Bitter Sweet

My name is Rosalie Hale, I am a woman. I am a vampire. I have been treated unjust and I seek my revenge.

The physical pain I had endured left me broken and dying, but to look upon me now, no visible scars remained on my beautiful body. However, the internal scars slashed across my mental state were burning. They ached for relief, and the need to spill the blood of the perpetrators of my untimely demise, was the only tonic I could envision.

Royce was cowering in the corner of the darkened room, his clothes were filthy, his face unshaven. His stench putrefied the air; he hadn't bathed in weeks. His fear of the stalker who had murdered his friends caused him to take refuge in an undisclosed location.

But no matter how hard Royce tried, he could never hide from me.

He'd hired bodyguards to stand watch over his pathetic self, but they were no match for my scorn. Their broken bodies lay in the hallway just outside his room. Their blood spilling through the cracks in the floor, pooling in a cloying mass; the coppery fragrance hummed in the air between us.

I licked my lips. Venom filled my mouth like saliva. I was not thirsty for their blood, I was not thirsty for Royce's blood, I was thirsty for their death. But I refused to taste one drop from their disgusting carcasses.

I was a Vampire, and in my humanity I had been wronged, but to drink from them would fill my own self with their poison and I would not allow them to intoxicate me with their evil.

Royce's eyes were hidden from view. He had heard the shouts as I'd snapped the neck of one of his bodyguards, the dull thump as his body hit the floor and the guttering screams as I reached into the chest of the other guard and ripped out his heart.

I wanted Royce to look at me, and to truly see me and acknowledge his wrong doing. I hoped he would feel regret for his mistakes and I needed him to feel fear. I wished it would engulf him like an ocean wave, drowning his cries for mercy, choking him, squeezing the life out of him. I longed to watch his every facial expression as reality dawned on him, and he knew for one split second before it was over, that no one was going to save him.

Just like he had watched me; his eyes wide and taking pleasure in my every whimper. I had shut down and ceased my crying, stopped myself from calling for help over and over, for help never came. Crying had brought me no salvation, it had only excited them even more.

The desire burning in his stare as he observed the sexual frenzy his friends had instigated, ripping at my clothes, tearing my hands from my body as I tried in vain to cover myself. They had held me down and one by one, they had relieved their frustrations inside of me, and he had viewed the orgy with a sneer and an erection. Masturbating and emptying him-self all over me.

I would take no sexual pleasure in Royce's death, but I would be satisfied.

I had wanted to love Royce. I had aspired to build a life with him, to hold our children and find happiness in their sweet innocence. I was no fool, I knew the attraction we had felt for each other was purely material, it was nothing like the love Vera had with her husband. They were lucky beyond their imagination, and I, Rosalie Hale, was jealous of my plain friend and her maternal fortune.

But He had removed all choices from me the night he had desecrated me.

I was grateful to Carlisle for saving me, allowing me this one last stab at revenge, for if he had not found me, my death would remain unjustified, but I also hated what I'd become. My body was now frozen and I would spend more than a lifetime as an 18 year old girl. In my human mind, this would not have been a bad thing; forever young, forever stunning, but with this infinite lifestyle I would never bear children for my body couldn't make the necessary changes that a woman made whilst assisting in the miracle of childbirth.

I was stone. I was cold and unyielding and I despised this man before me.

Royce peeped up at me from under his arm, his body was turned towards to the wall, seeking shelter from the horror which had forced its way into his sanctuary.

"Royce King" I whispered, my voice teasing him with feigned friendliness.

Believing for one moment the voice belonged to an allay he lowered his arm, and turned towards me.

The fear, then surprise turned to confusion and finally disbelief as he recognised his bride.

I had donned, with sick humour, my wedding dress. Royce had never seen it on me, for he had destroyed my life before our "big day" had dawned. But he would understand the irony.

"Rosalie?" It was a question.

I remained standing. Looming above him, looking like an angel, an exquisite white angel, dressed in a gown of intricate design, with lace and pearls adorning my figure like a second skin. I had been striking in life. I was exquisite in death.

Royce, believing his time had come and that I had appeared purely to guide him, to take his hand and walk him towards the light, turned away from the wall and towards me. I had entered this room searching for my fiancé with those exact intentions, except his passage into the heavenly world would not be gentle. I was the bringer of his fate.

I lifted my hand and examined my fingers, then frowning I cursed. "Damn it Royce! I broke a nail."

Squatting down to his level, I looked him in the eye. Sneering at him, I licked my teeth, his eyes widened in dread. "What's wrong, Baby? Aren't you happy to see me?"

The torture began.