Disclaimer - All recognisable characters belong to their original owners. I do not make a profit from writing this; I simply do it for my own amusement. No copyright infringement intended.

PROMPT: HALLOWEEN / SPOOKY

TW: Rape / Death. Please read with caution.

Rosalie lay on the cold, hard ground, bullets of rain hitting her bare skin as the wind blew her matted hair around her. Her body ached. How could it not after the ordeal she had just experienced? Her boyfriend… and his friends deciding to pass her around like a cheap bottle of tequila.

She wished for death. Prayed for it. She felt used and dirty. She could feel their hands grabbing at her, tearing her clothing and pulling her hair. Molesting her skin as they each tried to touch her before finally settling on who would go first.

It was Royce, in case you were wondering. He declared that he should go first because she was his.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the images that danced around her head, reminding her that she was soiled.

Anger burned below her skin; it started out as a quiet flame that grew brighter and brighter the longer she lay there, discarded amongst some rubbish. Trash. That's what they thought she was.

It sizzled and fizzed and hissed and warmed her frozen skin. And suddenly, the wish for death was gone and replaced by something she wanted even more.

Revenge.

Yes, that's what she wanted. She wanted them to suffer like she had. Make them beg and scream and cry until they fell silent. She wanted their bodies to feel bruised and abused and completely foreign to them. She wanted them to feel utterly worthless. To have fear take over every inch of their body until it dominated them.

"I can help with that, you know?"

Rose opened her swollen eyes as much as she could and was shocked to find someone knelt down in front of her. He had an oval-shaped face with brown hair that was greying and a thin nose. He had a moustache that stretched over the top of his lip, and he looked genuinely happy.

"Wh-" Rose tried to speak before realising that they squeezed her throat so tight she couldn't form the words.

Who the hell are you? Her thoughts were hazy. The stranger didn't seem to be affected by her state of undress or the blood splattered around her.

"I've got a lot of names, but you can call me Aro."

Rose stared at him, her vision slightly blurry.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I can read your mind. There isn't much I can't do. Except manipulate time." He shook his head. "Still mad about that, but what can you do?" Aro shrugged his shoulders. "Did you mean it? What you were thinking about before? Do you want to get revenge?" His eyes danced with the word.

Rose thought about it. Yes. Yes, she did. It was no longer a want but a need. A primal need to teach Royce and his friends a lesson. She wanted to prove to them that they couldn't do this. She wasn't a piece of trash that could be discarded. She was a human woman who deserved respect.

His eyes narrowed, and he beamed at her. "Excellent." He clapped his hands together, the noise startingly loud. "Well, you can't do it like this; you're dying."

It wasn't exactly a shock to her, and the thought didn't scare Rose as much as she thought it would.

"But I can fix that. I just need something from you… your soul."

Again… fear didn't even enter the equation. Rose was too… excited about this prospect.

He waved his hand, and a piece of paper appeared, floating mid-air. "I'd ask you to sign on the dotted line, but," he paused as his eyes roamed over her. He wasn't leering; he was simply taking in her battered state. "That's not an option, so a drop of blood is enough."

He lifted her damp, cold hand, and Rose felt a pinprick sensation when he pressed his finger to hers, a droplet of blood forming on the tip. Rose was surprised at that; she didn't think she had much blood left.

"Do you want this, Rosalie? Revenge in exchange for your soul?" She didn't think her soul was worth anything at this point.

Yes, she thought clearly.

"Good." He pressed her finger to the paper, and a blinding light burst through the alley.

I wrote this a while ago as a prologue for a prompt I got from Tumblr, and I am hoping to turn this into a full-length story (God, you must be sick of me saying that!).