FML Contest Entry
Title: All the Right Reasons
Pen name: Raven Jadewolfe
Characters: Rosalie Hale/Royce King/Emmett McCarty
Disclaimer: I own nothing copyrighted whatsoever, nor do I gain any profit from my work, monetary or otherwise.
Beta'd by PrincessBriarRose
Voting is now open! http://www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/2187120/#
I check my watch again. Five minutes. He hasn't said a word in five fucking minutes. What the fuck? Shouldn't he have said something by now?
Fuck it, I'm tired of waiting. I uncross my arms and walk over to him.
"Well, aren't you going to say anything?" my voice rings out in the empty classroom, "Or do I have to explain it a second time?"
"How did you expect me to react to something like this Rose?" he seethes, glaring out into the gloom that is typical of Forks, "Do I look like the guy who knocks up the Homecoming queen and then passes up a scholarship at Princeton to marry the bitch when she didn't have sense enough to not get pregnant?"
I shake my head slowly, fighting to keep control of what all of my friends call my 'legendary temper'. "I'm not the only one who was doing the deed, asshole, if you hadn't have been such a goddamn jerk about wearing a condom we wouldn't be in this situation." I fucking hate it when he gets like this, pompous prick. "Do you think I'm ready to be a mother, for fucks sake? I haven't even graduated high school yet! I have my entire senior year to finish still! But it's the price we pay, and you had better get used to it because I'm not getting rid of it."
"So what do you want me to do then? Tell my parents that I can't go to college now because I'm going to be a father in six months?" He lets out a dark, humorless chuckle, "I don't fucking think so. And don't even think I'm going to pay child support for that thing, if it is even mine."
His face is a visceral mask as he turns to glare at me, "That's what this is about, isn't it? You let me get you pregnant so you could get your filthy hands on my family's money! My mother was right about you, you're nothing but a gold-digging whore!"
I feel a sharp pain in my palms and I realize that I've buried my nails so deep into the flesh that tiny pools of blood have begun to form around the nails. "I didn't fucking do this on purpose Royce! Like you would ever be mature enough to be a father to a goldfish let alone a real human being! And for your information, I never gave a damn about your money! All I ever wanted was you! For us to be happy together!"
Traitorous tears begin blurring my vision as they finally bubble over and cascade down my face.
He throws his head back and a cold laugh erupts from him, "Cry me a river Rosalie. It's not like we were going to stay together after we graduated anyways, you knew that. Unless you managed to scrap together enough money to go to some two-bit college close to where I'd be living? I highly doubt that. Besides I heard that the girls at Princeton are more than willing to give the freshman test rides. I'm trading in this backwater town with its shitty school for a better town and a better school, might as well upgrade what climbs into my bed while I'm at it."
I feel the strength in my legs abandon me and I sink to my knees. My torso slumps forward and my face joins my knees on the worn linoleum. "Why are you doing this to me? You said I was the only one...that you loved me more than your own life...I thought we were forever..."
I see a flash of silver just before it collides with the cheek that isn't pressed to the floor, "Yeah, yeah, that's what everyone says when they want something from you. There's a quarter, call someone who cares about what you think. Maybe that fatso, you know, the one who follows you around like a trained pig. What was his name again? Oh yeah, Emmett McCarty. He'd probably be happy to say that he's the father. Hell, for all I know, he is, the way you and him hide out together all the time."
A bright jolt of fury courses through me and I grab the quarter, "Fuck you Royce! He's my best friend and has been since we were three years old! I can't fucking believe you're jealous of him! At least he would have the balls to stay with any girl he got pregnant instead of running away like a fucking coward! I warn you now Royce King, you say another motherfucking bad word about this baby and I will ruin you if it's the last thing I do!"
He rolls his eyes as I stumble to my feet, stupid fucking heels. "Like anyone is going to believe anything that comes out of your mouth Rose. You're a Hale Rosalie, so let's face it, you're a whore, just like your mommy dearest. The only thing any of the women in your family have been good at is being on their back, legs high in the air. The only difference between you and your mother is that your mom does it for money and you do it for free."
I muster every bit of strength I have and hurl the silver coin at him. I can't help but feel a little smug when it smacks him in his perfectly sculpted nose. He wails in pain and doubles over, "You broke my nose, you bitch! You fucking ruined a fifty-thousand dollar nose job!"
Resisting a snort, I shrug and pull out my best bitch face as I saunter up to him, "Please, the coke you put up it every damn day has done more damage to it than I could ever hope to. Your little tirade did enlighten me to something though--there is no way in hell you should ever be a father," I punctuate the word 'father' by swiftly bring my knee up, thanking my years of cheer-leading as it slams into his nether regions with enough force to momentarily bring both of his feet off the ground.
It's easy to push him off-kilter as I knock him back and head for the door. I keep my pace slow and steady as I walk out. That motherfucker isn't going to have the satisfaction of seeing me run.
He doesn't follow as I make my way down the dimly lit corridors that are our world in the daylight hours.
Stupid fucking high school.
I'd bet everyone that treks through its halls will know about the break up before the bell rings for first period tomorrow. It might even make the front page of the dumbass school newspaper. I can see the headlines now 'Head Cheerleader and All-State Quarterback/Princeton Hopeful Move to Splitsville'. Of course knowing the geeks that run it, they'll probably throw in that I'm having Bigfoot's baby or joined a vampire cult or some shit. Fucking amateurs.
An angry roar resounds through the empty corridors, causing the hairs on my arms to stand on end. I know it's Royce, but there is something in the sound that scares the shit out of me. I give up on my resolute pace and peel my shoes off before breaking into a sprint. Something in the back of my mind warns me that if I don't get out of here fast, this isn't going to end well. Luckily I've been going to this place for three years, otherwise who knows how long I could get lost trying to navigate the campus in the dark?
A shadow passes close by and I duck into the science building, hoping that whoever it is can't hear the furious pounding of my heart as it threatens to break its way out of my chest. Two voices end up accompanying the shadow.
I blow out a sigh of relief. It's just the night janitors coming back from their break.
After throwing open the heavy metal doors and taking a deep breath of the cool May air, I quickly make my way across the lot. As I cross the distance, I fish the keys to my cherry red BMW M3 convertible out of my pocket. The car is my pride and joy.
Emmett and I found it at a junkyard in Port Angeles when we were fifteen. The thing had been totaled by the insurance company and the owner junked it. I could have strangled the manager of the place when he wouldn't come down from the twelve-hundred dollar price tag, It wasn't worth even that much.
Two weeks later, my mother wakes me up and tells me that Emmett is at the door with my birthday present. Blurry eyed and a little hungover, I shuffled my way downstairs to find Emmett, a shit eating grin on his face as he leaned against the red car. We spent the next two years getting it running. We took it out for it's maiden voyage the day before school started this year.
And now the damn thing is refusing to start.
Fuck me running.
I try it a few more times before giving up. The clock in the dashboard tells me that it's almost 11 pm. Double fuck. I can't even get her towed home to work on until after nine am tomorrow when the garage opens up. I try to think of anyone that could come and pick me up, but they are all in Seattle tonight, partying with the Udub kids who finished their finals this week. Looks like I'm taking the bus home tonight, but I'm going to have to hurry. I grab my purse and climb out of the car while muttering a string of curses that would make a sailor blush.
The annoying beep of my car alarm is a small comfort knowing that Royce is still slinking around the grounds. Who knows what he could do to my car by the time I come back with a wrecker? My footfalls falter for a moment while my mind battles over preserving my life or my car. Cars can be rebuilt easily, lives are harder. Okay, life wins.
I pull my pathetically thin denim jacket around me a little tighter as I hustle to the steel and plexiglass shelter that is screaming to be repaired. A few cars pass by while I wait, but no one stops like they would have if the sun had been high in the sky. Everyone in Forks is your best friend until the sun goes down these days. All of those recent disappearances in Seattle have all the residents spooked into thinking that anyone out after ten pm is either a pervert, a murderer, or both. So I sit in the busted shelter and wait. Thank goodness it's right next to a street lamp or I'd be royally fucked at this point.
Ten minutes later the bus rumbles up and the doors creak open. With a loud sigh, I drag myself up the step. There are only two people aboard, the driver, a pudgy man with a kind face and an older woman with a clipboard and a face that reminds me of a Saint Bernard.
"How much does it cost to get me to the stop closest to 3119 Vera Lane?" I ask, dipping into my pocket and pulling out a five.
"Five twenty-five miss," the driver declares, his watery brown eyes glancing towards the dog faced lady.
"Shit, I've only got a five mister and my car is broke down, give a girl a hand?" I inquire, internally flinching at the note of desperation in my voice.
"Sorry dear, I can't allow you on if you can't afford the fare," the man answers, sympathy clearly written on his features. In a barely perceptible gesture, he nods in the direction of the woman, "I hope you understand, I can't allow any free rides, it's against city policy."
Shit, he's being assessed or some shit. I swallow my tears and nod my head once, "Yeah, sorry, it's just been a long day mister. Have a good night."
He mumbles an apology as I extract myself from the bus, but I don't bother listening. It's just one more round of bullshit to top off this night. I hear the brakes hiss and the engine groan as it strains to propel the behemoth forward. I let out a chuckle as I walk because that's what I'm probably going to sound like here in a couple months time when I'm the size of a baby whale.
Two miles later, right around the time I've begun swearing off stiletto heels for the rest of my life, karma decides to bite my other ass cheek, this time in the form of freezing cold rain. I hold my purse over my head in a futile attempt to stay slightly dry. In under a minute, the effort yields two results. The first is now my purse is heavier than all hell and second is everything that was stored inside of it is now ruined, including my fucking phone.
I try to distract myself from my current predicament by thinking about what my friends are probably up to about now. Alice and Jasper are no doubt with all of their theater friends, getting wasted off of absinthe and doing their damnedest to re-enact the battle of Gettysburg or some shit with plastic ball bats and rubber band guns. It's so weird that they are night and day both mentally and physically, but when they are together, it's like watching a perfectly synchronized ballet. If Jasper wasn't my cousin and Alice wasn't so goddamn cool, I'd hate them both with an unholy passion.
Then there is the other 'It' couple of Forks High School. Edward Cullen and Bella Swan. To anyone else they would seem way too dependent on each other for it to be healthy. To those whom they trust implicitly, we know better.
When Bella moved here to live with her father three years ago, it wasn't because she was a spoiled brat that her mother couldn't contain anymore, like most people thought. No, the truth was much more disturbing. What the students of Forks High didn't know about Bella Swan was how her step-dad has molested her and raped her and her mother pretty much on a daily basis until Renee shot the bastard one night when he was being particularly brutal with her daughter.
After being stable enough to be transferred, Bella ended up in the hospital where Edward's dad and Emmett's uncle worked while her mother went to prison for freeing them both from a life of torment and pain.
Edward was volunteering at the hospital the day Bella arrived and, for some reason, he was one of the few men she didn't freak out over. At Carlisle's suggestion, he took to helping her re-learn how to talk, walk, and even tutored her so she didn't get held back a grade for missing for much school. During this time, they made an unbreakable bond that only a few could ever hope to understand. It was no surprise to anyone when they announced that they were getting married in August before heading off to Dartmouth together.
I'm pulled out of my internal musings when the pale gray of my home comes into view. Despite being soaked and dead tired, I end up jogging the last few yards to my porch. I quickly unlock the door and let myself into the dark space inside. For the first time I'm glad that my mom is working the night shift at the bar, this way she will never know how late I was out.
I trudge up the stairs to my room, not caring about the water dripping onto the faded tan carpet. The shit could just a good cleaning anyways. Once I get there, I dump my purse onto my desk and strip off my wet clothes as I move in the direction of my tiny bathroom. My stomach growls at being kept from food even longer, but it's easy to ignore on account I'm shivering like a motherfucker.
I don't waste time and hastily turn on the shower and jump in, my need to get warm making me forget that it takes a few seconds for the rusty old pipes to funnel hot water from the tank in the basement. When the ice cold water hits my bare skin, I let out a yelp and nearly fall on my ass trying to escape it. The water slowly warms as I right myself and stick my head under the spray. Instantly I start to relax as my knotted muscles are infused with new life under the water. I keep a mental note of how long I've been in and am careful to get my hair and body squeaky clean before the steamy water begins to wane and be replaced once again by its frigid counterpart.
With a practiced hand, I wrap my blonde locks up into one towel and my body in another. I deliberately ignore the mirror over the sink as I brush my teeth, already knowing that I look like hell. I don't need another reminder of how my day has been. I give the mirror the middle finger and shuffle back into my room, intent on finding the most comfortable set of pajamas I own and smothering myself in them.
Swollen by the humidity hanging in the air like a wool blanket, the drawers of the cheap ass pine dresser squeak and protest as I fight them open to retrieve one of Emmett's old track shirts and a pair of Bella's yoga pants that she gave me after discovering they were too long for her petite 5' 4" frame. I've always hated being a charity case, but luckily my friends never made me feel like one. It's because of them I have as many nice things as I do. It's also because of them that I didn't ditch this place a long time ago and hitchhike my way across the country so I didn't have to deal with the stigma of being a Hale any more.
Suddenly a thunderclap resounds in the sky and my room goes dark. "Fucking ancient ass power lines," I grumble to no one in particular and feel my way across the room to where I unceremoniously dropped my bag earlier.
Once I have the wet fabric in hand, I shove my hand in and feel around until I find the mini flashlight Jasper had bought me for my birthday a few weeks ago. The stupid thing was shaped like a cucumber. He thought it was cute, I smacked him upside the head with it to prove otherwise. I'd forgotten to take it out of my purse, luckily.
I push the button, relieved instantly when a broad white beam bursts from it. A gurgling sound erupts from my abdomen and I give my bed a wistful glance before conceding defeat and trekking down to the darkened kitchen in search of sustenance.
Utilizing the now glowing cucumber, it takes no time for me to throw together a ham salad sandwich and snatch the last snack bag of Doritos. A second perusal of the fridge yields a bottle of orange soda, which I gladly swipe before toting my dinner upstairs.
Half and hour and a full belly later, I'm drifting in and out of consciousness when I hear mom stumble over something in the kitchen as she tries to sneak in.
Fuck, she must have gotten drunk with one of the regulars again.
"She'd better have all her fucking clothes on this time," I growl under my breath as I throw the faded comforter off and grudgingly leave the toasty warm cocoon of my bed.
Not bothering to turn the flashlight on, I grip it like a club as I pad to the top of the stairs. "Mom, you need any help?" Please oh please tell me you're just going to sleep on the couch. I hear something in the living room get bumped, most likely the coffee table. "Mom?"
When she doesn't answer, I make yet another trip down the steps and go into the living room. My eyes focus on the couch, expecting her sleeping form to be draped over it, but it's empty. I take one step, then another. "Mom, where are you? The power is out so I can't turn on the lights, stop with the shit and come out where I can see you."
Lightning brightens the room for a few seconds and just as it fades, I spot something standing by the fireplace. "Shit!" I squeak and scramble to turn the cucumber on while aiming it towards the corner. The light reveals nothing, but the hairs on my arms prickle up and I get the feeling that I'm being watched.
Another streak of bright light and something crashes into me while I'm temporarily blinded. My left elbow screams in agony as it violently connects with the wall. My head hits the floor with a hollow knock and vivid colors bloom across my vision, disorienting me further until I feel cold hands clamp down on my throat.
"You're ruining everything, you fucking bitch," Royce snarls and my nostrils are assaulted with the sharp smell of liquor, "How could you do this to me?"
His hands tighten on my skin and I swing the flashlight wildly, trying to get free. I'm close to passing out when I finally connect with something that makes his grip loosen enough for me to wriggle out from under him.
"Get the fuck out my house Royce," I manage to choke out while trying to ignore the feeling that is strangely akin to glass shards being ground into my throat.
"Not until I'm satisfied that your little bastard there isn't ever going to be part of this world," he declares and I hear him move too late. His boot slams into my stomach, driving me into the wall and forcing the air out of my lungs.
There is no time to recover before the second, third, and forth kicks follow. My lungs burn like I'm inhaling acid as I fight for just enough air to keep conscious.
"Stop," I gasp, only to be answered with something infinitely harder smashing into me. This time it feels like I'm being snapped in half under the series of blows. Only once does he hold it high enough for me to be able to discern the instrument. It's a wooden bat. Another hot stream of pain floods me and somewhere in my mind it registers that my pants are wet. Shit, now I've gone and pissed myself. Wait. No. He can't be.
I can't contain my cry of agony this time as the bat shatters my left arm. He's killing my baby, and me right along with it. "No," I moan aloud at the realization.
Not my baby.
I open my eyes in time to see him slip on the wood floor. I reflexively reach out for the bat as he collapses onto the floor. "Not my baby," I repeat out loud and swing as hard as I can, the instinctive urge to protect my child overtaking my brain. It hits his knee with a satisfying crack.
"Fuck!" he bellows and clutches the broken limb. I don't wait for him to recover. I draw back and let loose a barrage of blows, reveling in his cries.
Reality comes back in a big way when as I'm giggling maniacally at the squishing sounds I'm getting with every strike when the lights suddenly come to life and I'm left staring down at the mass of blood and flesh that used to be Royce King.
"Oh fuck," I whisper, my good hand immediately dropping the bat. I barely register it hitting the floor as I take in the crimson streaks splashed across the walls, along the floor, all over me.
I happen to glance down at my arm and my stomach churns at the bumps and bruises confirming that without a shadow of a doubt, the limb is broken. Instead of losing control and panicking, I feel my body turn and walk slowly up the stairs, to the bathroom. With slow, almost robotic movements, I remove my bloodied attire, mindful not to jostle my damaged limb, and climb into the shower again. After battling a bout of dizziness that washes over me, I then carefully scrub every inch of my body. A part of me is relieved when I run the wash cloth between my legs and no blood is on it. At least my baby is still safe.
When the water finally runs clear again, I get out, clumsily dry off with one hand, and dress in a clean pair of jeans, a long sleeve t-shirt, and a pair of boots. After stuffing my arm into a sling my mom had acquired after spending last New Year's in the emergency room, I comb my hair out and pull it into a loose pony tail before picking up the phone and dialing a number that I've had memorized since preschool. It only takes two rings before I get a groggy "Hello?"
That's when the tears make an appearance. "Emmett, I need help. I'm in big trouble."
"Where are you?" he asks in a much clearer tenor. I can hear the sounds of fabric moving against itself, he must be getting dressed.
"I'm at home," I answer truthfully, "I can't stay here Emmett—Royce, he--"
"If he touched you, I'm going to kill him!" my savior snarls menacingly.
I snap my eyes closed at the onslaught of images of the carnage downstairs. "You don't have to worry about that."
"What? Erm, nevermind, I don't need to know," he responds and the roar of his truck's engine comes out of the receiver, "Fill me in after I come and get you. Pack a bag, you're staying with me tonight Rosie, I don't give a shit what your mom says."
I stretch the phone cord as far as I can and get the cordless off the charger, "Don't hang up on me Emmett, I'm so fucking scared right now."
"Just go upstairs and pack your stuff sweetheart," Emmett instructs in a soothing tone while I dig out a shoe box stuffed with the money I had been saving for college, "I'll be there in just a few minutes, just hang on a little longer." I shove the box into my backpack and move on to another hidden cache in my mom's room before coming back for my clothes and other necessities.
He continues murmuring reassuring words in my ear as I stuff as many clothes as I am able into an old military duffel bag that one of my mother's numerous boyfriends had given me when I was ten, then I proceed to pull all of the pictures of my friends from the mirror hanging on my closet door and putting them in as well. I know I can never come back after this or I'd be sent to prison for the rest of my life. My child would most likely end up in foster care or adopted by some family I know I'd hate if I ever met face to face.
I'm dragging my bags down the stairs when the front door flies open and is filled with the massive bear of a man that is Emmett McCarty. "What the hell happened?" he asks, seemingly unruffled by the horror movie worthy scene before him, "Are you hurt?"
I give him a curt nod and hand him my duffel, "He was trying to kill me and my baby Emmett. I managed to get the bat off of him and once I started swinging, I couldn't stop. I'll understand if you take me straight to the police station and then walk away forever."
He swings the bag over one shoulder and pulls me to him with his free arm, "Rosalie Lillian Hale, I have loved you since the day I first laid eyes on you when aunt Esme babysat me, you, Eddie, Ali, and Jazz for the first time, there is no way in hell I'm going to give up on that now." I'm shocked as shit when he suddenly presses his lips to mine before giving me a squeeze and tugging me towards the door, "We'd better get going."
A thought comes to me and I pull out of his arms, "Hold on, I have and idea. I'll be right out, promise."
His piercing blue eyes are filled with concern, but he nods and disappears into the night. I run to the kitchen and over to the ancient gas stove that I was always stuck trying to cook dinner on. With a few grunts, I shift the appliance enough to reach the gas line that I'd had to seal with duct tape last week. With trembling fingers, I strip the metal line of tape and stand up to shove the stove back in place.
I search the kitchen until I find one of the old magazines that my mother refuses to throw away. I fold it in half long ways and shove it into the toaster.
"Please don't blow up until I'm long gone," I whisper and shove down the mechanism.
I run like hell out of the house and dive into the passenger side of Emmett's truck, "Drive!" I scream while pulling the door closed behind me.
He complies without question, throwing the vehicle in reverse and skidding out of the driveway. I turn to watch out of the back window as he flies down the blacktop.
"What are you looking for?" Emmett inquires after a few minutes of driving. He reaches out for the hand closest to him and grasps it lightly, "Royce won't be following Rose. He can't hurt you anymore. I'll take care of you and your baby for as long as you'll have me."
"I know Em, I'm just making sure," I qualify just as a bright fireball lights up the night sky.
I finally shift around and rest my head against his huge arm, "I don't know where to go. I'm a murderer now Em," my hands finds its way to my still flat stomach, "I had to kill him to save myself and my baby."
"I know angel, you did it for all the right reasons," he murmurs and wraps his arm around me. My head falls against his chest and for some reason, all I feel is safe and loved.
Twelve hours later, I'm resting on a semi comfortable bed in an out of the way motel while Emmett showers when the show I'm watching is cut off by a news bulletin.
"At approximately 2:58 this morning, the town of Forks was shaken awake as the home of Charlene Hale was engulfed in a fire thought to be cause by a gas leak," the reporter drones on in a bored tone, "Ms. Hale was not home at the time, but an unidentified body was recovered from the ruins. An autopsy will reveal if it is the body of Rosalie Hale, who's whereabouts are still unaccounted for at this time. We will bring you more information as it becomes available."
Prompt: Today, my boyfriend broke up with me. I cried and told him that I loved him. He gave me a quarter and told me to call someone who cared. I threw the quarter in his face and ran. I waited for the bus, but when I got on, I realized I was 25cents short of the fare. I walked home in the rain. FML