Chapter summary: Here I am, nice and safe, on the "safe side," and I get to watch how Rosalie's life is destroyed, second by second, and see how sweet, little, innocent me was the one to do this to her.


Have you ever seen someone that you thought you knew, but then you find out you didn't know her at all?

Rosalie was emerging from the forest, but she wasn't walking purposefully. There was a hesitancy in her step, and the way she carried herself, head down, looking out of the corner of her eye? There was a demureness to her, and if I didn't know better I would've said a shyness to the way she looked. But I knew her better than that. Rosalie wasn't shy. Not the one I know.

But this ... person, this ... shy girl, emerging from the forest wasn't the Rosalie I knew. Because beside the shyness to her, there was a sense of expectation, of excitement to her that I didn't know what it was for.

Oh, and there was somebody with her.

Yeah. That.

She was holding somebody's hand, and she was talking to him quietly, and smiling at him, like ...

Okay, I saw red now, because she was talking to him like I ... wish she would've talked to me, if she noticed me that way, which she didn't.

I didn't see who it was. She was walking with him up a slope, and sitting on the tree trunk, I had the advantage of height for the line-of-sight, but the trees were thick, and they both were coming up from behind a thicket, so I barely saw her, and I couldn't see him at all. I just saw them walking up, hand-in-hand, like really good friends.

I mean, like, really, really good friends.

I ground my teeth as I wondered who it could be. Did she meet a boy in the town where she bought all the supplies? She asked me about boys ... did she find one for herself? I mean, it must be pretty boring for her just looking after a crybaby girl in a cabin, and she said she had to go 'hunting' often, ... I just didn't know that when she said that she wasn't hunting for her food but hunting for ... well ...

But who was I to ...

Fuck.

Yeah. Who was I to tell her who she could see or not see? She said we were equals, but that doesn't mean there's an understanding between us. I mean, why would there be? After I so obviously told her to keep her hands off me, why would I have the right to tell her where she could or couldn't put her hands on, and on who she could do ... that.

I just realized I said 'fuck' to myself.

I waited with baited breath to see who this asshole ... I mean, this boy, who must be very nice, because Rosalie picked him, and she only picks the very best ...

except for me ...

and, ... shoot! Rosalie told me not to denigrate myself anymore, and I goddamn better step up my game if I didn't want her to leave me high and dry forever for Mr. L.R. there, Mr. Lucky Right, and all the best to them and maybe she'd let me be the maid of honor, but she'd better kick me out of the church because I'd sure as hell have something to say when the priest asked, 'Does anyone have objections to this matrimony? Speak now or forever hold your peace.' and I would not be holding any peace right then, I tell you what! I'd be so like, 'Excuse me, but I just wanna say that ...'

Rosalie emerged from the thicket with Mr. Right...

But...

Okay, something's really, really wrong with me or my eyesight, because he wasn't there. Or, she was walking with somebody, because you can't walk, hand-in-hand, and fake that you're walking with somebody when you're not. You can't pretend, at every step, adjusting to their step, being slowed down by them a little bit, turning to them to see they walk over a fallen branch okay, ... all that. You can't do that pretend exactly like there's somebody there, when there isn't. You can't have a pretend friend and actually physically adjust to them continuously. I know. When I was a little girl, my pretend friends, Leesa and Weesa, were there and my hand, but then they weren't and my parents thought it was so cute and asked about my 'pretend friends' and I told them that they weren't 'pretend friends.'

But now I know they actually were.

Rosalie wasn't with a pretend friend. There was the weight and shape of his hand in hers, she made space for him navigating the walk up the little hill, she talked to him, and she listened to him as he spoke back to her, she looked at him, and ... oh, God, ... smiled at him, shyly!

Was he a ghost, then, I wondered. Could vampires summon ghosts? ... and be friends with them? ... I mean, obviously, right? Ghosts wouldn't have blood, so Rosalie could have a conversation with one without the consternation she had around me and my blood that she had with me. But I thought ghosts were immaterial, right? So how could she be holding his hand? Maybe I knew just as much about ghosts now as I did about vampires before I met Rosalie and the others. Which was squat.

But if it were a ghost, what ghost would Rosalie summon to ...

Oh, my God! Royce King!

I flipped back over the back side of the tree trunk and hid there, peeking out over the top.

I don't know why she would summon up Royce King, but she did say that she wanted them to love each other and be husband and wife, maybe she took so long out in the forest because she and Royce had a talk and made up and now their back together again?

But if he's a ghost, maybe he can read minds now like Rosalie can? And then he'd read my mind, and ...

And he'd kill me.

Jealous husbands, and all that. It happens. You hear about it when you're in law enforcement.

And Rosalie said this is the safe side and that she wouldn't see me, because maybe she was looking into the ghost-world or something, but did she tell Royce that rule, huh? No. I don't think so with her looking at him all giddy like that. She probably forgot all about me sitting over here with that dismissive 'Excuse me, do I even know you?' look.

So maybe crosses really worked against ghosts, unlike for (real) vampires — (as opposed to 'fake vampires'?) — but if Royce wanted to chat with Rosalie and sat on this side, and then, well, he'd see me, and that'd be it for Bella — no more equals, no more nothing — 'cause I'd be toes-up and pushing up daisies after Royce put his cold, immaterial hand through my chest and squeezed my heart 'til it stopped beating.

I wonder if I'd feel my blood freeze as he was killing me...

Good thing I was already nearly scared halfway to death, because my whimper of fear died in my chest before it reached my throat.

... Yeah, I know, I sure do think great thoughts to keep my spirits up, don't I?

Rosalie and her Royal Kingly ghost-bestie were nearly up to the tree, on the 'dangerous side,' I noticed — thank God! — when she stopped short, looked around furtively, and then ... opened a door? to her room?

I was totally flipping out. There was no door there. It just...wasn't...there! but she opened it, stepped through with her new buddy-for-forever, peeked her head out, looking around quickly and closed it again. She then moved to her 'bed,' and sat on the very edge of it, looking toward the 'door' ... I guess toward ... him.

Was she in an alternate world with him? So she could see him? And they were actually in her bedroom back at her home, I mean, her 'estate'?

Who the hell owned 'estates'? I mean, besides super rich people.

And I thought chicken cordon bleu was reaching high. No wonder why she laughed right in my face when I suggested that as supper to her and her family ... she probably had that on off-days of the month or year, you know: when they weren't having the mayor or some poets and artists over, and stuff.

What happened if I walked to the other side of the cross? Would I be transported to the ghost-world? Would the cross disappear? Then I would be trapped and could never come back to this world, because I'm not a magical vampire like Rosalie is.

I gripped onto the reality of the tree trunk, squatting behind it, really, really hoping Rosalie was right about the safe side.

Rosalie spoke: "Yeah, this is my room."

"What?" I asked, then screamed to myself: shut-up! shut-up! SHUT UP!

Because it was now I realized that she wasn't speaking to me at all, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking straight ahead, looking slightly up, and she was talking with him, with Royce.

"Yeah," she said and shrugged, "it is pretty nice, I guess."

"Huh? My parents?" she said.

I just looked at her, trying to understand what was going on. My mind was so caught between reality and unreality I had no idea what was which anymore.

Then she smiled slightly and said, "No, they're out for the rest of today and won't be home 'til late tonight ... some banking dinner-dance-reception-whatever they always have to go to to."

Then she rolled her eyes, putting on an air of bored indifference, as if her parents left her to her own devices every night, because she was so mature and grown-up: a self-possessed woman.

And that's the surprising thing that I saw for the first time in my life, for now, Rosalie, finally, didn't look any of those things. Instead, she looked like a young teenage girl, so obviously trying to appear grown up, ... but looking so much younger and innocent and sweet for her bravado.

"Yeah-yeah," she said, sounding tolerant, "so the boring for you, Edward, because you're just so sophisticated about everything, aren't you?" And she laughed easily.

Wait.

Did she just say ... Edward?

EDWARD?

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! How did he find us? or her? And only 'her,' as I hope not me, I hope she didn't tell him I was here, especially after what I've just been thinking about him!

And how did he turn invisible? Was that his special power? Rosalie could read minds, or my mind, because she said Edward could read anybody's mind but mine, so did they have, like, opposite powers there, but he could turn invisible, too?

That must be it, because I remember he left me flowers — in my room! while I was sleeping in there! — and how could he do that without anybody in town noticing, unless he could turn invisible, right?

But why couldn't he see me? Did it work both ways? He couldn't see me if I couldn't see him?

And why did Rosalie invite him to her room? I thought she loathed the guy. Why is she all chummy with him now?

Wait. She said 'parents' as in both parents, but she said her father died, and like, a long time ago, too, like a half-a-year ago or something... did she go back into the past? Is she in the past now, with Edward, in her room?

Why the hell would she bring Edward to her room with her parents out? You're not supposed to have people visiting you without your parents chaperoning, you know, you could get into really big trouble if you did that. And, worse! People would talk about you behind your back.

I was really, really going to have to talk about that with her after we got back into the safe and warm cabin away from this super-spooky haunted woods.

I swear to God, this place gives me the willies sometimes, the snow talks to me and the past haunts hidden groves ... and I'm on the 'safe side' of the forest? because I've got a cross that does what to vampires?

Yeah, right! Some talisman! Really helpful! ... not!

"Edward?" she said suddenly surprised, breaking into my ruminations, then she looked right beside herself on her bed and asked: "What are you doing?"

Then she said no more, because her head snapped back and she threw up her arms defensively and grunted out a "Mmmnhh!"

And I jumped a little in place, scared by her sudden movement.

But then her stiffened back relaxed, and her flailing arms did too, and then they went in front of her and wrapped inches from her face.

I've seen that happen. When two of the older kids in school graduated and got married, they were so ... open about it ... I mean, he even kissed her right at the wedding reception and everything! And instead of smacking him across the face, she wrapped her arms around his head and neck, and kissed right back. Hard.

I was just a little girl, so it was like a major eww! moment for me, and I hid behind my parents' legs, but looking at it again, right in front of me now ...

Something was happening to me ... inside. And I didn't know what it was, and frankly, I didn't want to know. Just too many things were happening to me today, and I was afraid my head was about to explode.

And just like that young bride, Rosalie kissed Edward back, and they were kissing long, and they were kissing hard.

And whatever it was that was happening in my tummy, seeing them kissing like that? It turned from tightness into acid, and it hurt as it burned in me, and I couldn't look because I was so grossed out by their careless disregard for propriety and for other people's feelings, and I finally understood what 'get a room!' meant. I've heard at the bar when Pa took me and the deputies out after a long week — I had a coke, okay, so don't give me that look, okay? — the boys cat-calling to each other as one deputy would order a drink for a girl at the bar and they would look at each other across the room, and the other deputies would shout out 'get a room!' and Pa would nudge the guy and say, 'She looks nice, go talk to her,' and the guy would turn green and run to the bathroom.

Rosalie was kissing Edward back so hard, it made me want to puke like that deputy, and shout, 'Oh, for Chrissake! Get a room!'

But they did 'get a room,' they were in her room ... and that's what you did when you got a room.

It was so disgusting!

And no, I'm not pissed at all, thank you for asking.

But they just kept kissing and kissing, until I was like ... Boring! But Rosalie didn't seem bored at all, in fact, she seemed to like it which pissed me off more, for some reason, and then she sank down onto her 'bed,' fully lying down on it, her arms still wrapped around Edward as they kissed.

But then she squirmed, shifting onto her back on the bed, then she jerked, and squirmed again, scooting away from Jerkward, just a little bit, then broke away, dropping her hands to her chest, protectively and at the same time violently jerking her head back and away.

"Edward! Edward!" she exclaimed. "Not so fast! Jesus! Take me out to dinner or something first, but ... uhhh!"

And I saw her throw her back, fully, exposing her neck, and I saw her throat working, as she jerked her head from side to side to side, and her hands ... her hands were trying to cover her breasts, and being jerked away, then trying to cover her breasts, and being very forcefully moved away.

And then ... she gave up? She didn't relax, but her movements became less violent, her head was still thrown all the way back, but now she was breathing in huge, throaty gasps, almost grunting, and her hands fell to her sides, but she arched her back, so her breasts were jutting straight up, very tight against the material of her shirt; their shape very clearly defined.

And then ...

And then she quietly lifted her shirt ... up and over her breasts, leaving herself fully exposed, her shirt up to her chin, her breasts heaving, her nipples so hard, her back arching, sometimes side-to-side, first presenting one breast for attention, then the other.

And all the while she would bend her head forward, and get and give heavy kisses and then she would throw her head back, panting, mewing, sounding exhausted, but sounding so filled with desire for this not to stop.

And then I realized ...

Oh, God!

... and the tears started to fall ...

... that this was ... that she was now showing me 'first base' and 'second base' ... and she was showing me this on herself, because ... because ...

Because I was such a fucking too-scared little shit for her to show this to me ... that could have been me, kissing her, instead of Edward. That could have been me, making her cry out like that, and bite her lip, and the back of her fist like that, instead of Edward.

Or ... that didn't feel right ... No, not that. Not me on top of her like that, but it could've been me, mewing, letting her fondle my tiny, tiny little titties as she kissed me and kissed me and kissed me, and not like Edward kissed her, hard, and, forceful, and brutal, but like she said she would for me: gently, sweetly ... like a woman kisses. Softer.

And my whole chest just hurt in sympathy of thinking of her doing that to me, and I felt so ashamed. I felt so ashamed of myself that instead of allowing this to happen, instead of allowing her to kiss me and hold me like that in the snow, I screamed 'stop-stop-rape-rape!' and guaranteed she would never look at me or even think about that again.

So now she had to show me this on herself.

And the from the pit of my stomach, the acid churned, and then spoke to me.

She ain't showing you shit, you dumb bitch, it spat viciously, she's for real getting it on with the guy she wants to be with, since you are so obviously fail when it comes to where it really counts!

And I almost vomited right then and there, to get that hateful bile out of my stomach. It was telling me things I so did not want to hear right now.

It was speaking vile awfulness, and what hurt all the more, is that it was speaking the truth.

And all I could do is swallow the poison as it spoke these poisonous words to me, and watch Rosalie writhe and rise to meet Edward's every touch, and know she was for him, because she knew from me that it wasn't me that would be for her.

And then she stopped, suddenly, and her eyes opened wide.

"Edward, no!" she commanded, her head shifting to look down, ... way down.

Edward apparently wasn't listening, because she said it again, more forcefully.

"Edwwward! NO!" she said.

And her hands flashed down to her crotch, protectively covering herself there, then she lifted one hand to chest-height and pushed, hard, against the air, against invisible Edward, on top of her.

She must have succeeded, because she looked like she was being pressed down into her bed, and now it looked like a weight was lifted from her entire body. Before she was ... compressed? And now she was lying flat on her back, unencumbered. She quickly flipped to her side, propping her head up with her hand, and at the same time pulling her shirt back down, recovering her breasts.

"Edward!" she scolded fiercely, "you really, really have to ..."

Her scolding died in her throat, and her mouth hung open, and she had this incredibly stupid expression on her face, her eyes as large as saucers.

"Holy fuck!" she whispered in an awed voice.

She stared openly at her Edward, her eyes level, that is: belt-height, and it looked like she could tear her eyes away from the object in question.

From Edward's ... thing.

She would glance up to Edward's face, but her eyes always seemed to be dragged back down South.

"Edward, you're fucking big!" she finally exclaimed.

Okay, Rosalie Hale at a loss for words because you whipped it out? What kind of ego-boost would that be? Edward must've been standing there, chest puffed out, proud as a peecock.

"Yeah, well, don't let it get to your head!" Rosalie tried to sound nonchalant at Edward who was probably crowing his stupid head off, but her weak attempt to appear casual about it all didn't even convince me.

It didn't convince him either, because Rosalie's eyes shifted, and her head tilted, ... following Edward as he closed on her. Her hand was covering her crotch, but then it was gently pushed away, and the top button of her denim jeans was undone. She put her hand back over herself, but you could see she was doing that just because she was supposed to, just because it was a matter of form that a girl was supposed to protect her virtue from the stupid evil beasts that all men are, but it was obvious there was no fight in her now. She was like a little bird now, entranced by a cobra before it strikes. And each time her hand moved to protect herself, it was pushed away without protest, and another button on her jeans was undone.

Until there were no more buttons left, and she scooted on the bed, and lifted up her back up a little, and scooted more, ... and her jeans were down around her knees. And it was Rosalie who kicked off her jeans; it wasn't Edward who took them off her.

And then she spread her legs open, for him, and I saw a little tuft of golden hair, and I saw her bare lips, longer than my tiny slit, puffier, fuller, so, so different than mine ... it looked somehow ... mature, and knowing, and wise, and kind ... not at all childish, like I felt mine to be. I had never seen hers in that way, and seeing it now, so freely offered, I had never seen anything more desirous nor beautiful until now.

And I saw a little bit of dew on her lips, sparkling in the sunlight, and the scent ... the scent of honeysuckle and rose was heavy in the air, overpowering and intoxicating.

And she was giving this — herself — to Edward.

And I don't know why, but a very tiny, sad "No" escaped my lips, and one then two tears fell from my eyes.

Rosalie didn't even hear me. She was looking right up at Edward, her real true love, and that's all she saw ... that's all that existed for her.

Edward was now her world, and with her look, she gave herself to him, and him only.

She bit her lip shyly, and turned her head to the side, and whispered something. "Edward, I have to tell you something, ..." then she looked ashamed, "... I'm not a virgin ... OW!"

The last she yelped in surprise, and in pain, and at the same time, I saw her vagina almost cave in for a second, then spring back, and I winced in sympathetic pain, like when in gym class one of the girls fell on the balance beam, between her legs, and she cried and cried and cried and had to be out of school for a long time after that.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Edward!" Rosalie shouted angrily. "You can't just ram that thing in there! I wasn't fucking ready, for God's sake! Ever hear of foreplay, you dumb ass?"

I hadn't heard of foreplay, either. I didn't even know what it meant. Did that make me a double dumb ass?

"Can you just take it easy on me with that goddamn tree truck? I don't have a fucking cave for a pussy, you know!" she complained.

I was of two minds. I wish I knew beforehand what all this meant, so I wouldn't be shell-shocked by it all, but now, knowing exactly what she was saying? I kinda wish I still didn't know, because I really didn't know how to handle any of this, these feelings, so I just kind of tried to block it all and hope it would just go away.

But it didn't go away, my feelings that I couldn't handle, and the 'tree trunk' that Rosalie's 'pussy' couldn't, either.

Like Rosalie had told me, I didn't even know half before, and knowing half, I saw I didn't even know half of that.

"Okay, okay, okay," Rosalie whined desperately, and I saw her slit opening, then expanding, and then ... stretching.

"Easy, Edward, easy, easy," she pleaded, as I saw her being pressed down, and her pussy opening up, trying to accommodate him as he slid further and further ... in.

And then, even as she was biting her lip and whining, she rolled her eyes and, dripping sarcasm, snidely remarked, "Yes, Edward, I kept myself nice and tight for you. You're welcome, you bastard."

I never thought I would hear somebody being called 'bastard' with affectionate tones.

And then she grunted an 'Unh!' and bit her lip, and relaxed her head onto the bed and panted for a while.

"Oh, my God!" she gasped. "Oh, my fucking God!"

Then she chuckled a small laugh and said: "Thank you, Edward, I know you're in. I figured that out for myself."

I wondered what was supposed to happen next, because nothing seemed to be happening. Rosalie was just looking up at Edward, and I guess Edward was looking back at her. Was this what she was showing me? I didn't get it.

And then something did happened. She shifted a tiny little bit on her bed, and nodded her head.

"'Kay," she said quietly.

It must've been some signal, because she began being rocked on the bed. I saw her hips begin pulled up, and everything in her clenched, then she was thrust back down, hard, and when that happened, Rosalie gasped, as if she were punched in the stomach.

She lifted up her legs, wrapping them around Edward's and then the same with her arms, wrapping them around his back.

And the motions became more pronounced, and more forceful. Edward may have listened to her at first to take it easy, but now he wasn't. Rosalie asked me if I wanted it rough or gentle, and now I was seeing it rough. Rosalie's body was being pounded into the bed, over and over again, and at each thrust, she gasped and clenched her whole body.

But she said she would've liked it rough from Royce as a lover and a husband, and I saw this here, too. She was being ridden hard, and it didn't look like it was any fun at all to me, and I couldn't say she was having 'fun,' ...

... but it looked like she wanted this, that her whole body was responding to some primitive need, and that need was this.

Rosalie was being fucked so hard, she literally lost her grip. As Edward continued to pound, harder and harder, faster and faster, her arms fell off his back, and her legs fell open onto the bed. She couldn't do anything but be fucked, and her body just automatically responded, her own hips weakly meeting Edward's powerful thrusts.

And she turned her head to the side, facing me, just trying to take everything Edward gave, and her eyes opened, and she stared out blankly, mouth opened.

And I gasped in shock.

Her eyes were golden.

I hadn't ... her eyes were always black after she kidnapped me. I had seen her golden eyes in Ekalaka, burnished with red, but then she took me out here, and I had my period, and her eyes went black, and they never turned back to gold.

I guess I associated her eye color with the amount of pain she was in, the darker, the more empty her stomach. That worked, but that didn't make any sense, because she was always out hunting, like, nearly every day, when she said vampires only needed to go out once every ten days or so.

So, it was my proximity? Vampires hung out with each other, right? Not around humanity, because it made them hungry?

But that didn't make sense, either, because Hales, or the Cullens, were always around people, but it didn't matter to them. Their eyes were golden, like: all the time when I saw them.

Her eyes also got darker when she got angry.

So, here she is, being fucked by Edward, and looking right through me with her pure-gold eyes, but when she's with me, in this world, they're always black.

And I put two and two together.

She wanted to be with Edward, more than anything.

And as nice as she was to me on the outside, calling me equal and all that, on the inside her black-black eyes were telling her that everything I was was exactly what she didn't want.

And I shut my mouth as my tears fell, because ...

Because I now knew exactly what was going on here. She and Royce were engaged, but she said Edward had shown up and attended parties, and that they had 'conversed.'

Yeah. They were 'conversing,' all right.

She and Royce were going to get married, but here she had snuck Edward into her house, and they were ... trysting.

And that's why when Carlisle found her on the road, almost dead, he brought her ... 'home.' Because that was really going to be her home. Edward probably told his parents that he had been meeting Rosalie at night, and they figured the rest out, as parents do, and left it alone, I guess, or gave him a parental lecture, but let this boy be a boy, but when she was nearly dead, no hope of being able to recover, they said, 'Well, now that she's here, and you two have been having your rendezvous in private, well ...'

And the killer for me? Probably everything went fine, or more than 'fine' if this is what Edward wanted and what Rosalie needed — a good hard fuck to keep her happy — but then they moved out here, and Edward saw me, and for some goddamn stupid reason forgot all about Rosalie and pursued me with a very clear message to her: "No longer interested in you, Miss Perfectly cold stuck-up bitch ... I like shy human girls."

Edward didn't originally reject Rosalie. Obviously. I mean, the proof is right in front of me: they're fucking away like nobody's business, right behind Royce's back ... who ... knew? So he took it out on Rosalie? But here they were, then, a year ago, and then they came out West, and Edward dropped her like a hot potato the second he saw me.

Bella the home-wrecker.

Ouch.

I am a fucking cunt.

And I didn't even realize this until right this second.

Rosalie kidnapped me, not because I knew shit, or maybe that was the excuse, I don't know. But Rosalie kidnapped me because I stole her man, and all she could do is sit in bed and watch him introduce me to her!

And she even talks to me why?

Could I forgive someone if they stole everything I wanted in life? I mean, I'm not in Rosalie's place. I didn't have my life all perfectly planned out with a husband owning the bank, the estate and the kids all lined up in a row ... but if I did, and that was taken away from me? And then my fallback up and leaves me for this ... kid who doesn't know shit about shit, huh?

How would I've taken it if I could just take her away and just get rid her with nobody knowing about it?

Would I have done that, even if nobody could stop me? I don't know. Me? No ... but if I were Rosalie, and lost everything, would I've killed me?

Would Rosalie've killed Royce?

Obvious answer: she did.

But here she had me in the exact same spot she had Royce, minus a two heavily armed security guards and a foot-thick bank vault door, and I did to her worse than Royce. Royce took away her old life, and that ended that night.

But I took away her new life, and that was forever.

And here she is, in her new life, reliving her last moments, right in front of me, with her Edward, and I took that right away from her, and I had the gall to ask her what her problem was when she spurned my offering of a basket of cornbread and biscuits.

Putting some jam in the basket didn't help all that much.

"Here, Rosalie," I said, all sweet innocence, "have some bread and jam instead of Edward, because he's with me now, so fuck off."

Did I mention what a scumbag I am? I don't know if I mentioned that.

And all I could do is watch Edward fuck her, fuck the shit out of her, with her loving every moment of it, and watch what I took away from her.

But then, that is, back in the here and now, with Bella-the-scumbag watching Rosalie's happiness unfold, I saw Rosalie's blank golden-eyed stare refocus. Her eyebrows creased and then, instead of being thrust into the bed, she became still, and looked up at Edward, bringing her arms and legs around him, and then she pumped her hips a few times, but there was no force coming from him now, it was her, rocking against him.

"Yeah, you came really hard, Edward," she said, trying not to sound disappointed as she bit her lip.

She was unwrapped again from Edward, and she shook a little bit ... Edward hitting the bed beside her? And she just looked up at the sky, at her ceiling, and then, without a sound, mouthed a disappointed 'damn it!'

She just lay there, staring up into nothing for a moment, and I just watched her, looking at her being quiet.

Then suddenly she propped herself up, looking toward the door.

"Edward," she said, "where are you going?"

Concern creased her brow.

Then: "Now? WHY?"

"O-okay," she said, trying to sound okay about something that seemed to just tear her apart. "But you have to leave right now? Can't you, just, stay a few more minutes?"

I don't know what Edward had to do and right now, but obvious it was more important than staying with the most beautiful and perfect woman in the world.

My hate for Edward rekindled. I was this close to staring a forest fire: I was that hot with anger.

"Alright, Edward, okay. Yo-you'll telephone me tomorrow, maybe? I mean ..."

It was heartbreaking watching Rosalie fall apart and pretend not to.

"Okay, Edward, I-I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay, Edward. Okay. ... 'bye."

And then she blinked, staring blankly, for a long, long time, and then, all alone again, rolled up into a ball on her bed, covered her head with her arm, and whispered, "'Bye, Edward."

I was crying freely now, so quietly, to leave Rosalie in her sadness, but the tears just kept falling. I hated Edward. I hated him! But I wanted to run down that little hill into the forest, find that bastard, and scream at him to turn around — right fucking now! — and get his head on straight and go back to the girl who heart was breaking because of him! and drop whatever the hell he was pretending was so goddamn important and get back to what really was, because he was so seriously blowing this.

God! If I were Edward, I would've turned right back around and apologized to her for like twenty-seven hours and telephoned home and made whatever excuses I had to, but I would've stayed with her!

How could he miss this? How could he be so blatantly heartless?

Fuck it. Fuck. It.

I don't give a fuck about the 'safe side,' anymore. Consequences be damned! I don't care if I get lost forever in the ghost-world or whatever. I'm gonna cross over and I'll stay with her, I'll hold her if that fucking bastard won't. I'm not Edward. I don't have a tree trunk. I can't rip off her clothes and throw her on the bed and treat her rough like how, apparently, she likes, but I'll at least stay with her and not watch her fall apart like this.

I rose, determination clenching my jaw so tightly my teeth ached, ... and passed the cross, going to the dangerous side ... toward her.


A/N: Ouch. Tough chapter. geophf's analysis available at twilight-dad-dot-blogspot-dot-com /2012 /12 /msr-ch-63-show-or-tell .html; but, as always, please read my critique of criticism and analyses first at twilight-dad-dot-blogspot-dot-com /2012 /12 /on-criticism-and-analyses .html

We are now twelve chapters into one day of the girl's life, and she hasn't even made it back for a (late) lunch yet. She's brushed Rosalie's hair, learned signs, fought, asked questions, been violated, learn what her hope is, become an equal, and now this. How much more can she take before she ... breaks? And Rosalie just keeps pushing.

Uh, oh. As Rosalie says, there is, indeed, a storm coming.