Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or anything else you may recognize. This story is purely for recreational purposes, yada, yada, yada. The parts in Italics are from Eclipse.

Rosalie POV

Surely you have all heard the saying " A rose by any other name would smell as sweet". Well, I am here to tell you about that saying. It is not true, you know. It would not smell as sweet. I speak from experience. I am here to tell you about my name. My true name, my given name. You all know me as Rosalie Hale McCarty Cullen, but that is not so. My true name is Megan Frieda Hale. I was born in the year 1915, on May 7th. I was happy as can be for the first eighteen years of my life. Then I got engaged to Royce King. It all went downhill from there. I was visiting my dear friend, Vera on that fateful evening.. It was dark in the streets, the lamps already on. I hadn't realized how late it was. It was cold, too. Very cold for late April. The wedding was only a week away, and I was worrying about the weather as I hurried home — I can remember that clearly. I remember every detail about that night. I clung to it so hard . . . in the beginning. I thought of nothing else. And so I remember this, when so many pleasant memories have faded away completely. . . .Yes, I was worrying about the weather. . . . I didn't want to have to move the wedding indoors. . . .

I was a few streets from my house when I heard them. A cluster of men under a broken streetlamp ,laughing too loud. Drunk. I wished I'd called my father to escort me home, but the way was so short, it seemed silly. And then he called my name.

"'Meg!' he yelled, and the others laughed stupidly.

I hadn't realized the drunks were so well dressed. It was Royce and some of his friends, sons of other rich men.

"'Here's my Meg!' Royce shouted, laughing with them, sounding just as stupid. 'You're late. We're cold, you've kept us waiting so long.'"

I'd never seen him drink before. A toast, now and then, at a party. He'd told me he didn't like

champagne. I hadn't realized that he preferred something much stronger.

He had a new friend — the friend of a friend, come up from Atlanta.

"What did I tell you, John,' Royce crowed, grabbing my arm and pulling me closer. 'Isn't she lovelier than all your Georgia peaches?'

The man named John was dark-haired and suntanned. He looked me over like I was a horse he was buying.

"'It's hard to tell,' he drawled slowly. 'She's all covered up.'

They laughed, Royce like the rest.

Suddenly, Royce ripped my jacket from my shoulders — it was a gift from him — popping the brass buttons off. They scattered all over the street.

"'Show him what you look like, Meg!' He laughed again and then he tore my hat out of my hair. The pins wrenched my hair from the roots, and I cried out in pain. They seemed to enjoy that — the sound of my pain. . . .They left me in the street, still laughing as they stumbled away. They thought I was dead. They were teasing Royce that he would have to find a new bride. He laughed and said he'd have to learn some patience first.

I waited in the road to die. It was cold, though there was so much pain that I was surprised it bothered me. It started to snow, and I wondered why I wasn't dying. I was impatient for death to come, to end the pain. It was taking so long. . . .

Carlisle found me then. He'd smelled the blood, and come to investigate. I remember being vaguely irritated as he worked over me, trying to save my life. I'd never liked Dr. Cullen or his wife and her brother — as Edward pretended to be then. It had upset me that they were all more beautiful than I was, especially that the men were. But they didn't mingle in society, so I'd only seen them once or twice.

I thought I'd died when he pulled me from the ground and ran with me — because of the speed — it felt like I was flying. I remembered being horrified that the pain didn't stop. . . .

Then I was in a bright room, and it was warm. I was slipping away, and I was grateful as the pain began to dull. But suddenly something sharp was cutting me, my throat, my wrists, my ankles. I screamed in shock, thinking he'd brought me there to hurt me more. Then fire started burning through me, and I didn't care about anything else. I begged him to kill me. When Esme and Edward returned home, I begged them to kill me, too. Carlisle sat with me. He held my hand and said that he was so sorry, promising that it would end. He told me everything, and sometimes I listened. He told me what he was, what I was becoming. I didn't believe him. He apologized each time I screamed. Edward wasn't happy. I remember hearing them discuss me. I stopped screaming sometimes. It did no good to scream.

"'What were you thinking, Carlisle?' Edward said. 'Megan Hale?"I didn't like the way he said my name, like there was something wrong with me. "'I couldn't just let her die,' Carlisle said quietly. 'It was too much — too horrible, too much waste."'I know,' Edward said, and I thought he sounded dismissive. It angered me. I didn't know then that he really could see exactly what Carlisle had seen.

"'It was too much waste. I couldn't leave her,' Carlisle repeated in a whisper.

"'Of course you couldn't,' Esme agreed.

"'People die all the time,' Edward reminded him in a hard voice. 'Don't you think she's just a little recognizable, though? The Kings will have to put up a huge search — not that anyone suspects the fiend,' he growled.

It pleased me that they seemed to know that Royce was guilty. I didn't realize that it was almost over — that I was getting stronger and that was why I was able to concentrate on what they were saying. The pain was beginning to fade from my fingertips.

"'What are we going to do with her?' Edward said disgustedly — or that's how it sounded to me, at least.

Carlisle sighed. 'That's up to her, of course. She may want to go her own way.'

I'd believed enough of what he'd told me that his words terrified me. I knew that my life was ended, and there was no going back for me. I couldn't stand the thought of being alone. . . .

The pain finally ended and they explained to me again what I was. This time I believed. I felt the thirst, my hard skin; I saw my brilliant red eyes.

"Shallow as I was, I felt better when I saw my reflection in the mirror the first time. Despite the eyes, I was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. It took some time before I began to blame the beauty for what had happened to me — for me to see the curse of it. To wish that I had been . . . well, not ugly, but normal. Like Vera. So I could have been allowed to marry someone who loved me, and have pretty babies. That's what I'd really wanted, all along. It still doesn't

seem like too much to have asked for. That is when I decided to change my name to Rosalie. Megan held to many memories, too much pain. It held the pain of hate, of humanity, of love, of death. I saw many of my friends die, grow old, live happy lives that I could never be a part of again. Then I found Emmet, and I was happy. It was the first time I had felt something for anyone since… since… you-know-what. Then he almost died. I had saved him, rushed in, held my breath, and ran him to Carlisle. He changed him, and I now am happy. I now end this entry, hoping that you are enlightened, that you will never take anything for granted again.

AN: Wow! 1,407 words! That was by far the longest thing I have written. I have recently gotten back into the Twilight spirit, having just watched Breaking Dawn Part One. I hope you all enjoy it, and that you will review. Also if you could check out some of my other stories, I would much appreciate it!