Fiction: The Breaking Of A Human Being #1
Title: The Breaking Of A Human Being
Chapter: One
Author: fadedpresence
Fandom: Twilight
Characters/Pairing: Rosalie Hale, Edward/Rosalie (very slightly), Rosalie/Emmett (eventually)
Rating: PG-13 (some violence)
Warnings: Spoilers from Eclipse (if you don't know Rosalie's backstory already)
Word Count: 2,600 approx.
Summary: April, 1933. Rosalie Hale is engaged to Royce King, wealthy heir to bank of Rochester, New York. On her way home one evening, Rosalie is assaulted by a drunken Royce and his friends. Left for dead, she is saved by Dr. Carlisle Cullen, who takes her home to revive her. When Rosalie awakes, she is something else entirely. Desperately trying to adjust, there's just one thing Rosalie wants. Revenge.
Notes: I do not own the characters, obviously. All characters copyrighted to Stephenie Meyer. Some information on Rosalie Hale has been taken from Eclipse and also some from The Twilight Lexicon. Everything else, I've made up. I've tried to make everything flow chronologically and accurately, but I apologise for any errors.
Chapter One
April 12th, 1933
Rochester, New York
The soft tinkling of china in mother’s sitting room told me she had guests. I swallowed, careful not to breathe too loudly as I peered around the white walls of the hallway. Mother had conveniently forgotten to inform me of our guests, and for good reason it seemed. The men were clad in dark brown business suits, a bespectacled man fingering through a pile of paper. Mother sat while the men stood, her doll-like hands nursing a tea-cup and saucer, fine lace around her wrists as she sat poised on the edge of her favourite armchair. I noticed two untouched tea cups, the men seemingly uninterested in such trivial matters as tea.
“Richard is still at the bank, we expect him at six,” mother spoke, her voice cool and collected though I knew she was screaming inside. It was a masked dismissal, a plea for the men to leave and come back later. I thought it unjust that my mother was to deal with my fathers financial affairs, when she in fact had no idea about such things. I was also willing to bet she had no idea about father’s other indulgences.
“With all due respect, madam,” said the man with the spectacles, “We’d like to go over these statements with you. We find that certain figures… just do not add up.”
Mother’s lips were now pursed together, a heavy look of disapproval about her face. She carefully set her china cup down and smoothed out her dress.
“My children are in the house, gentlemen,” she warned, her voice trimmed. “If you don’t mind?”
“Of course,” the other man nodded, adjusting his coat pocket in anxious habit. Mother nodded and got up elegantly from her chair. I quickly took the chance to move backwards, making sure I was hidden from her sight. With a soft click, I heard the sitting room door close.
Carefully, I tiptoed closer and set my palm against the wooden door.
I knew it wasn’t polite to eavesdrop, especially on confidential matters, but I found my curiosity too much to bear. My ears strained hard enough to hear catches of words and phrases, namely those being ‘debt’ and ‘overdrew’. I felt my eyes close over involuntarily, my lashes brushing against my cheeks. I drew in a long breath, silent enough to keep hidden yet loud enough to stop myself from crying. It had been quite some time since I cried, and I wasn’t about to start again over one more of father’s mistakes.
Besides, I would be free of this household and its problems in less than one week. I was soon to be Mrs. Royce King, a woman with no need to worry about finances and overdrawn accounts. I would be free.
Like a ghost, I disappeared from the fringes of the sitting room, catching a quick glance out the hallway’s end window. The early sunset and washy grey clouds were enough to tell me tonight would be quite cold. I unhooked my best jacket from the wall, a gift that Royce had dropped by last week. It was considerably more elegant than the other jackets draped beside it.
My fingers nimbly did up the last brass button and I evened my hair around my shoulders, the deep blond curls framing my face perfectly. Mother had said on more than one occasion that my face was this family’s greatest asset, and I took pride in believing her words. My eyes were heavily lashed, my nose faultless and my lips perfectly bowed. A girl like me was destined for greater things, greater people.
As I surveyed myself in the small framed mirror, something behind me, in the background, caught my eye: someone much smaller than I was, but equally as blond.
“Rose?” said Thomas, his eyes growing larger as I turned to face him. I set my lips together, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. I adored my two younger brothers, that was a fact, but they could also be a nuisance when a girl was trying to go out.
“I’m going to Vera’s,” I said hotly, adjusting the coat around my shoulders. “I’ll be back later tonight. No need to tell father to escort me home, I’ll be fine. I won’t be late.”
“Where’s mamma?”
“She’s speaking to some men in the sitting room, she won’t be much longer.”
“Why must you go now?”
“I simply must,” I snapped, grabbing my purse. “Go and find your brother. Father will be home soon and you know how he isn’t fond of you wandering about the house when you’re not being looked after.”
With that, I took one last look in the mirror and walked out the door. The air wasn’t too cool just yet, but I could smell the chill on the horizon. The voices of the two men breezed outside from the open sitting room window, mother’s voice quavering at something I couldn’t hear. I could swear I heard the sound of a china mug crashing to the ground.
Briskly, and with a smile upon my face, I began the walk to Vera’s.
--
The fire burned onwards, never ceasing through the course of the night. Vera’s husband, Nathaniel, sat in a tall-backed armchair with a pipe in his hands, face slightly whiskered and smelling faintly of rum. He was pleasant as he told us of his day, sinking back into his chair with a content look upon his face. In the past I had wanted this, a warm fire and a cozy living room with a husband telling me stories… but as I looked around now and saw mismatched furniture and worn curtains, I pitied Vera.
Her son, Henry, sat crossed legged in front of the fire, wooden toy in his young hands and dark curls atop his head. I smiled, thinking of the children I’d soon have, running about a large green lawn with Royce’s hair and my eyes. My children would never have to do with out, my children would never have to play with worn wooden toys.
My fingers held tight to the mug I held in my hands, while Vera’s voice drifted like silk over my own thoughts. It occurred to me that I hadn’t heard a word she was saying.
“What time is it?” I burbled, glancing around for any sort of timepiece.
Nathaniel fished inside his pocket, glancing quickly at a tarnished silver pocket watch.
“It’s almost nine.”
“I must be going,” I said hurriedly, setting down the mug and getting up briskly. Vera followed suit, picking up Henry in her arms and following me to the door. Nathanial joined the two of them, a perfect family bidding me goodbye. “Thank you both for your hospitality.”
“Nonsense, Rose,” Vera smiled, wound in Nathaniel’s arms. “You’re welcome here anytime, even when you become one of the King’s.”
There was a side to her voice I didn’t like, something about the way she said Royce’s surname. She only smiled though, her warm eyes just the same as they had been when we were children.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like Nathaniel to walk you home?” she asked, her eyes pooling into concern. I laughed shakily at her offer, what would my fiancée think? Such casual gestures would not go down well with a family like the Kings.
“No, I’ll be alright,” I told them both. “But thank you.”
“You could call on your father?” Nathaniel suggested.
I shook my head. “It’s a short walk. I need the air.”
I glanced around to get a look at the night sky, much darker than when I had left my home. As I turned back to bid goodnight to my hosts, Nathanial was placing a quiet kiss upon Vera’s cheek, his eyes closed as he did so. I had stumbled upon a lover’s moment, making me almost turn around again, though I could not tear my eyes away. The two were completely and utterly in love. It was something Royce and I didn’t have, even with all his money.
Something like anger, jealousy, began to boil in my stomach, though it had no reason to. Their son, Henry, simply gurgled and the two broke away, smiling at me as if I’d not seen a thing.
“Well,” I said, stumbling over just the one word. “Goodnight.”
Vera opened her mouth to say something, but I had already turned away. I was suddenly in a hurry to get out of this part of the neighborhood, away from the dank streets that surprisingly held so much happiness. My boots clicked against the pavement, my steps hurried while my own arms curled around my body to give warmth. It was cold outside, so cold white puffs of air blew from my nostrils and out my mouth.
The streetlamps burned brightly, illuminating the small circles on pavement underneath. I began to count each one as I walked, to take my mind off the cool wind that whipped around my ankles and hands. I didn’t want to have the wedding indoors, that would be completely boring and confining. My guests would be unhappy, breathing the same air and-
I heard laughter, male laughter. I paused, looking around for the source.
Up ahead, a streetlamp had been broken. I could see the shards of glass littering the pavement, shining like small pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. There, beneath the broken lamp, were the shadows of five or six young men. They were laughing raucously, drunk no doubt, howling to the moon and cat-calling people in the distance. I was breathless, trying not to drawn attention to myself when they saw me. I noticed that the young men were finely dressed, and one had light blond hair…
“Rose!” called Royce, his voice almost breaking with the sound. The others laughed, one slumping against the lamp post until he was on the ground. They all broke out in laughter again.
I began to back away, but Royce had already caught up to me with hands outstretched.
“Here’s my Rose,” he called to the others, the sour smell of alcohol wafting from his lips. “You’re late. We’re cold, you’ve kept us waiting so long.”
A small prick of fear emerged in the pit of my stomach, swirling around until I felt quite ill. Something told me Royce wasn’t about to escort me home.
Then, another young man emerged from the shadows. He was taller than Royce, and a lot darker in colour. He was suntanned, with dark hair that fringed around his forehead and dusted over his eyes.
“What did I tell you, John?” Royce called, entertaining the whole bunch. He grabbed my arm, tighter now and led me closer to the group and the young man named John. “Isn’t she lovelier than all your Georgia peaches?”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, something inside me wanting to break free and call for help. I swallowed, mustering all the courage I had inside. I’d be fine. This was Royce after all, my fiancée. He’d never hurt me.
“It’s hard to tell,” said John, bringing a finger to his lips and smirking. “She’s all covered up.”
The men broke out in laughter again, my courageous mask breaking down along with it.
Royce looked at me, slyly, and then with a quick movement ripped the jacket from my shoulders. I gasped as the heavy material pulled apart my arms and scattered its tiny brass beads all about the street. It fell to the ground, all ripped fabric and broken seams. My shoulders felt strangely exposed, though I had worn a dress beneath the jacket.
“Show him what you look like, Rose,” Royce cried. The sound of his voice brought tears to my eyes, though I desperately tried to fight them back. I would not break down in front of these men, I would keep my dignity with any chance I had.
Royce’s fingers found the brim of the hat I wore, wrenching it from my head. The pins pulled outwards with scrapes and snags, tearing out of my hair ruthlessly. I cried out in pain, causing their laughter to grow louder. It occurred to me that they enjoyed the sound of my pain…
Royce threw my hat to John, who threw it on the ground with a deeper laugh than the rest. The young man who had set himself against the lamppost crawled up, setting himself upright again. His eyes took a dark look about them as he stumbled towards John and Royce, face hungry as he surveyed my form. I was crying, trying to wriggle from Royce’s grip. He only held tighter.
“Now, Rose,” he urged, voice deadly. “If you’re to be my wife, you have to play nice around my friends.”
“Let me go, you-”
Royce slapped me, hard. My face recoiled from the blow, stinging as I bit my lip and fought the pain. The tears flowed freely down my cheeks, though I made no sound. It would only encourage them if I were to be loud.
“Get her on the ground, she’ll find it harder to struggle that way,” John said, smirking. He rallied the other young men up with quick gestures of his arms, motioning for them to join his side. I opened my mouth to scream, to call out to the neighbouring households, but Royce used his other hand to force my mouth closed. He squeezed my jaw tightly, face inches away from mine and near enough that I could taste what he’d drank.
“You’ll behave.”
“And take her clothes off, too.”
--
“I think she’s dead,” a distant voice laughed. “She’s a mess…”
“You’ll have to find yourself a new bride, King.”
“I’ll have to learn some patience first,” Royce answered, laughing as the voices grew distant.
My head swam, heavy and languid like I was underwater. I was frozen, or so I felt it. My skin was bare, all over, covered only by the scraps of fabric that had been my dress earlier this evening. I couldn’t see much, and I suspected my vision was slowly slipping away, swirling down a plug hole, into an oblivion that was death. If I was dying, I thought, was there supposed to be this much pain?
I couldn’t feel my legs, or my arms… or any part of me for that matter. I could only feel the cold, feel the pain. The street was quiet, though if there had been any sound I wasn’t sure my ears were working enough to hear it anyway.
So this is how I was to die - with nobody to hold my hand, or nobody to say a prayer. In a silent corner of my mind, I wondered how I was going to be found.
It was then I heard footsteps, distant and echoing. A shadow loomed above me, though it didn’t seem hostile. With a sleek movement, it grew closer and I felt something cooler press atop my forehead. My vision stirred, and I found myself looking at a familiar man… a man with silky blonde hair and a chiseled face. A man more beautiful than he ought to be.
Dr. Cullen poked and prodded at my body, gentle and not ill-intentioned.
“Live,” he was saying quietly. “Live.”
If I were able, I’d tell him to leave me alone… but as the thought crossed my mind, I felt my body moving.
The pain seared all over and I cried out. The world seemed far more off than it was. I was trapped between waking and sleeping, with no way to get out. Then, I was moving at a speed so fast I could only believe I had finally come to my death.
I was aching all over still, and a hysterical part of my mind wondered ‘what if this was it’.
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Chapter Two
Note: Comments are most appreciated. I've spent quite some time on this story, and I'd love to know what you thought of it.