Bound || A Twilight Fanfic

Chapter 6

Two years had passed since the night that should have been her last, and Rosalie had felt it. Now that she truly had forever to look forward to, it should have felt like the blink of an eye. But she couldn't help but feel like life had decided just to drag her along.

It had been two years, and she still didn't feel quite part of the family. She enjoyed Esme's company and valued Carlisle's mind, but Edward was worse than a weed that wouldn't stop growing. No matter how many times you plucked it, it simply grew back. He was irritating and insufferable, and it made Rosalie's just that much irksome.

They hadn't been able to remain in Rochester for too long due to the girl's victims, and he never failed to mention it. It was as though he would find any moment he could to bother her. And his mind-reading powers didn't help to subside his already massive ego, believing that just because could listen to the thoughts of others that he knew everything.

But he didn't know the true pain and sadness that lived deep inside Rosalie. If he had, she was sure he'd beg for a way to shut her mind off. There was dread and despair like no other, carried from years long before she had died. It was a darkness that she carried all by herself.

More often than not, Rosalie kept to herself. Other than her sporadic afternoon chats with Esme or Carlisle—often both—she truly didn't do much else. School didn't interest her yet, especially not when her only company would be Edward. She'd rather stay home and read. Morning, noon, and night, she was found with a book in her hands. There was nothing else that interested her, not even the Cadillac that had traveled with them all the way from New York.

It had lain untouched in the garage of their Tennessee home, a thick layer of dust covering the baby blue of its lacquer. As much as it tempted her to get her hands dirty and fix it up until it came roaring back to life, Rosalie found that there was no point to it. She would never need another set of wheels in her life—at least, not really.

Even when it came time to feed, Rosalie would prefer her own company. When the other three would go out together to hunt as a family, the blonde remained at the house, waiting for their return. Once they had eaten, then and only then would she go out herself. There were times when Edward would extend the hunting trips just to see how far she would push things, how long she would go while she was hungry. But if he thought she'd ever give in, he was dumber than he looked. No matter how long she had to wait, she would go on her own terms. Clearly, the boy had yet to grasp how stubborn she could be.

Much like she had done before, that morning, Rosalie had escaped into the mountains of Tennessee to find an animal to feed on. The family had just come back from a weekend-long trip that the girl had refused to join once more. Unfortunately, she still had to feed, and the moment they were back, she was gone.

It was a rather cloudy morning in the state, and the mist from the morning felt heavenly on her skin. She breathed in the smell of dew, pine, and soil, reveling in the senses she still had available to her. But as she walked deeper into the woods, the scent transformed and set off the dangerous hunger that she had.

She knew the smell well but had stayed away from its taste since her turning. Iron filled her nostrils, making her stomach rumble with a dizzying need. It blinded her to all reason, and all she desired was the crimson liquid. Rosalie had never taken a drop of blood, but she could imagine how the warm fluid would feel going down her throat, coating her mouth in a flavor unlike anything she had tasted before. She could feel her fangs sinking into soft flesh, her mouth filling with the venom that coursed through her veins. It was a feeling like no other, and it terrified her to how quickly her mind turned to a primal state.

Until she saw where the smell was coming from.

As she came upon the scene before her, all need for the taste of blood vanished, replaced by the need to save the boy she had come upon. There, in the middle of the woods, a man who looked shockingly similar to Henry, Vera's son, was losing a fight with a black bear. He was on the ground, covered in slashes and bites, blood clinging onto his skin like it was meant to be there. And even as the bear towered over him, claiming his life as its own, the boy kept laughing and taunting it. It seemed if he was going to go down, he'd be doing it on his own terms.