The slash in the summary indicates the switching of point of views. The first chunk is Rosalie's point of view, and the second is Bella.


Rosalie's Point of View.


I stared unblinking at the car magazine gripped in my cold, undead fingertips. My nails were perfectly manicured and I wanted to rip them off with my teeth. They would only grow back though, in a second flat. As a vampire, they were to help me rip flesh.

I put up a front in my mind, protectively. I pretended to be concerned about my hair, when in fact, I knew it was perfect, as everything was when you were a vampire. It disgusted me. I hated my appearance. Humans would stare at me, and I would pretend to feed on their admiration and lustful gazes, but it infuriated me.

I was flawed, as a human, as everyone else was. I had acne, and an eyebrow that was arched higher. But now, I was perfect. In the eyes of my sister though, I had always been perfect. I was her role model. I would have started to tear up, if I were able to produce tears. My body was frozen in time.

I glanced up from the magazine to look up at my husband. He was my soul mate, and if he were not here with me to keep me going, I would have requested a wolf or another vampire to kill me.

He felt my eyes on him and looked up at me. He smiled, his dimples peeking out his cheeks. He leaned over to kiss me and I melted. I pulled back when Edward cleared his throat and gave us a pointed look.

"Can you do that somewhere else?" he growled.

Emmett pouted. "But we've done it already, everywhere else," If I could blush, I would have. He grinned, "Even your room, buddy."

Edward's eyes widened and he almost had the audacity to attack Emmett. I glared at him, my cold – currently black – eyes burning him.

Edward got up in a fury and shot out the door into the woods.

Esme gave us a disappointed look, mostly to me. I craved her approval, she was the closest I had to a mother, and I wanted to cry when she had that disproving look in her eyes.

"Do you have to do that to him?" Esme asked.

Emmett snickered. "If he weren't such a sex deprived mess this wouldn't bother him."

"Emmett!" Esme scolded, appalled. "You know he can hear your every thought, and you know how it gets to him, it has nothing to do with being..." she lowered her voice, "a virgin."

Emmett laughed loudly. "He's probably the oldest virgin in history! How old is he now? Eighty-two? That's only counting vampire years though."

Suddenly, Emmett was pushed up to the wall. Edward's hand was clasped against his throat and he was growling. "Shut. Up."

I ran up to him and pulled Edward back by his unruly auburn hair. "You touch him again, and your head will be in the woods." I released him and he rubbed his neck.

"You're lucky I was taught to be nice to a lady, or you'd be six rooms over by now." Edward said.

"Enough," Esme shouted. "You are lucky your father isn't here to see this. He would be so disappointed in you three. Now, I won't tell him what happened, but I don't expect it to happen again. Do you understand?"

I didn't answer.

"I said, do you understand?" Esme asked harshly.

Edward apologized quietly and ran out the door.


I was still silent. I refused to apologize. He attacked my mate, he was asking for it. Esme sighed and turned around to go up the stairs.

"Babe, you didn't have to do that." Emmett said, but smiled nonetheless.

I kissed his cheek lightly. He was the only one who had a real insight on my mind, but he didn't have all of it. "I'm going to hunt."

"'Kay." he nodded. "Jasper!" he called. "Lets play Halo!"

I ran to the deep woods, my ears attuned to every sound. We didn't hunt humans. I couldn't do that, I would rather starve than steal another life. I crouched down and jumped to a nearby tree branch. I swung up farther and farther.

I sat on the wet branch, not caring about the designer jeans. Alice would throw a fit, but it's not like she ever allows us to wear clothes twice. However, Alice is still one of the kindest people you will meet. She donates all of the clothes to whoever will take it, and she volunteers and the Soup Kitchen every month.

I looked down towards the forest floor. A bear was coming. I leaped down a couple of branches and waited for him to come closer. I dropped in midair, the wind blew back my blonde hair, and fluttered at my clothes. I landed on top of the bear and hurried to snap his neck. I buried my teeth in it's fur and layers of skin.

The blood was warm, and sweet. It all rushed to my mouth. The itch in my throat could only be soothed by blood. Animal blood didn't make it go away completely, as human blood would, but it made it dull enough that I could focus on other tasks.

I licked the stray trail of blood on my chin. I clawed at the dirt, ripping up the ground faster than a shovel. In less than minutes, I dumped the animal corpse into the earth and covered it's body with the rich smelling soil.

I sighed and sprung up to a branch. I rested my head against the trunk and felt the sap stick to my hair. I closed my eyes and let my mind drift.

Marie put a bag of ice on my eye. She was so selfless. She was far off worse that I was, but she insisted in helping me first. She took a damp towel and wiped away the blood off of my lip and nose.

I cried as she did this. I tampered with my hair and tried to make my eyebrows symmetrical. I covered up the pimple on my forehead and the beauty mark on my chin.

Marie tilted my head towards hers. She shook her head and hugged me. She took a comb to my hair, being careful at the sore spots.

"Mother..." I started and wiped away the smudged makeup. "Mother found a husband for me, Marie."

She looked at me and nodded. "I know."

I pulled away from her chest. I grabbed the hidden gauze under our bed. I washed up her gash and wrapped the gauze around her arm. I took some makeup and covered up the bruise.

Mother knew about the beatings that Father did to us. She watched, but didn't say anything. He liked it when she watched, and if she said any discouragement she would be the one that would be slammed against the wall. She was eager to get Marie and I married, to get away from the house.

I brought Marie to the bathroom and helped her wash her hair. I combed through her rich, dark locks. She looked just like Father. She had a curved, petite nose and full lips, her bottom slightly bigger than her top. What made her distinct – even more so than me, with my violet eyes – was her one chocolate brow eye, and the other, violet, like mine.

She slipped into her nightgown, and helped me into mine. I pulled her close on our old bed. We alternated between comforting each other, but usually, she comforted me.

"You're beautiful, Rose," she whispered, as to not wake Father from his drunken stupor. "I wish I were as beautiful as you."

"You are," I insisted and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "No matter what he says."

"I could say the same for you," She heaved a sigh and snuggled into my chest. "Royce King the third," she scoffed. "What a pretentious jackass."

"He has money," I explained simply. "He has a home. I can have a good life with him." Except, how could anyone love me? I was tainted by bruises and cuts. I was hideous, something Father never let me forget. How could anyone want to marry an ugly slut?

"Except you don't love him, and you never will,"she stated. "Rose, let's flee to Pennsylvania," she begged. "Or Canada. We won't have to worry about Father or Royce."

"But what about Mother?" I asked quietly.

Marie sniffled, "I-I don't know." She ran her fingers through my hair, humming a lullaby I didn't know the name of.

Bella's Point of View.


I woke with a start, gasping for breath. My hair was sticking to my forehead, and I brushed it away. I got up and stumbled in the dark of my room. I felt around my dresser and grasped the thick black book in my hand. I grabbed the pen and flashlight that sat next to it.

The dreams were frighteningly realistic. They weren't like my other dreams, shapeless colorful blobs in erratic scenes. They were sharp, and distinct. They were like relived memories. I had a hard time remembering them hours later. I wrote them down in a journal and reread each memory every day, to keep them fresh in my mind.

He was so mean! What did I do to him? I whimpered. I was ugly, and hideous, that's what. I was fat, and no man wanted an overweight daughter.

My hands shook with anger as I stared at her. She was beautiful, but broken. She was bleeding from her forehead and I felt the need him. The blood made me want to vomit as it's rust-like smell invaded my nose.

I cried as I lightly pressed my fingertips to my ankle. I sobbed as I looked at her. Her beautiful golden hair was tangled and caked with dried, crusty red. She was turning purple and blue under her eye, her lip was cracked and bleeding.

She pulled me into a hug and rocked me back and forth. He had left us on the dusty floor and we crawled to our tiny room. We were lucky he didn't do anything worse than kicking and hitting. I kissed her cut and cuddled into her arms. I hated him.

I sobbed soundlessly, feeling as if I were that little girl. I still hadn't learned the other girl's name yet, even though I saw her beaten face almost every night. I felt the throb in my ankle and the soreness on my head from him yanking my hair.

I ducked my head into my pillow, willing the dreams not to come back. But they did.

The next night I smiled at my mom as she stood in front of the hallway mirror, fixing her hair. I laughed quietly and walked up to her. I took her hands in mine and stopped her from adjusting her bangs.

"You look fine." I soothed.

"F-Fine," she gasped. "I have to change! I can't just be fine, Bella!"

"Mom, you're a knock out. He'll love you. His jaw will be dragging across the floor." I told her.

"He's different," she smiled to herself. He wasn't though, I knew that much from how much she gushed about him. "He has a tattoo on his arm, it's really sexy," she gushed. "He could be the one."

I wanted to roll my eyes. She was always one to dive head first into things. She had said the same things about her last boyfriend. He lasted two months, which was a record. Mom was carefree. If anything she was a child at heart. I remembering have to take care of not only myself when I was younger, but also her. I still had to.

She also snapped at me, a lot, when I brought up the subject of my dad. But nevertheless, I wanted her to be happy, I really did, but there was another part of me that told myself I would end up cleaning her mess. And I couldn't help but think of my dad, and how he must be sad and lonely while my mom was doing everything.

A car pulled to a stop in front of the house and mom squealed like a teenage girl. "He's here," she grabbed her purse and adjusted her earrings. "Don't worry, we'll be quiet tonight."

I curled my lip as she laughed. "You're disgusting."

"But you love me!" she started to pull the door shut.

"Good luck!"

"Thanks!" she called over her shoulder.

I walked back to my room and curled up on my bed. Exhaustion wasn't something new with my nightmares. I pulled an old teddy bear my dad had gotten me, close to my chest. I clenched my eyes and willed myself to picture butterflies in a field instead of the beautiful girl crying bloody tears.

Thank you all for reading. : )