Rosalie Hale's little sister

Remembering the horrible night

I quickly grabbed a mirror and whispered "Show me Isabella Swan".

Bella was lying in bed when Rose knocked on the door and waited for Bella to answer.

"What, Alice?" Bella hissed.

"It's me." Rosalie said, opening the door so Bella could see who it was. "Can I come in?"

"Of course. Come on in." Bella told her, a little awkwardly, she wasn't close to Rose.

Bella got up and sat on the bed, leaving some space so Rose could sit beside her.

"Do you mind talking to me for a few minutes? I didn't wake you or anything, did I?" Rose asked delicately.

"No, I was awake. Sure, we can talk."

"He so rarely leaves you alone. I figured I'd better make the best of this opportunity. Please don't think I'm horribly interfering. I'm sure I've hurt your feelings enough in the past, and I don't want to do that again."

"Don't worry about it, Rosalie. My feelings are great. What is it?"

Rosalie laughed, she sounded embarrassed.

"I'm going to try to tell you why I think you should stay human — why I would stay human if I were you."

"Oh."

"Did Edward ever tell you what led to this?"

"He said it was close to what happened to me that time in Port Angeles, only no one was there to save you."

"Is that really all he told you? He didn't tell you Violet was with me the night that happened?"

"No... Was there more?" she said quietly, she didn't know I was with Rose and she probably was thinking I was raped too."

"Yes. There was more."

Rose stared out the window, trying to calm herself.

"Would you like to hear my story, Bella? It doesn't have a happy ending — but which of ours does? I guess only Violet got a happy ending. If we had happy endings, we'd all be under gravestones now."

Bella nodded, she seemed a little frightened.

"I lived in a different world than you do, Bella. My human world was a much simpler place. It was nineteen thirty-three. I was eighteen, and I was beautiful. My life was perfect. My parents were thoroughly middle class. My biological mother had died giving birth to me, and after that my father met Evelyn, Violet's mother, and she raised me since then, like I was her own daughter."

Rosalie was looking at the clouds.

"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."

Bella listened attentively to her.

"It was my mother's job to keep our house — and myself, Violet and our two younger brothers — in spotless order. It was clear that I was both my father's first priority and his favorite. I didn't fully understand at the time, but I was always vaguely aware that my father wasn't satisfied with what he had, even if it was so much more than most. He wanted more. He had social aspirations — social climber, I suppose you could call him. My beauty was like a gift to him. He saw so much more potential in it than I did."