I Write Sins, Not Tragedies
Chapter Fourteen: Stacks of Boxes
"Mary?" An angelic voice rang through my ears; it was echoed and it gave me a little wince, although it was concerning. "Mary, are you alright?" I the roughness in my throat was preventing me from using my vocabulary to answer the voice that I had now recognized as Rosalie's so I groaned in response, hoping she would get the memo.
"Oh, thank god you're awake!" I felt her cold iron grasp squeeze my hand a little too tight and I winced, this time out loud. Rosalie loosened her grip, her voice apologetic. "Oh, right, sorry."
I finally mustered the strength to open my eyes, but the light was too much, and they closed again immediately. I began to move my body which was when I really started to feel the pain shooting through the nerves in my side and spine. Rosalie forced my body to remain still, "You need to lye still, Mary."
I wanted to speak whole sentences, to spew a bunch of questions at her, but the only request I could make was a mere croak. "Water." I felt her tap my arm reassuringly followed by a swift breeze on direction, and then again the opposite way less than a second later. I only knew it was Rosalie because cold water was running over my lips and down my parched throat immediately.
"How do you feel?" She asked as she pulled the cup away and set it on the table. I finally opened my eyes to look at her.
"Tired." I answered her plainly, immediately getting to my questions. "What happened? Am I... you know... like you?"
Rosalie laughed, it still sounded like bells, and she ran her cool hand over my forehead, moving my hair from my eyes. "No, Mary. You are still human as ever."
I let out a sigh of relief, relaxing a little into the soft bed. I was somewhat positive that I was going to wake up one of them; like I had remembered Carlisle saying in the clearing, I had lost too much blood. I was about to ask Rosalie how he had managed to keep to my wishes in such a fatal outlook, but she beat me to the answer.
"It took quite a few blood transfusions and a few times sewing you back up, but Carlisle is an amazing surgeon, and very courteous to say in the lines of your wishes; when he knows them." Rosalie added the last part as if there was a wound in her. It was then that I realized that I had never spoken to her about becoming what she was.
"Rose?"
"Hmm?"
"How did you..." I wasn't exactly sure how to ask this; as I had never asked a vampire or anyone else for that matter how they had died. "I mean...what happened to you...how did you become what you are?"
Rosalie sighed, but it wasn't out of irritation or as if she had taken offense. "It was a long time ago, Mary." I had thought that that was going to be her only answer to me. I had shifted in my bed a little, and was caught by surprise when she spoke again. Her eyes were very distant; far away now.
"My parents were thoroughly middle class. My father had a stable job in a bank, something I realize now that he was smug about - he saw his prosperity as a reward for talent and hard work, rather than acknowledging the luck involved. I took it all for granted then; in my home, it was as if the Great Depression was only a troublesome rumor. Of course I saw the poor people, the ones who weren't as lucky. My father left me with the impression that they'd brought their troubles on themselves.
"It was my mother's job to keep our house - and myself and my two younger brothers - in spotless order. It was clear that I was both her first priority and her favorite. I didn't fully understand at the time, but I was always vaguely aware that my parents weren't satisfied with what they had, even if it was so much more than most. They wanted more. They had social aspirations - social climbers, I suppose you could call them. My beauty was like a gift to them. They saw so much more potential in it than I did.
"They weren't satisfied, but I was. I was thrilled to be me, to be Rosalie Hale. Pleased that men's eyes watched me everywhere I went, from the year I turned twelve. Delighted that my girlfriends sighed with envy when they touched my hair. Happy that my mother was proud of me and that my father liked to buy me pretty dresses.
"I knew what I wanted out of life, and there didn't seem to be any way that I wouldn't get exactly what I wanted. I wanted to be loved, to be adored. I wanted to have a huge, flowery wedding, where everyone in town would watch me walk down the aisle on my father's arm and think I was the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen. Admiration was like air to me, Mary. I was silly and shallow, but I was content." She smiled, amused at her own evaluation.
"My parents' influence had been such that I also wanted the material things of life. I wanted a big house with elegant furnishings that someone else would clean and a modern kitchen that someone else would cook in. As I said, shallow. Young and very shallow. And I didn't see any reason why I wouldn't get these things.
"There were a few things I wanted that were more meaningful. One thing in particular. My very closest friend was a girl named Vera. She married young, just seventeen. She married a man my parents would never have considered for me - a carpenter. A year later she had a son, a beautiful little boy with dimples and curly black hair. It was the first time I'd ever felt truly jealous of anyone else in my entire life."
She looked at me with unfathomable eyes. "It was a different time. I was the same age as you, but I was ready for it all. I yearned for my own little baby. I wanted my own house and a husband who would kiss me when he got home from work - just like Vera. Only I had a very different kind of house in mind. . . ."
"In Rochester, there was one royal family - the Kings, ironically enough. Royce King owned the bank my father worked at, and nearly every other really profitable business in town. That's how his son, Royce King the Second" - her mouth twisted around the name, it came out through her teeth - "saw me the first time. He was going to take over at the bank, and so he began overseeing the different positions. Two days later, my mother conveniently forgot to send my father's lunch to work with him. I remember being confused when she insisted that I wear my white organza and roll my hair up just to run over to the bank." Rosalie laughed without humor.
"I didn't notice Royce watching me particularly. Everyone watched me. But that night the first of the roses came. Every night of our courtship, he sent a bouquet of roses to me. My room was always overflowing with them. It got to the point that I would smell like roses when I left the house.
"Royce was handsome, too. He had lighter hair than I did, and pale blue eyes. He said my eyes were like violets, and then those started showing up alongside the roses.
"My parents approved - that's putting it mildly. This was everything they'd dreamed of. And Royce seemed to be everything I'd dreamed of. The fairy tale prince, come to make me a princess. Everything I wanted, yet it was still no more than I expected. We were engaged before I'd known him for two months.
"We didn't spend a great deal of time alone with each other. Royce told me he had many responsibilities at work, and, when we were together, he liked people to look at us, to see me on his arm. I liked that, too. There were lots of parties, dancing, and pretty dresses. When you were a King, every door was open for you, every red carpet rolled out to greet you.
"It wasn't a long engagement. Plans went ahead for the most lavish wedding. It was going to be everything I'd ever wanted. I was completely happy. When I called at Vera's, I no longer felt jealous. I pictured my fair-haired children playing on the huge lawns of the Kings' estate, and I pitied her." Rosalie broke off suddenly, clenching her teeth together. It pulled me out of her story, and I realized that the horror was not far off. There would be no happy ending, as she'd promised. I wondered if this was why she had so much more bitterness in her than the rest of them - because she'd been within reach of everything she'd wanted when her human life was cut short.
"I was at Vera's that night," Rosalie whispered. Her face was smooth as marble, and as hard. "Her little Henry really was adorable, all smiles and dimples - he was just sitting up on his own. Vera walked me to the door as I was leaving, her baby in her arms and her husband at her side, his arm around her waist. He kissed her on the cheek when he thought I wasn't looking. That bothered me. When Royce kissed me, it wasn't quite the same - not so sweet somehow. . . . I shoved that thought aside. Royce was my prince. Someday, I would be queen."
"It was dark in the streets, the lamps already on. I hadn't realized how late it was." She continued to whisper almost inaudibly. "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. . . ." She sighed, and began whispering again. "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.
"'Rose!' 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 Rose!' 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, Rose!' 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. . . ."
Rosalie looked at me suddenly, as if she'd forgotten I was there. I was sure my face was as white as hers. Unless it was green.
"I won't make you listen to the rest," she said quietly. "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. 'Rosalie Hale?'" Rosalie imitated Edward's irritated tone to perfection. "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." She laughed at herself for a moment. "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."
She was thoughtful for a moment, and I wondered if she'd forgotten my presence again. But then she smiled at me, her expression suddenly triumphant.
"You know, my record is almost as clean as Carlisle's," she told me. "Better than Esme. A thousand times better than Edward. I've never tasted human blood," she announced proudly.
She understood my puzzled expression as I hadn't really known anything about their vampire existence or what she was referring to.
"I did murder five humans," she told me in a complacent tone. "If you can really call them human . But I was very careful not to spill their blood - I knew I wouldn't be able to resist that, and I didn't want any part of them in me, you see.
"I saved Royce for last. I hoped that he would hear of his friends' deaths and understand, know what was coming for him. I hoped the fear would make the end worse for him. I think it worked. He was hiding inside a windowless room behind a door as thick as a bank vault's, guarded outside by armed men, when I caught up with him. Oops - seven murders," she corrected herself. "I forgot about his guards. They only took a second."
"I was overly theatrical. It was kind of childish, really. I wore a wedding dress I'd stolen for the occasion. He screamed when he saw me. He screamed a lot that night. Saving him for last was a good idea - it made it easier for me to control myself, to make it slower -" She broke off suddenly, and she glanced down at me. "I'm sorry," she said in a chagrined voice. "I'm frightening you, aren't I?"
I shook my head, reassuring her. I had been watching and listening with wide, amazed eyes the entire time she had been speaking to me. "I'm good with weird."
Rosalie laughed a little bit. "Well I'd suppose you are." Changing the subject Rosalie asked me. "Are you hungry, Mary? I could run down and get you something really quick, if you'd like?"
I shook my head, playing with the white sheets in my hands. "No thanks. I just don't feel like eating right now." Rosalie frowned in response, clearly dissatisfied with my lack of appetite. For some reason the look on her face made me feel really guilty. "Maybe a PB&J sandwich?"
Rosalie stood up, beaming triumphantly. "Strawberry or Grape?"
"Grape."
With that she was gone.
When my sandwich returned moments later, I had expected Rosalie to be the one bringing it to me. Instead, however, Emmett knocked on my door and entered the room, setting the sandwich down on the bedside table along with a glass of milk. As I took a bite of my meal, he took a seat in the chair Rosalie had been sitting in, not saying a word and not meeting my eyes.
By the time I was chewing the last bite of my food it was beginning to become really awkward in the room. Swallowing my last bit hard, I spoke. "So...I half expected I'd be a vampire by now."
Emmett grunted.
"Are you going to talk?" I was glaring at him now, our fight coming back into my mind. I was still mad at him, no matter whether or not he had saved my life. Again.
"Why?"
I gave an irritated, sarcastic laugh. "Gee. I don't know, maybe because you f-ing told me that you don't care about me. Oh but wait, two days before that you were 'head over heels in love' with me."
Emmett didn't say anything, just sighed.
"You need to make up your mind. Either you want me here or you don't."
"What? I can't have both." There was clear irritation in his voice when he spoke to me finally. Anger flashed in his once again yellow eyes. "You think I want the woman I love to have to spend the rest of her life living among vampires? You think I want you to have to grow old while we stay young forever? You think I want to have to introduce you as my grandmother one day?" As he spoke I could tell he was growing sad. "Is that the kind of life you think I want for you?"
I frowned. "Is that why you are so insistent on me becoming like you?"
"Well it isn't like you can have it the other way around."
"Well it isn't like you have to be an ass."
"You are the one being stubborn." Emmett pointed out. "Alice has already seen you becoming one of us; you are only making it harder by insisting on your humanity."
I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it with nothing to say. It was then that I had actually taken a good look around the room. "Emmett?"
"What?"
"What is with all the boxes?"
Emmett sighed, "We are moving, Mary. All of us."
I frowned a little, upset and guilty. "Are we moving because of what happened?"
Emmett took my hand, I pulled it away. "No, Mary! Not at all! Don't ever think that!"
I furrowed my brow, not understanding. "Then why are we leaving. You guys love it here."
"How old does Carlisle look, Mary?"
I frowned, pondering. "I don't know. Twenty-five, twenty-eight at most. Why does that matter?"
Emmett answered. "Think about it, Mary. Carlisle is pretending to be thirty-three now." My mouth made a silent 'O' in realization. Emmett continued anyway. "We have homes all over the place, it just happens when you have unlimited time on your hands, you know? So we rotate around every so often to keep up with appearances."
"That makes sense." I noted. "But where are we moving to?"
"Forks." Emmett answered. "It is a small town in Washington State. You'll like it there, I promise you, Mary." Emmett placed his hand on mine. I pulled it away, still not liking the way his touch made my heart leap out of its shell. Besides, in my current condition, that couldn't have been safe.