
with what they had, even if it was so much more than most. They wanted more. They had 
social aspirations - social climbers, I suppose you could call them. My beauty was like a gift 
to them. They saw so much more potential in it than I did. 

"They weren't satisfied, but I was. I was thrilled to be me, to be Rosalie Hale. Pleased that 
men's eyes watched me everywhere I went, from the year I turned twelve. Delighted that my 
girlfriends sighed with envy when they touched my hair. Happy that my mother was proud of 
me and that my father liked to buy me pretty dresses. 

"I knew what I wanted out of life, and there didn't seem to be any way that I wouldn't get 
exactly what I wanted. I wanted to be loved, to be adored. I wanted to have a huge, flowery 
wedding, where everyone in town would watch me walk down the aisle on my father's arm 
and think I was the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen. Admiration was like air to me, 
Bella. I was silly and shallow, but I was content." She smiled, amused at her own evaluation. 

"My parents' influence had been such that I also wanted the material things of life. I wanted a 
big house with elegant furnishings that someone else would clean and a modern kitchen that 
someone else would cook in. As I said, shallow. Young and very shallow. And I didn't see 
any reason why I wouldn't get these things. 

"There were a few things I wanted that were more meaningful. One thing in particular. My 
very closest friend was a girl named Vera. She married young, just seventeen. She married a 
man my parents would never have considered for me - a carpenter. A year later she had a son, 
a beautiful little boy with dimples and curly black hair. It was the first time I'd ever felt truly 

 

jealous of anyone else in my entire life." 

She looked at me with unfathomable eyes. "It was a different time. I was the same age as 
you, but I was ready for it all. I yearned for my own little baby. I wanted my own house and a 
husband who would kiss me when he got home from work - just like Vera. Only I had a very 
different kind of house in mind. . . ." 

It was hard for me to imagine the world that Rosalie had known. Her story sounded more 
like a fairy tale than history to me. With a slight shock, I realized that this was very close to 
the world that Edward would have experienced when he was human, the world he had 
grown up in. I wondered - while Rosalie sat silent for a moment - if my world seemed as 
baffling to him as Rosalie's did to me? 

Rosalie sighed, and when she spoke again her voice was different, the wistfulness gone. 

"In Rochester, there was one royal family - the Kings, ironically enough. Royce King owned 
the bank my father worked at, and nearly every other really profitable business in town. 
That's how his son, Royce King the Second" - her mouth twisted around the name, it came 
out through her teeth - "saw me the first time. He was going to take over at the bank, and so 
he began overseeing the different positions. Two days later, my mother conveniently forgot 
to send my father's lunch to work with him. I remember being confused when she insisted 
that I wear my white organza and roll my hair up just to run over to the bank." Rosalie 
laughed without humor. 

"I didn't notice Royce watching me particularly. Everyone watched me. But that night the 
first of the roses came. Every night of our courtship, he sent a bouquet of roses to me. My 
room was always overflowing with them. It got to the point that I would smell like roses 
when I left the house. 

"Royce was handsome, too. He had lighter hair than I did, and pale blue eyes. He said my 
eyes were like violets, and then those started showing up alongside the roses. 

"My parents approved - that's putting it mildly. This was everything they'd dreamed of. And 
Royce seemed to be everything I'd dreamed of. The fairy tale prince, come to make me a 
princess. Everything I wanted, yet it was still no more than I expected. We were engaged 
before I'd known him for two months. 

"We didn't spend a great deal of time alone with each other. Royce told me he had many 
responsibilities at work, and, when we were together, he liked people to look at us, to see me 
on his arm. I liked that, too. There were lots of parties, dancing, and pretty dresses. When 
you were a King, every door was open for you, every red carpet rolled out to greet you. 

"It wasn't a long engagement. Plans went ahead for the most lavish wedding. It was going to 
be everything I'd ever wanted. I was completely happy. When I called at Vera's, I no longer 
felt jealous. I pictured my fair-haired children playing on the huge lawns of the Kings' estate, 
and I pitied her." 

 

Rosalie broke off suddenly, clenching her teeth together. It pulled me out of her story, and I 
realized that the horror was not far off. There would be no happy ending, as she'd promised. I 
wondered if this was why she had so much more bitterness in her than the rest of them - 
because she'd been within reach of everything she'd wanted when her human life was cut 
short. 

"I was at Vera's that night," Rosalie whispered. Her face was smooth as marble, and as hard. 
"Her little Henry really was adorable, all smiles and dimples - he was just sitting up on his 
own. Vera walked me to the door as I was leaving, her baby in her arms and her husband at 
her side, his arm around her waist. He kissed her on the cheek when he thought I wasn't 
looking. That bothered me. When Royce kissed me, it wasn't quite the same - not so sweet 
somehow. . . . I shoved that thought aside. Royce was my prince. Someday, I would be 
queen." 

It was hard to tell in the moonlight, but it looked like her bone white face got paler. 

"It was dark in the streets, the lamps already on. I hadn't realized how late it was." She 
continued to whisper almost inaudibly. "It was cold, too. Very cold for late April. The 
wedding was only a week away, and I was worrying about the weather as I hurried home - I 
can remember that clearly. I remember every detail about that night. I clung to it so hard . . . 
in the beginning. I thought of nothing else. And so I remember this, when so many pleasant 
memories have faded away completely. . . ." 

She sighed, and began whispering again. "Yes, I was worrying about the weather. . . . I didn't 
want to have to move the wedding indoors. . . . 

"I was a few streets from my house when I heard them. A cluster of men under a broken 
streetlamp, laughing too loud. Drunk. I wished I'd called my father to escort me home, but 
the way was so short, it seemed silly. And then he called my name. 

"'Rose!' he yelled, and the others laughed stupidly. 

"I hadn't realized the drunks were so well dressed. It was Royce and some of his friends, sons 
of other rich men. 

"'Here's my Rose!' Royce shouted, laughing with them, sounding just as stupid. 'You're late. 
We're cold, you've kept us waiting so long.'" 

"I'd never seen him drink before. A toast, now and then, at a party. He'd told me he didn't 
like champagne. I hadn't realized that he preferred something much stronger. 

"He had a new friend - the friend of a friend, come up from Atlanta. 

"'What did I tell you, John,' Royce crowed, grabbing my arm and pulling me closer. 'Isn't she 
lovelier than all your Georgia peaches?' 

 

"The man named John was dark-haired and suntanned. He looked me over like I was a horse 
he was buying. 

"'It's hard to tell,' he drawled slowly. 'She's all covered up.' 

"They laughed, Royce like the rest. 

"Suddenly, Royce ripped my jacket from my shoulders - it was a gift from him - popping the 
brass buttons off. They scattered all over the street. 

"'Show him what you look like, Rose!' He laughed again and then he tore my hat out of my 
hair. The pins wrenched my hair from the roots, and I cried out in pain. They seemed to enjoy 
that - the sound of my pain. . . ." 

Rosalie looked at me suddenly, as if she'd forgotten I was there. I was sure my face was as 
white as hers. Unless it was green. 

"I won't make you listen to the rest," she said quietly. "They left me in the street, still 
laughing as they stumbled away. They thought I was dead. They were teasing Royce that he 
would have to find a new bride. He laughed and said he'd have to learn some patience first. 

"I waited in the road to die. It was cold, though there was so much pain that I was surprised 
it bothered me. It started to snow, and I wondered why I wasn't dying. I was impatient for 
death to come, to end the pain. It was taking so long. . . . 

"Carlisle found me then. He'd smelled the blood, and come to investigate. I remember being 
vaguely irritated as he worked over me, trying to save my life. I'd never liked Dr. Cullen or 
his wife and her brother - as Edward pretended to be then. It had upset me that they were all 
more beautiful than I was, especially that the men were. But they didn't mingle in society, so 
I'd only seen them once or twice. 

"I thought I'd died when he pulled me from the ground and ran with me - because of the 
speed - it felt like I was flying. I remembered being horrified that the pain didn't stop. . . . 

"Then I was in a bright room, and it was warm. I was slipping away, and I was grateful as the 
pain began to dull. But suddenly something sharp was cutting me, my throat, my wrists, my 
ankles. I screamed in shock, thinking he'd brought me there to hurt me more. Then fire 
started burning through me, and I didn't care about anything else. I begged him to kill me. 
When Esme and Edward returned home, I begged them to kill me, too. Carlisle sat with me. 
He held my hand and said that he was so sorry, promising that it would end. He told me 
everything, and sometimes I listened. He told me what he was, what I was becoming. I didn't 
believe him. He apo