A/N: Summary: Rosalie wakes up.

The first thing I noticed wasn't what I saw, or heard. The first thing I noticed was that the pain was gone, blissfully gone, from everywhere but my throat. I was too relieved at the absence of agony to worry overmuch about my throat, though. It could go on hurting for all I cared. I had other things to focus on.

The second thing I noticed was that I was not alone.

Mrs Cullen, Esme, the doctor's wife, was still sitting beside me. I flicked a glance at her, catalogued her delicate beauty as I always did when I saw a young woman, then brought my attention more closely to her face. She was staring at me, concern evident in her eyes, and her brow showed a slight degree of worry. It was a shame; the creases in her forehead would stop a person from noticing her gorgeous golden eyes.

Edward Masen, the young boy, Mrs Cullen's brother, was standing across the room, watching me carefully. His face never moved; he was trying to control his reactions to me. Well, many men had tried and failed to do that in the past. I let my gaze move past him, feigning disinterest. He truly held little interest for me right now.

Dr Cullen was standing just behind his wife, but he looked like he was uneasy, for some reason. Every now and again his eyes—which were darker than those of the other two, almost black—flickered to her and then to me. His face, too, showed concern and compassion, and belatedly I realised that he and his wife were both concerned for me and afraid of me.

Well, I didn't need their concern. Their fear, though... I wasn't sure. I put that aside to deal with later.

The third thing I noticed was that I was not breathing.

"I'm dead," I stated aloud, and immediately realised that this could not be true. I had just moved my mouth, proving I had a physical form and I suddenly realised that I could feel. I could feel the air moving over my lips as I spoke, though I still had not taken a breath, and I could feel that I was lying on a hard surface, and I could feel that my throat was hurting. I cursed myself for being an idiot but before I could say anything else, Esme was speaking.

"No, you're not, dear. Carlisle saved you."

"Actually, that's debatable," Edward muttered.

That was when I made the mistake of breathing.

I was totally unprepared for the sheer searing agony in my throat. It drove out all thought, all sensation other than the pain, the thirst. I didn't know how I recognised this alien torture as thirst, but I knew I had to drink. I wasn't thinking at all as I moved for the first time, leaping off the dining room table, leaving the three startled others behind me as I pelted for the door and darted into another room. I didn't realise I had entered a disused kitchen, I didn't notice that I had crushed the flimsy wooden door in my attempt to enter, I certainly didn't register that I was moving at a speed impossible to human beings or that I was now possessed of unnatural strength. The only thing I knew was that I had to drink. And it wasn't until after it was drained dry that I realised I had just attacked, killed and drunk the blood of a deer.

I was crouching on the stone kitchen floor, clutching the carcass of a doe with clean, unblemished hands, digging my intact nails into its cooling flesh and I could taste the tang of blood on my perfect, unspoiled lips. I could see every separate hair in perfect distinction on the wretched creature's neck; I could hear the breathing of three people behind me and the cry of a night bird a mile or more from here. I was not dead and this could not be a dream. My emotions were in turmoil: horror, fear, anger, confusion, rage, terror, thirst, grief.

Grief? Yes, grief, for the life I had lost. Because ever since Royce had torn my jacket from my shaking form, I had known that the innocent, carefree life of Rosalie Lillian Hale was over. Now, it only became clearer. I whirled around to see what I already knew: the doctor and his family had followed me in. I hissed at them like a cat in the street, purely instinctively.

"Rosalie," the doctor began gently, but I cut him off violently.

"What right have you to call me that? I am Miss Hale to you."

The words were those of a person; the voice was that of an animal. My own voice, I knew, but feral, raw, on the edge of a growl. I didn't care. I sounded like a monster, then I could show them what they'd done to me, what they were. For I knew this was their fault, whatever this was, this thing that set my throat on fire and made me kill in cold blood without thinking.

Why was there even a deer in their kitchen in the first place? A large, live deer. Why?

"You knew this would happen," I concluded aloud. "What have you done to me?"

The doctor shared a glance with Edward, who nodded briefly. They were judging me, then. What right did they have?

"Miss Hale, what do you remember of what I told you while... while you were in pain?"

"Everything," I answered immediately, then drew back in horror. It was true, I remembered every second since the fire began with perfect clarity. Even those moments when I hadn't heard talking, I remembered not hearing anything. Even when my mental agonising drowned out the voices, I remembered not listening. Infeasible, surely. And yet it was true. And I remembered every word I had heard.

"You're mad," I stated. "A lunatic. It can't be true."

"I'm afraid it is," he said softly. "You are a vampire."

"N—" I started to say, but I knew it was true, really. Look at me, look at what I'd just done. "No," I said again, but it was quieter now, an expression of loss rather than of anger or denial. The way I couldn't predict my emotions was beginning to scare me. I started to register the changes in my mind, the volatility of my flitting thoughts, the maelstrom of emotion that seemed to be constantly whirling through me.

Esme started to move towards me, but then Edward spoke. "I wouldn't," he said quickly, in a low voice. Somehow I knew that I never would have heard him... before.

"Why?" I snapped at him. "You're just like me, aren't you? I'm no danger to you, am I? You could stop me—"

And suddenly I was terrified again.

"Don't touch me," I whispered, but the whisper still managed to sound fierce. "Don't, don't."

Dr Cullen turned once again to Edward, asking a silent question with his eyes. Why? What did the boy know of me?

"She's thinking of the attack," he said. His voice was cold and certain; this wasn't a guess. He was right, of course.

"How do you know that?" I demanded quickly, in a strong voice completely unlike my previous muttering. Once again, I threw myself off balance with the abrupt change to my mood. Without giving him a chance to answer, I carried on speaking. "Why can't I control what I feel? What have you done to me? This isn't me, what have you done?"

"Miss Hale, why don't we sit down in the front room and we can discuss all this," the doctor pleaded.

"No, thank you, I'm perfectly comfortable right here," I replied icily. It was true; though I remained half-crouched in a defensive pose, I could feel no strain in my muscles or joints. "Tell me everything. Start from the beginning."

They stood there, beautiful beasts, and for the first time I saw that they too were standing in a defensive formation, the doctor in front, the boy on his right shoulder and the woman on his left. They truly were scared of me. The thrill of power that came hand in hand with that realisation was both invigorating and slightly terrifying. I had never had my own power before.

"We are vampires," the doctor stated bluntly. Gently, but bluntly. "We are immortal, though we don't have a heartbeat or a need to breathe."

Reflexively, I put a hand to my chest and felt nothing but the rise and fall of my ribcage.

"Our hair doesn't grow; nor do our nails. We don't age in any way. We have perfect memories, supernatural strength and speed and enhanced senses, as I'm sure you've noticed. We can't sleep, or become ill, or digest food. We... can't bear children."

The pause was miniscule, but I wondered as to the reason for it. Was this something that was difficult for him or did he think it would be difficult for me? I also thought about his use of the first person plural, making each blow less forceful by spreading the impact. This list was rehearsed; he had done this before. For Edward? Esme?

All of this passed through my mind in less than the blink of an eye. Then I flew at him.

Before I reached him, though, Edward was there, blocking my path. I ploughed into him with all my strength, instinctively thinking that he would be stronger than me. After all, he was a man; I was only a weak, feeble woman. It was therefore to my immense surprise that I threw him off his feet, catapulting him backwards into the doctor, and we all three ended up on the floor of the entrance hall, having condemned the kitchen wall to a fate as a splintered mess.

"Can't bear children?" I screeched. "Don't age? What kind of an existence is this? What hell are you forcing me into?"

"Would you stop, please!" Edward said from underneath me. The words were polite but his voice was seething with barely controlled anger.

Suddenly, I realised that my body was pressed flush against his as I screamed into his face and tried to hurt them both in any way I could. Esme had her arms round my waist and was trying in vain to pull me off them, but she didn't need to. As soon as I realised that I was lying atop of two young men, I was on the other side of the kitchen, having slammed into the wall and caused a little trickle of dust to fall in my hair. I cowered like a child, curled up into a protective ball, petrified.

"Don't touch me," I said again, but this time I did not sound fierce at all."

"It's alright, dear, they won't," Esme promised.

"We won't hurt you," the doctor echoed. I wanted to believe him, but I wouldn't let myself.

"You're safe," Edward assured me. "Even if we wanted to harm you—which we don't—we couldn't. You're stronger than us, at least for now."

"Why?" I asked shortly.

It was the doctor who answered. "You're what we call a newborn. For the first year of this life you'll be stronger than the rest of us, but your bloodlust will also be much worse and you will need to avoid humans at all cost."

Newborn? I certainly felt like a child, with my wild impulsive emotions and utter ignorance as to this strange new world that it seemed I had always lived in.

"Your emotions are part of that," Edward confirmed. "You'll get used to it though."

I found that hard to believe.

"You will," he repeated.

Whenever he spoke, Edward's voice was totally composed, and more than a little cold. Why, I didn't know and didn't much care. Suspicion was clouding my mind.

He hesitated before nodding his head.

I let out a guttural moan and my face collapsed into a defeated grimace.

"Edward?" Esme asked, and I understood now why everyone turned to him.

"She figured out my talent," he replied in a low voice.

"You're taking everything away from me," I complained. I knew I sounded petulant, but what did it matter? They had already termed me a babe. "My whole life, it's gone."

"That's not true," Esme said in a low voice that was clearly meant to comfort me, but I flared up again, standing up to look her in the eye.

"How so? I was going to get married this weekend. I was going to have a beautiful wedding and I was going to live in a beautiful house, and I was going to have beautiful children, one day. Well, I can hardly get married now, can I?" I asked bitterly.

The doctor and his wife exchanged confused glances, but before they could question my resentment, Edward intervened.

"She's talking in the abstract," he informed them.

"And can you stay out of my head!"

He shook his head. "I can't help it. For me, it's just like hearing you talking; I can't avoid it."

I groaned.

"It's not that bad," Esme said soothingly.

"What: Edward or being a vampire?" I asked sullenly.

"Both. Edward doesn't misuse his gift and he won't tell us your thoughts. And this life, it's not so terrible."

I raised an eyebrow at her, but she smiled.

"I've got married, haven't I?" she reminded me, sharing a glance with the doctor that was entirely saturated with love. It almost sickened me as I thought of my fiancé, but with a supreme amount of effort, I kept my dancing thoughts from the kind of love he had forced on me.

Edward smiled. That shocked me enough to distract me entirely.

"And come with me," Esme said. "I want to show you something."

The smile disappeared. "Esme," Edward said warningly, but she shook her head.

"I trust her. She won't hurt me."

"Of course I won't!" I protested, but Edward fixed me with a piercing look.

"Your emotions?" he reminded me.

"I won't hurt her," I repeated forcefully.

Esme decided not to wait for him to agree with me and led me out of the now ruined kitchen, up the stairs to what I assumed was the master bedroom. She paused before she opened the door.

"You should be aware that your eyes are red," she told me gently. "They won't be like that forever; they'll turn golden in a year if you decide to live on animals, less if you're careful."

"Of course I'm going to live on animals!" I said, shocked, repeating her words rather than admitting out loud that I was going to be drinking their blood. "I will not be some sort of savage beast!"

She smiled again, almost grinned, and I couldn't help but smile back. Though it was her husband who had condemned me to this life, though she was a vampire, though she hadn't killed me when I asked, I was beginning to love Esme Cullen. She had already proven that she trusted me, and she had spent the majority of her time since I had woken up trying to comfort me, unlike the men. And of course there was the simple fact that she was a woman. I still wouldn't admit it, but I already knew that I would trust women far more easily forevermore.

Esme opened the door and guided me into her bedroom, to in front of her wardrobe which bore a full length mirror. I stopped and stared.

I was wearing a pale blue dress that Esme must have put me in while I was unaware. It didn't quite fit, but I barely noticed. My reflection was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. No, it was beyond beautiful. I was ravishing, exquisite, breathtaking... I didn't have enough adjectives, superlatives, to describe myself. I marvelled even more when I remembered my injuries; I had visualised my flapping eyelid, my bleeding nose, my torn lips and grieved for them, but now they were beyond beautiful. They were perfect. I was perfect. Even my eyes, burning scarlet, were glowing like rubies in front of flames. I was...

I was me. Rosalie Lillian Hale, the most beautiful woman in Rochester, in New York. I was still me. When I saw myself in the mirror, I accepted what I'd been given and resigned myself to it, because I was Rosalie Hale, and I knew I could survive whatever was thrown at me.

Then, as I went to turn away, my engagement ring caught my eye. I had thought it beautiful before and I suppose it still was: a blood red ruby surrounded my clusters of white diamonds, set in a sparkling gold band. Now, though, it made me think of an eye, my own eye. Watching. They say diamonds are forever; well, I had my own forever now. I took off the ring, watching it as it watched me, and then deliberately, slowly, I placed it on the fourth finger of my right hand. It would remind me of another engagement to uphold: an engagement between Royce King and death.

A/N: Right, I need help. In the next chapter, the Cullen family will have to leave Rochester. At this point, I have to curse my Britishness and my utter hatred for Geography, because I have no idea where to send them. Any ideas would be truly gratefully received. If you can put them anywhere near Atlanta, that would be brilliant - bear in mind that they'll be staying away from humans for a year anyway, so the sun is less of a problem. I just need somewhere utterly deserted. Thank you in advance!