Inspiration is Key Contest
Title/Topic: My Dead Love
Word Count: 1,028
Song Choice: White Horse by Taylor Swift
The moon sparkled as best as it could over the silent Cullen Manor, trying to shine through the thick cover of clouds that kept it hidden from view. It was a silent night – even the forest surrounding the mansion was quiet, the animals making as little noise as they could.
Rosalie Hale sat in front of her vanity, her long blonde hair shining in the dim light as she brushed it rhythmically, counting backwards from 100 the way her Mother had taught her when she was a child.
She looked beautiful, of course, she always did, but she had taken great pains with her appearance that day. Rosalie had donned a long, white gown – her wedding dress. Scarlet eyes glittering, she swept her hair up into a messy bun and fastened her veil delicately.
She stood and twirled in front of her closet mirror. "Perfect"
The past five weeks had been both painful and enjoyable for her. A stack of newspapers on her bedside table summed her recent activities up as well as one could, relating each monster's particular murder in horrifically vivid detail.
A tiny smile grazed Rosalie's face as she ran through the dark, gloomy forest towards her destination. It was her acclaimed Mona Lisa smile, the one that drove men wild with trying to guess exactly what she was smiling about. She wore it then, a testament to the fact that her thoughts would always be a mystery – to everyone except Edward, of course.
The newest Cullen flew down the deserted streets of Rochester, dress flapping behind there, eyes blazing dangerously, becoming nothing but a blur. She held her heels in her hand, unwilling to harm them. They were, after all, so very pretty…
Rosalie stopped to sniff the air warily. Yes, that was his scent, the one she had smelled on herself that first night. After making sure that there was no one following her, she began calmly strolling towards the bank.
I stand alone, in my new room, naked. Hating myself.
How could I have been so stupid? Stupid, stupid, stupid to believe in him and his promises and in my dream of fair-headed children.
Stupid, because I listened to my mother when she told me that barely knowing your fiancé was perfectly normal, that is was my duty as her daughter to marry well and help my family, even when I knew her ideas had not been implemented since the eighteenth century.
Stupid, because I am Rosalie Hale, and I was too pretty to be smart. Too pretty for my own good.
I throw something at the mirror, shattering it into a million pieces. Knowing I'm alone in the house I scream.
How could I believe in him? Just like a little girl, thinking she's a princess, pretending Prince Charming is coming and he's gonna make everything OK.
Well, guess what, Rosie? Prince Charming didn't come to fix things for you. Prince Charming came, took what he wanted, and left. Just. Like. That.
I should've known. I should've known, I should've known, I should've…
I feel disgusted by what I have become, my ruby eyes cold. "Welcome to the real world, Rosalie"
Upon reaching her destination, the tall blonde broke the door open with a flick of her hand. She followed the smell mindlessly, like one in a trance, the very image of a ghost in her pale gown.
Maybe she was a ghost, she thought morbidly. She did have all the characteristics, after all. Pale as a sheet, red eyes, white gown, scarily terrifying…
No one sees. They look at her, stare at her, at her mystifying beauty, but that's all. They don't see her – the insecure, car-loving, adventurous Rosalie. And maybe it's better that way, because not everything she does is lady-like. Not everything she does is proper, and that is just the plain truth. But they remain clueless, their attention focused on what she is on the outside. Even those that should really know better. Even those people that should know her for who she is instead of what.
Rosalie shook her head to clear her thoughts. She had been standing still for too long. And then she heard it. The sound of three hearts, beating too rapidly not to be guilty, the blood they were pumping calling to her.
Rosalie's smile turned wicked. She ascended the stairs slowly, dramatically, knowing the men in front of the vault's door would not see her shape in the darkness until it was too late. They gasped in unison, terrified and awed, frozen by the very image of her beauty. Flattered, Rosalie gave them a quick death, merely snapping their necks.
Their sweet, sweet blood spilled on the ground at her feet, but she no longer felt a craving for it. There was only one man whose blood she wanted, and then only in the metaphorical sense – she wanted none of him inside of her. Not anymore.
Rosalie kicked the thick iron door out of her way. The first thing she saw was his face. His gorgeous, devastating angel face.
"Rosie?" She smiled threateningly "Oh, God. Rosalie! Rosalie, please! I'm sorry"
Not a word passed Royce King II's ex-fiancée's lips.
The terrified man fell to his knees, groveling "Please, Rosie, have mercy on me. Please…"
She cocked her head. It was empowering, really, having the man that once thought he was too good to love you back begging for forgiveness at your feet.
"Princess, please. Rosie, you know I love you. Don't kill me. Please"
Her voice rang out through the small space like a set of silver, tinkling bells, hate evident in it "Too late, Royce. It's too fucking late"
Rosalie emerged, satisfied, six hours later, a dead man's screams ringing in her ears. She began walking once more, only this time she took a road that led her through the bad side of town, towards the looming forest.
"Hey, baby!" A young man shouted at her from a dark alley "Looking for your prince?"
"Not really" She answered cheerfully "He's dead now"
Rosalie continued her stroll leisurely, slowly leaving the city that was once her past, present and future behind.
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