had gone slightly crazy, at least as crazy as a vampire can get. I believe that she would have been driven to the point of so much rage that she wasn't thinking clearly, thus, her strange banter with herself in the bridal shop and in front of the bank. I think she would have been a little deranged at first until the murders were committed and her attackers were dead. I think she probably calmed down after that was done. When SM describes her committing the murder of Royce in a wedding dress, that tipped me off. That did not sound like behavior of someone who was mentally well balanced at the time. So, I thought up some dialog for her to have with herself beforehand to further move along my idea of her unstable-ness.
Please review, and remember to review and cast your vote for Rosalie if you would like to hear more of her story!