Author: SteneMichele PM
Rosalie was ruined. Rosalie was attacked, and destroyed in the middle of a barren street. But she is different now. Rosalie is a vampire, and it is her turn to bring fear to the eyes of her attackers. Yes, revenge is sweet.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Horror/Drama - Rosalie & Edward - Chapters: 6 - Words: 6,163 - Reviews: 18 - Favs: 11 - Follows: 4 - Updated: 02-13-09 - Published: 01-27-09 - Status: Complete - id: 4821927
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
It was dark outside and the streetlights emanated an eerie glow over the cobblestone street. This was convenient; it would add to the terror that I was supplying this evening. Yes, the terror would be magnificent... I had dreamed of this for years! To see the hair on the back of their necks stand up! To hear their screams of dread! Oh, it would be heaven. Sweet revenge.
He came at a quarter past eight. I had sent him a letter under the name of his high school sweetheart, begging him to meet me under the lamppost. He was the first one. His name was Caleb St. Laurent, and his voice, amongst others, had haunted me for the past two years. I remembered the way his storm cloud eyes had filled with greed as he fought over me. His face had contorted into a sickly grin, colder than the snowy ground that I had been attacked on.
As he turned the corner, he looked gleeful. To my intense amusement, he had a red rose in his hand. What a foolish man.
I stalled, letting him grow anxious. He grew antsy as I watched from the thorn bushes, constantly checking the letter that I had sent him to double check that he had the right time. Quickly, I fixed my hair and applied a fresh coat of lipstick. It was time.
"Is that for me?" I asked innocently, gesturing towards the rose. Caleb spun around, a smile of relief on his face. He recognized me at once, and his grin faded as if somebody had shot him. His eyes narrowed as if he was doubting what he was seeing. The red rose fell to the ground, landing in the soft white snow.
"No," he whispered, his voice rich with fear, "It's not you..." I let out a menacing laugh, causing the immense man to grab the lamppost for support.
"It is me," I corrected him, before closing the space between us in one stride. He froze, taken aback by my inhuman speed.
"How did you..." he stammered, his voice heavy with alcohol. This upset me. The smell of it, the heavy liquor in his voice, sent flutters and flashbacks flying through my mind, making me want to scream. No, I reminded myself, This is their night to be afraid.
"Still on the booze, then?" I cooed, blowing an icy gust of air into his ear, "I thought we had learned..." Caleb had started to tremble violently, and beads of sweat were forming on his neck despite the chill of the night.
"I didn't- I don't want trouble," he grumbled, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender. My anger got the best of me, and I slapped him with as much force as I could muster. To my intense pleasure, he fell to the ground, clutching his face in agony. I had broken his jaw. Damn. He probably couldn't scream now.
"I'll do the talking," I snapped, crouching down and kneeling over him. He widened his gray eyes, his jaw trembling violently. "I know what you're thinking," I whispered, stroking his broken jaw, "You think I'm a madwoman. You think that I'm going to kill you. Well, let me tell you something- You're right for that second one. I will kill you and I hope that you're conscious for every minute of it. You thought that you were so strong, ganging up on me 5 against one. Why didn't you ever attack me alone? You needed your cronies there to back you up? You, Caleb St. Laurent, are a coward. I will kill you, along with the others, one by one. Does that make you feel good?" Caleb was at a loss for words. He was not proving to be much fun, so I decided to speed things up a little. I took advantage of the few fighting skills that Emmett had taught me, not that I needed any advantage. I dug my two-inch nails into the pressure points on his neck, watching with joy as the life vanished from his eyes. He barely had time for one short gasp before he was dead. One down, four to go.