CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The light that streamed through the window was warm and gentle, tingling Rosalie's skin just enough to make it glow. She both loved and loathed that feeling. In one instant, the heat that the light could bring to her skin felt like beautiful freedom and simultaneously like a threat. Yet with the curtains pulled wide open, Rosalie let her eyes close as she tipped her head back, letting the yellow rays bathe her skin.

The largest room in the vast townhouse Carlisle had newly acquired sat within the attic, looking out across a wide, green park that expanded behind the garden. Rosalie called that room her own. It was gorgeous, with sofas draped in a soft lace pattern and walls a soft pastel pink. The carpets were deep and a bed spanned across the large, square windows that hung out over the roof like a balcony. In the past week, she had spent hours, curled up under blankets, watching the sun bleed into the autumn rain, the water drops like sweet music against the glass. There was an unending sense of tranquillity in that room and to her utter surprise, Rosalie loved that house in Ithaca.

She loved the openness, despite being surrounded by suburbia. On days when the sun persevered despite winter's growing- because so far from Forks, the rain was less persistent- Rosalie could stay by her window, looking out upon the people in the park, watching their stories as if they were her own. On days when her curtains stayed open, Rosalie could let herself shine, no matter how she'd learned to hate it.

There were people there, that she could look upon and never see again. A part of her liked to walk through the streets and smile and strut, and see them watch and stare and gape. Yet there was anonymity to be found in the city. It was so different to Forks.

Sometimes, when the rain would come and Rosalie was reminded of Forks, she would let herself think of Violet. Of her infectious smile, her liquid laugh falling from lips that tasted like wine. They'd encouraged her addiction, and at night, when the streets were too dark and sleep took over the city, leaving Rosalie wide awake and lonely in such innominateness, she could feel the hit of withdrawals.

The swiftness in which they had left Forks had managed to relieve Rosalie's discomfort. The ease in which they left the first place that had truly felt like home to her, had angered her enough that Violet was pushed to the back of her mind. But the quietness in her bedroom, no matter the way she had made it her own, always brought the girl back.

In the months since the Cullens had left Forks, Rose had taken up something that could be called meditation. It wasn't, really, because Rosalie's mind was never quiet, never gave her peace. It was a wonder Edward hadn't been driven mad by the constant noise of her thoughts, but her brother was distracted enough, by the lack of Bella's presence. Two weeks later, he'd left, and she wondered if her thoughts had become too scathing to bear. If her accusations had finally pierced through his cold, metal skin and reached his heart.

Because Rosalie blamed Edward for everything.

If he had only had the same restraint toward Bella as she'd had for Violet, then maybe they would have never had to leave Forks. They could have lasted another five years, at least. They had spent far longer in other places. Places that she had hated and endured for the sake of her family. In Forks, they hadn't even made it a year.

I knew you were never strong enough, Edward. Sitting with her head against the glass, her hands clenched into fists, Rosalie hoped her brother heard each and every thought in her head, even from so far away in the south. You've ruined it all. You promised me. You promised me five happy years. But you ruined it all.

Even after spending three months in Ithaca, the sense of betrayal still burned. But there was only one feeling stronger than that. Rose watched from the window as Alice skipped from the house into the garden, moving as if she was floating. Jasper strolled behind her, hands reaching to lift her by the waist as she squealed and laughed. The sight brought a smile to her face, but Rosalie sighed and closed her eyes. More than anything, she wanted her brother to come home. She wanted their family to be whole again.

In her hand, the small flip phone felt heavy with temptation. But each time she rang, Edward would never answer. Maybe, she would get to a point where she wouldn't try any more. When she wouldn't care and any bindings she now felt would be loosened and broken. She dropped the phone to the other side of the bed and forced herself to think of that instead. To think of where she would take herself without guilt.

Once again, Rosalie thought of Violet.

As soon as the girl's face flooded her mind, Rose threw her neck down, cradling her head between her elbows as if she were in pain. She was many things, but Rosalie would not allow herself to be a hypocrite. Edward had ruined them thanks to his fascination with the human. She would not do the same.

Two months after Violet had left for college and a single month after the Cullens had fled the town, Rosalie had gone to see her. She looked different in New York. The big city didn't agree with her. Violet suited the soft wildness of the northwest, surrounded by damp greens and the scent of the sea. Swarmed around the cars her dad rescued and sat in the back of her beloved, green truck. But she'd seemed happy, smiling as she spoke to another classmate, walking through the grounds of the campus with her engineering books wrapped in her arms.

It took all her energy, but Rosalie didn't think of all the knowledge she'd learned in the past that she could have told Violet. She didn't think of how she could have helped her through the classes and the exams because she'd done it all before. Rosalie didn't think of how easy it could have been to stride across the grass and stand in front of the girl and say a summer wasn't enough. Rosalie didn't think about it. She didn't.

The look Alice levelled her made Rosalie roll her eyes. Coming from the garden, the sound of Emmett and Jasper's laughter was a sweet background noise. But the phone that lay between them on the kitchen table, open and untouched, sitting like a trophy between two competitors, was enough to take her attention. Alice was faster, but Rosalie wanted it more. Her hand shot out before Alice could even contemplate moving, and her fingers wrapped around the screen, almost crushing it. Alice let out a frustrated shout but grinned anyway. She had won either way.

After a week of contemplation, Rosalie had finally decided to call Edward, much to Alice's pleasure. She wondered if he'd heard her previous thoughts that she'd sent like arrows, and would choose to her ignore her because of them. She rang anyway.

The bleeps went on for a minute before the robotic voicemail finally answered. She rang again, and again, and again, until Alice finally snatched it from her hands and snapped the phone shut.

"He's not going to answer," she said, rolling her eyes but staying seated at the table.

"With enough rings he might," Rose said, reaching over to hold out her hand for it, but Alice didn't give in.

"With enough rings he might throw it into the ocean and never look back," she said with a pointed stare. Rose knew she was right. "This is our only point of contact with him. Don't lose it by being annoying."

Rosalie glared at her but didn't argue. She would ring again, but not yet. At least they knew where he was: somewhere down in Brazil, chasing Victoria toward Rio apparently. The guilt had eaten at him long enough that he couldn't remain still. He would see Bella again one day, just as Rosalie had observed Violet from afar, but Edward feared such attention would bring Victoria toward her again.

Emmett said that after so many years, the red-eye vampire wouldn't care about Bella. Rosalie thought different. She could recognise the ardour the woman had felt for her mate- the bond had been strong, an unbreakable chain.

But more than that, Rosalie had felt the passion of revenge before. It was as intoxicating as a drug. It had consumed her entire being, made her bitter and cruel. But, oh, how Rosalie had enjoyed it, had relished in the power such revenge, such justice, had brought her! Victoria would not stop until her wish was fulfilled. Rosalie knew that for certain.

In that, she could understand her brother. In that, she could forgive him. Perhaps in the end he had chosen right, no matter how she hated the repercussions. He protected Bella from afar, letting her remain human, giving her the life none of them had been able to have.

Jealousy bubbled in Rosalie's chest, but as soon as it came, she pushed it down, dragging her hand through long hair. She glanced at Alice, who still sat at the table, staring at her in judgment. Rosalie did not like that look. It felt as if her sister was standing with a mirror in front of her, forcing her to see herself, to think of herself. When she looked deeper than just her appearance, Rose never liked what she saw.

Rosalie pushed herself away from the table, letting the chair scape against the linoleum with a roar. She paused for a moment, mirroring Alice's stern stare, before announcing that she was going to find Emmett as she stormed from the room.

Welcome back, hope you enjoy and are looking forward to the next section :)
Any predictions?

In other words,

I just read the excerpt that SM Meyer wrote from Rosalie's POV in new moon and omg I hate it!! Don't hate me in turn for saying this, but the writing is so shallow and two dimensional, it's just not good.