A Rose by another Name

Prologue

Life should have been perfect. I had everything. My parents loved me – though I had always suspected they loved my beauty more then my person – I had a younger set of siblings who adored me. I had known since my mother had my younger sister, Rose, that one day I would marry my prince, and have a family, with a little girl who would be just like her. Most of all, I was engaged to the most well known man in Rochester. Royce King was a handsome man, who seemed to adore me, he gave me gifts almost every day, and I was ecstatic with how my life seemed to be going. I was seventeen when I met Royce, he was the son of the bank owner where my father worked. Mother asked me to take father his lunch one day – which he had conveniently forgotten – and he seemed to follow my every move as I entered and greeted my father and Mr. King. I didn't notice his attentions at first, but I always had everyone's attention when I walked into a room, so his advances from afar where no different then any other day for me. If only I knew then what I know now.

Back then I was shallow, I lived for what others thought of me, for my beauty. I was privileged, even with the great-depression going on I was none the wiser to others plights. I was always to busy to do much more then daydream about my future with Royce, the children we would have together, and the happiness I would get. Happy endings are hard to come by, it seemed like mine was within my grasp but sometimes things interfere and tragedy is the result of a violent storm. The calm before the storm they say.

I don't know if I will ever get my happy ending, but then if we all had happy endings we'd all be under gravestones now. Of course, it doesn't look like a gravestone is where I'll ever be. Sure, I can come to Rochester every year if I wanted to and see my name on a headstone, but I'll know it will simply be a name on a headstone. I'll never be resting under it, not even when my immortal life ends.

I assume this is all I'll ever be, frozen. My name is Isabella Rosalie Hale, and I am eighteen years old. I'll always be eighteen, because from this day on, I'll always been a vampire, frozen in time and never to move forward.

I guess what they say is true; you don't know what you have until you've lost it. I wounder if it counts if I always knew what I had, but never appreciated it until I lost it?