I'd love some reviews on this guys - I'd like a vote of confidence on this piece. Or, I mean, some constructive criticism would be equally welcome. Thanks for all the alerts/favorites!! And, of course, thanks also for your patience - I've got the second half all ready. :) R/R!

"Emmett, you've heard me talking about my life before getting changed, right?"

"Of course," he replied, clearly relieved that he was getting somewhere. "Your dad worked at the bank, and you were the belle of every cotillion ball in Rochester."

"Right," I replied. "And you remember me talking about getting engaged, right?"

"Yeah," Emmett waved his hand dismissively, clearly not threatened by this unknown man from my past. "Some human banker guy, right?"

"Right," I replied again, this time with less confidence. The conversation was already difficult, and it was about to get a thousand times worse. "His name was… Royce King."

Emmett continued to sit in silence. It might have been an hour that we sat there like that, and nobody came to bother us. Edward had to have a hand in this somewhere. Stupid kid was probably very pleased with himself. Finally, I found it within myself to continue on. I could see the sun setting through the open window, and knew it would only get harder to talk about this when night came.

"He was tall and strong and from a good family," I continued softly. "He had a nice smile and a calming voice with the accent of a well-bred New York boy. Everybody – that is, everybody in Rochester who mattered – agreed that we were an ideal match, and the wedding was all but planned before he even gave me the ring. He sent me flowers and dresses and new outfits from Paris all through the engagement…"

I could tell that I was smiling wistfully. How could it be, looking through the veil of all that had happened, that these memories could still be so sweet?

"I was already thinking about who I was going to be – as Rosalie Hale King. It sounded nice, to say, even. It rolled off the tongue, and that only added to my sureness that it was meant to be. I knew I was born to be Mrs. Royce King. The mother of Royce King III. It's funny; it sounded so perfect back then, but so… strange now. Things changed so much that night."

The lines of concern returned to Emmett's forehead.

"What happened, baby?" he asked, knowing how close we were getting to the important part of the story. My hand, still rested over his, tightened. If he had been human, my claw-like fingernails might have left a mark. But then again, if he were human, we wouldn't be here having this discussion to begin with, would we?

I would have liked to stop again like I had before, but I knew that if I did I wouldn't ever start back again. And I'd spoken so much of the unspeakable already that there was no point in wasting all the pain for nothing.

"I was walking back from Vera's house," I said, my voice cracking and disappearing in places. "It was a pretty night – a cool night. The streetlights were just coming on. My neighborhood was a safe one, you have to understand. But I guess it wasn't that night. They were there, waiting for me."

"Who were they?" Emmett inquired, leaning in closer. The scent of his breath on my cheeks brought me back to reality enough that I could keep talking.

"It was Royce," I said bitterly, more bitterly than I would have guessed that I could have. "And all his friends. They were drunk, Emmett. I didn't know what they were doing at first. I wanted to think it was a joke."

Emmett had begun to understand, and I could see the dark revulsion contorting his face.

"What did those bastards do to you?" he whispered, his voice shaking a little. It surprised me to see it, but his expression was almost childlike. Emmett clearly was capable of understanding what had happened, but he was in denial just as much as I was. He was such a child at heart after all was said and done. I continued to stare down, and I felt my eyes squinching shut and my insides curling up, like I was a little human girl about to cry.

"Royce, Royce himself, ripped off my jacket," I whispered. "It was one that he bought for me. I'll never forget the sound of the buttons scattering on the pavement and knowing that it was all over. Not just my dreams with him, but all my dreams. I don't know how you're imagining it, but it was worse. I knew what Royce was going to do, but it wasn't just him – it was all of them. It seemed like it took hours, but it can't have been that long. I wouldn't have lived that long. And here's the stupidest part of all – the fact that Royce could still hurt me after that. The fact that he let the others rape me too – it stung more than I can say. It almost felt like it would have been bearable, if it had been just him."

Having stopped watching Emmett, I kept on. This wasn't for him anymore – this was a release, for me.

"I don't know why I was still awake either – as Carlisle tells me, I hit my head on a lamppost and got a concussion – but I felt every bit of it. All the pain, all the everything. I still remember it now, and for some reason, it doesn't seem as blurry as the other human memories. I can even remember the moment they all left. I was still there in the bloody snow, and you would have thought that I would have been relieved that it was over. But I knew it wasn't over. It wouldn't be over until I had died – which, in my naivety, I didn't think was too far off."

I looked up defiantly after I was finished, expecting for some reason to see Emmett's eyes narrowed in disbelief. Maybe I hoped that he wouldn't believe it – because Then I could be convinced of what I'd hoped all along. That I'd made it all up. It hadn't really happened that way; it couldn't have.

But I wasn't expecting Emmett's mixed expression of anger, fear, disgust, and – get this – inhuman, otherworldly compassion. The expression in his eyes mixed with my own tiny, curled-up reflection looking back at me made my lip tremble in anguish and shame.

He came to me with arms outstretched.

For the first time, I allowed myself to be lifted into them. I knew logically how cold they were, but they didn't feel one one-thousandth as cold as all those hands had been that night. They were warm, strong, and wrapped around me not like a vice but like a blanket. I felt myself being lifted onto his lap and rocked slowly back and forth, and I buried my head in the hollow of his neck.

"Rosalie, baby, Rosalie, baby," he whispered between the sound of my whimpers, his lips brushing against my hair. "I'm here, I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

"Vampires need lullabies too, Emmett," I whispered. "Lie down with me and don't let go."

Emmett gently eased me back onto the bed and nestled beside me, my head still rested in the soft place between his neck and shoulder blade. I wasn't sure if I had ever been this close to him before, but I knew now that there was nothing more natural to me. I breathed him in deeply, like a drowning person who had finally surfaced. His scent was fresh and soft, and it intoxicated me. Though he continued to stroke my hair and whisper, the words didn't hardly mattered anymore.

Because I had finally stepped out of the darkness.