Crown of Thorns: The Life and Death of Rosalie Hale
A collection of one-shots about Rosalie's transformation and her life as a vampire before Forks.
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I could sense myself slipping…fading away. The overwhelming pain that encompassed every inch of my body was now reduced to a dull throb. But it too was slowly vanishing, replaced by…nothing at all. Death was looming over me. I begged death to find me quickly, trying and failing to lift my shattered arms in a futile attempt to draw it closer to me in a weak embrace.
I drew a thin, raggedy breath, shrieking in my mind at the torturous pain that ripped through my chest. I lay there in the street, nothing but a broken corpse, ashamed, humiliated, and…soiled. Roughly-laid cobble stones dug into my back, intensifying my pain to indescribable proportions. Delicate flakes of snow began to fall, soaking my shattered body, and making the rough stone beneath me slick with frost.
I’m ready, I told God, amazed at the composure of my thoughts.
“You’re going to be fine. Stay awake, Rosalie,” said God. My muscles unclenched in relief - it would be okay now. God was with me. I supposed that meant I was dead. Tranquility coursed through me - it was finally over.
He probed my injuries, searching for the extent of the damage done. Daggers of pain shot through my limbs where he touched me. If I had been able to scream, I would have done so. Death had neglected to find me once again. And if I was still alive, then the figure bending over me wasn’t God. It was…. I realized I didn’t know.
“Miss Hale, this is Dr. Carlisle Cullen. Can you hear me? Please try to stay with me. I promise you, everything will be fine.” And then, under his breath, “Who did this to her?”
A vague feeling of irritation washed over me. Who exactly had given him permission to touch me? I just wanted to be left alone to die. Here on this deserted street - this is where it would end. Why couldn’t he see that?
Besides, I hadn’t even liked Dr. Cullen and his family the one or two times I had seen them in society. They were far more beautiful than I could ever hope to be - than anybody I’d ever met could hope to be. Fierce jealously seethed within me, although my sweet façade hid my true sentiments. Thankfully, the Cullens tended not to hold company within my social circle very often.
Dr. Cullen worked over me a little while longer, sending vicious sparks of pain through me with every touch. And then - for the second time that bleak night - I finally died.
I knew I was dead, because at that moment, Dr. Cullen lifted me into his arms with amazing strength and began to run with astonishing, inhuman speed. The journey was still torturous, but as we flew through the darkened streets, I knew that there was no way that this journey actually existed in reality.
Within mere minutes, it seemed, I was being placed gently onto a soft bed in a warm, brightly lit room. Where was I? Heaven? Purgatory? Hell?
No, I was too good for Hell. I, Rosalie Hale, did not belong in a dark, godless pit. I went to church every Sunday, I never swore, and I was always unwaveringly obedient to my parents. Hell was a place for despicable, disgusting people. It was beneath me.
“Not enough time,“ said Dr. Cullen to himself. Why was he still here? I was dead - wasn‘t I? Obviously, I was delusional. Could the dead even be delusional? I was over thinking this whole ‘death’ thing.
So maybe I was in heaven then. Wishful thinking on my part. Angels - even those in the enviable forms of the Cullens - did not have cause for the worry and concern that lingered upon Carlisle’s flawless features. And if I had not been certain before, the horrific agony that slashed at every wound made me positive that heaven was not where I currently resided.
“Oh, how will I ever choose? It is not my place to decide a person‘s destiny,” muttered Dr. Cullen, barely loud enough for me to pick up on his words as he paced the length of the room. How infuriating! He was the one who got to choose whether I belonged in heaven or hell? At least I knew where I was now. It seemed I had landed in purgatory.
I must have done something right, though. The pain was slowly slipping away now, fading to a dull ache instead of the fierce blades that had presided earlier. The darkness that lapped at the edges of my vision now rimmed my consciousness, threatening to overwhelm me at any second. I was glad to follow it. I was that much closer to eternity - my happily ever after.
“I can’t let this happen,” Carlisle said suddenly, striding over to where I lay. I closed my eyes tightly. I was almost gone - now if he would just leave me as he should have done on that miserable street.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Hale,” he whispered, barely audible. Sorry for what? I wanted to scream. Icy breath blew gently on my neck; diamond-edged razors balanced delicately upon my fragile flesh. And then, the jagged cuts tore through me as my skin broke under the pressure of those unseen blades, attacking my throat, my wrists, and my ankles. Despite my injuries, I screamed - a piercing, hollow sound. My chest felt ready to crack open. Under all his pretenses, Dr. Cullen had brought me back here to harm me further. What a magnificent injustice! I kept my eyes shut and let the blood flow freely from my fresh injuries.
And then the fire began. It began as an insignificant spark and grew to a torrent of acid that coursed through my veins. The excruciating pain engulfed me, and I ceased to think of anything except the welcoming arms of death - arms which refused to hold me, though I begged for their embrace with all my heart.