A/N- I thought it might help Bella's mumblings at the end of The Nightmare make a little more sense if you all had an understanding of the nightmare she was having. I tried not to make the violence too graphic, but this is a serious subject that should not be shied away from. I apologize if this causes anyone pain to read. That was never my intention, but I felt the scene needed to be addressed since it was left open to speculation in the original fic.

I decided to keep this separate from the rest of the fic due to its mature rating. I wanted those who wished to read The Nightmare at its original rating to continue to do so, while still providing this background to those of you wished to see it.

I encourage you all to read The Nightmare before reading this story, because it will make more sense in context. I felt it would be redundant to continue past the ending provided since it would be nearly identical to The Nightmare.

Feedback, as always, is welcomed and appreciated.

Thanks for reading.

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BPOV

For a night spent without the comfort of Edward's embrace, I was having remarkably pleasant dreams. I was in the meadow with Edward, just gazing into his topaz eyes. The breeze curled around us, enveloping me with his sweet scent and warm, moist air.

Without warning, Edward disappeared and a strange sort of mist curled around me; I was instantly terrified. I had come to realize the mist was a warning sign of coming pain, the ripping open of the newly closed hole in my chest. The meadow faded in to pitch black darkness, the only sound, a sort of dull, hollow, thumping from my feet as I shuffled from side to side, trying to find some source of light.

Menacing laughter sounded, but it was muffled. I spun wildly, trying to discover the source of the sound. The mist began to let up, but the laughter grew louder and louder, sounding oddly familiar, in a bone-chilling sort of way. It didn't take me long to figure out why.

As quickly as the mist had appeared, the mist dissipated completely and I instantly recognized the scene. I was back in the ally in Port Angeles and the laughter was coming from the men who had tried to attack me.

I stood rooted to the spot, unable to even breath. I waited, terrified, for Edward to appear and save me as before. But they just got closer and closer, touching me, manhandling me, leaving me no room for escape. Just when I was prepared to finally let out a scream, something pulled me from their grasp.

I was behind a cold, firm presence and I immediately assumed it was Edward. When blonde hair swirled in front of me, confusion replaced relief.

"You wont touch her," sneered Rosalie's bell like voice.

She stood between them and me, like an avenging angel. I could almost imagine downy wings on her back and a halo above her blonde curls. The men leered at her, lunging as if to attack, but she was faster and more powerful, easily dispatching them one by one. I gasped as their blood left crimson stains on the pavement and on Rosalie's hands.

Even if my shocked state, I was glad for her presence, but I still could not understand why Rosalie, of all people, had come to save me, and I had no time to dwell on it.

Rosalie turned as if to look at me, but before she could face me completely, she froze, her whole body tensing. I whirled around, squinting into the darkness, seeing nothing, which frightened me more.

She began to back away, passing me with a look of terror on her face I'd never seen before. I blinked and then gasped. Her eyes were no longer amber, but a stormy shade of violet and there was a flush to her cheeks. I heard footsteps coming closer and closer, and I moved, remaining motionless once I was behind her, having no idea what was coming. Rosalie didn't even seem to notice me anymore. She appeared to be on the verge of hyperventilating.

Out of the shadows stepped the figures of five men, one seeming to lead the rest. They were speaking, but I couldn't understand the words or see their faces. They were in a sort of haze.

Rosalie continued to back up, and just when she should have bumped into me, it seemed as though she passed right through me. As though I wasn't even there.

The faceless man had surrounded her now, pawing at her as my attackers had done. Their hands were like claws, ripping at her.

"No!" I screamed, but it seemed no one heard me.

"No! Stop it!" I tried again, running to shove the men away from her, but again, I passed right through.

Rosalie's terrified cries tore through me. She was scared, pleading for the pain to stop, but the men just kept up their horrifying assault.

The tore at her clothing, ripping the fabric to shreds, and exposing what I now understood to be her human body to their abuse. I was witnessing the event that led to Rosalie's transformation, but this seemed so much worse than her retelling of the story.

Her cries grew in intensity and desperation as the leader of the faceless men forced him self on her. She shrieked in pain and agony.

I wanted to protect her from the onslaught, wanted to spare her the pain and suffering. I wanted to save her as she had saved me, but I was powerless to stop the scene before me.

"Stop! Don't hurt her!" I pleaded, with no effect.

He continued to abuse her already battered body with the other men pawing at her, like wild animals over a carcass.

When I thought I couldn't take anymore, her eyes locked with mine, holding such profound sadness I cried out in pain. She could see me. She knew I was there even if the others didn't and she knew I could do nothing to save her.

Unlike Rosalie, I couldn't be an avenging angel. But all the same, I had to try,

I rushed at the men; the first had apparently finished and another looked to be taking his place. I just couldn't bear to see her used like some empty vessel for their satisfaction.

"Please. She doesn't deserve this. Leave her alone!" I screeched desperately, willing them to hear to words and feel the force of my shoves.

Nothing worked. I had to watch, Rosalie's eyes locked with mine all the while, as the men continued their brutal assault of her body. One by one they took their turns and left their marks.

When I thought I could watch no more, the last took his turn, displaying far more violence than the rest. Rosalie managed to gather enough strength to try to run, but she slipped. I heard the deadening crack of her skull against the pavement, and watched horrified as the man continued to find his pleasure in her broken, and now freely bleeding body.

"Why? Why her? Hasn't she suffered enough?" I called to no one in particular, having now given up on making my voice heard by her attackers. "Please, PLEASE, no more!"

I sobbed, watching her body writhe in pain, but I came up short when I realized the flailing of her limbs reminded me of a rag doll. Rosalie was giving up; she had no more fight in her. I could see her violet eyes clouding over with a haze from the pain and disbelief.

The last man finished, leaving her there in a pool of her own blood, laughing as he met up with the others and they walked out of the ally.

Rosalie's breaths came out in painful rasps and wheezes. The blood continued to pool from the wound in her head, from her fingertips where she had clawed without effect at the ground and her attackers, and down her legs, as a testament to their brutal ravaging of her body.

Her breaths became more labored and her eyes regained enough focus to lock with mine one last time, and I knew then she was going to die in front of me. She was going to die because I had done nothing to save her.

"Noooooooo! Don't take her from me." I begged to whatever deity would listen. "Don't take my sister!"

Rosalie and I may not have bonded, but we shared at tentative friendship and I hoped she would come to see me as a sister; I already felt that way about her, having accepted her whole family and their relationships to each other as my own. She fought for me, even when I felt like she was fighting against me, and now she was dying.

I kept waiting for Carlisle to show up. That was how this story was supposed to end. He was supposed to save her. But as the minutes ticked by, I slowly realized Carlisle was not coming and Rosalie was going to die. She was never going to get her happy ending with Emmett.

I reached toward her, longing to provide some measure of comfort to the broken, bleeding girl, dying in front of me. But just as my fingers would have touched her cheek, the light left her eyes and she dissolved before me.

I jolted awake, panting, my eyes, gummy from tears, focusing momentarily on the moon beams illuminating Edward's ceiling, before I vaulted out of bed, struggling to disentangle myself from the covers. I flew down the stairs to the second floor, my anxiety growing by the minute.

I couldn't find anyone, and most especially, I couldn't find Rosalie. It had to be a dream, but it felt too real for me to be convinced before I saw her, golden eyes, not lifeless violet, glaring at me for disturbing her– before I could believe she hadn't just died in front of me.

I opened every door on the second floor, and after finding no one, nearly tumbled down the flight of stairs leading to the first floor in my haste to check the living room.

I spotted Esme first, barely noticing her look of concern as I scanned the room frantically. I saw Alice and Jasper too, but sitting on the far sofa, apparently completely whole, unharmed, and tawny eyed, was Rosalie, staring at me in confusion, but with the hint of annoyance that settled my panic further.

But I couldn't be convinced until I knew she was solid, so I lunged at her, relieved when her stony body knocked the breath out of me. My relief was short lived as the strangled sobs that had been aching to burst forth were finally released.

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A/N- Well, there you have it. The nightmare scene missing from the original that will hopefully give you a bit more insight on the more cryptic dialogue from The Nightmare. Again, I apologize if this is in anyway upsetting to anyone. That was never my intention.