So I had a human pet it seemed.

She was in fact very pretty. And smelled really good. My olfactory challenged colleagues would have called her scent strawberry or some such but I'm Rosalie Hale. I know such things only occur in nature. It was currant.

Too bad I'd likely kill her.

I'd never drank human blood in nearly 80 years, I think Carlisle and I are the only ones of our kind that can say that. I looked at her, pretty as she was and said,

"Well it seems you are my cross to bear, " Her expression, if it was possible, became even more frightened, "I will deal with your interaction with my family, if you cross me, you'll regret it."

I was stunned when she seemed to recover.

"No one asked you to come here, you may be beautiful and all, but that door works both ways, don't let it hit your ass on the way out."

I'd had about enough of Bella swan at that point, so I turned to leave.

I was nearly out the door when I saw it, really for the first time. A teeneage boy and a man in a wheelchair were beside it.

"That truck Bella," I gasped, "It's beautiful."

It may sound strange, but I'm hardly a normal girl, I knew the 1953 Ford was Bella's.

I also knew Bella had to be mine.