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Pretty Little Girl

Rosalie Hale isn't as stupid as some people think. She understood the way the world worked. Money and power got you what you wanted and, as long as you didn't get caught, anything was fair game in the quest for more money and power. Defend your own power and take it from others. Vengeance must be swift against those who would belittle you or take away your strength.

Rosalie Hale moved down the well-waxed corridors of Forks High the way a lioness glides through the sun-bleached grasses of the Sahara, lean and mean, with a dangerous femininity rippling down the lines of her body. Her short wool skirt made a faint hiss as it brushed against nylon tights. Her heels snapped sharply to a stop on top of the high school seal in the middle of the hallway intersection. She liked the way the girls cast envious glances and boys eyed her with open lust, each of them forced to tear their gaze away from her as they made their way to the last class of the last day of school. They were her victims and she had all the power. Rosalie's eyes sparkled like green Venetian-glass under the florescent lights as they cut through the throng and settled on the dark mop-head of her prey.

A sharp angling of the foot, stretch of the leg, and she had moved to stand in front Royce King. She tilted her head and let her sleek hair slide off the curve of one golden shoulder as she slanted her glistening lips just like she'd practiced in her bedroom mirror this morning; not quite a smile, just the hint of a pout.

"Hey, Royce," she breathed the words out casually as if she hadn't been avoiding him for the last two weeks.

Royce blinked and jerked his gaze up from the exposed column of her neck and up to look her in the eyes. "Rosalie?" he queried in a mild daze.

Really, sometimes it was too easy. He was putty in her hands and she hadn't even brought out the big guns. Rosalie reached out one perfectly manicured fingernail and trailed it down the soft fabric of Royce's surfer-boy top so that it made a faint rasp that only the two of them could hear. "I hear you and Jasper are throwing a summer kickoff party Friday night." She pulled back and watched him through the modest fan of her lashes.

"Uh, yeah," Royce stuttered. "Edward normally does it, but he's still in the hospital… since those La Push guys… um..." his voice trailed off as she began to slowly run the back of her nails across the smooth skin at her collarbone. He was enthralled. She had nodded absently to his words but quickly to come to her point as soon as they faded away.

"Fantastic," she chirped. "I hope I'll see you there." She opened her eyes wide and pursed her lips so that the light would pick up the sheen of her expensive lip-gloss. She purred like the most innocent kitten, "I know I've been distant for a while now, but I'm hoping we can start spending more time together now that schools out." Just one bat of her eyelashes there; she didn't want to over do it. Royce wasn't stupid, no matter what some people thought.

She flashed him a final mysterious smile and spun away into the flow of fellow students just as the warning bell rung. As soon as she rounded the corner, she let her face revert to its usual mask of smug superiority. It was going to be difficult to keep up the game, to continue to play the sweet seductress with Royce, but she knew she had the skills to pull it off. She'd spent her life cultivating her acting techniques, but all that was really needed was to know your audience. In the end it would be worth it.

Royce wasn't stupid. The shaggy hair, surfer speak, and petty mind were good smoke screens, but he hadn't managed to pass four honors courses this year while spending nearly ever afternoon at the beach without having a little bit going on upstairs. Rosalie had been dating him for a year, off–and-on, and she knew he was ruthless with both his work and play. He didn't care about means as long as the goal was worth it.

But Rosalie was ruthless too. She wasn't stupid either, despite the natural blonde hair and perfect body. She might not have the book-smarts of the rest of her family, but she understood people, could read them at a glance. She understood the way the world worked. Money and power got you what you wanted and, as long as you didn't get caught, anything was fair game in the quest for more money and power. Defend your own power and take it from others. Vengeance must be swift against those who would belittle you or take away your strength.

Alice Brandon didn't really understand that, though she tried so hard to put on the tough girl act. Rosalie could see her now as she had stood in the girls' bathroom, two weeks ago, and admitted, with shaky words and flushed silences, that she had been drugged at Garrett's spring break party. Oh, Rosalie had known what that meant, and even now she had to force herself not to howl out her rage. She had given the white-trash that cup of lard that Royce had so kindly brought to her unasked, and then Alice had ended up making out with every guy at the party and probably sleeping with a couple of them. It didn't take a genius.

Too bad for Royce that Rosalie wasn't stupid and she knew how the world worked. Too bad for him that he'd tried to take away her power, her control. It had taken her weeks to work out the correct mode of vengeance, but she had finally mapped out the perfect plan. Her payback would be oh-so-pretty.

xxx

She found Mike standing by the flagpole and checking his watch. She sauntered over to him with a calculated swing in her hips. When she was about three-feet away she cleared her throat and spoke breezily, "So, Mike, will you be heading down to Port Angeles on a drug run tonight?"

That got his attention. He focused in on her and moved to stand near to her as he whispered, "Hey, keep your voice down. You know I haven't done that since November."

Rosalie smirked as he pulled her into an out-of-the-way nook. "No, what I know is that you wanted everyone to think you'd stopped. Too bad you're such a talkative drunk." Mike's mouth gaped as he stood riveted by her words. "What? You don't remember? Edward's party a few weeks ago? You kept begging anyone with cleavage for a body shot? I didn't suffer through all that saliva for my health. Oh, you don't pack in steroids any more, but everything else? Oh yes," Rosalie hissed, her lips inches from his ear. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him shake his head.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Ask anyone, I don't deal drugs!"

He was trying to be threatening, his hand gestures growing more and more emphatic even has he worked not to draw attention to them, but he only ended up sounding like a pathetic child who knew they'd lost control of the situation but couldn't help mewling. It was almost endearing. Rosalie angled her body and stepped into his, forcing him back against the school wall with nothing more than her unnerving stare. She rested a palm on his chest and leaned up towards his ear. To anyone else, they would look like two lovers whispering pretty nothings.

She hissed softly, "Of course you don't deal. You let the others do it for you; Tyler, some La Push guy named Paul, that gay kid – Ben? You made sure they didn't know each other, but they all know you. And they'd all sell you out in a heartbeat-," she drummed her fingers against his chest in mimicry of that beat before continuing, "- if it was a choice between them or you." His chest expanded as he drew breath to speak and she quickly crossed his lips with one delicate finger. "No, no… I think you've talked enough, don't you? Now let me tell you what's going to happen," she cocked her head in mock consideration, "unless you want me to take what I know to the cops."

She felt the fear rise off him, saw the beads of perspiration start at his temples and upper lip, and she smiled as she began to whisper threats into his ear. His face was pale as chalk by the time she was through and he could only choke out two words.

"You're horrible."

Rosalie backed away from him unconcerned and flipped her hair as she saw a group of friends approaching from the school entrance.

"Tanya!" she bubbled, hooking her arm through that of the other girl. "Oh. Em. Gee. Did you see what Bella was wearing today? Total Salvation slut!" As the other girls giggled and began to expound and move towards the parking lot, she tossed a pretty smile over her shoulder at Mike's dwindling figure.

xxx

Daddy was gone again, on another business trip. The house was just the two girls, her Mom, always a bundle of nervous energy, and Rosalie herself. She didn't know what was worse, when her mother couldn't meet her eyes, or when she tried so painfully to connect on some level. Every time she looked at her only child, Rosalie could feel herself being compared to some crazy ideal. To Mrs. Hale, Rosalie would always be the pale imitation of the daughter she should have had, no matter how hard Rosalie worked to make her proud.

Rosalie had known she wasn't a Hale by blood ever since her father had whispered the sad truth to her on the dark night of her fourth birthday. He'd explained that they loved her just the same, that she was their pretty, perfect daughter and always would be. She strived to live up to that ideal, but she was never enough for her mother.

Which is why Rosalie found herself packing an overnight bag with everything she would need until her doting daddy returned on Saturday morning. She stated her intention to spend the night with her friend Kate and breezed through the front door, ignoring her mother's polite and petty protests.

xxx

Rosalie used the short days before the party to work Royce into a frenzy of unrelieved sexual tension every time they were together. She wore her most enticing outfits, but wouldn't let him touch her. She leaned in and breathed against his neck when she spoke to him, but she pulled casually away each time he tried to make a connection with her. At times, she would giggle and laugh at his jokes, gaze at him in admiration, and other times, she would pretend she had forgotten his existence.

By the time the party was in full swing, she had him right where she wanted him. He brought her a soda and assured her it was diet. She laughed and pressed the drink she'd gotten for him into his hands. Oh, that had thrilled him.

xxx

It had been harder than she thought to get him those final paces to the bed. Once she was no longer focused on the act of making him appear to be the less affected of the two of them, his weight had begun to irritate her and she pushed him onto his bed, not at all concerned when his head struck the headboard with a slight bang.

She surveyed his twisted body with distaste but swallowed her disgust and began removing the necessary ingredients from her purse, setting them on the night stand. She pulled out the small square packet of a condom last.

Rosalie straddled Royce's legs, letting her skirt ride high up her thighs. She grabbed at his wrists and pressed into them with her nails. She pulled down hard, raking his flesh and smiled as he groaned and began to blink. She placed one hand at the juncture of his thighs, and, with the other, squeezed deliberately at the pulse point of his throat. His eyes flew open, their washed-out blue even fuzzier than normal as he tried to work out what was happening to his body.

"Rosalie? Wha…"

"Shut up, Royce." Her voice was a feral growl. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

As his body began to react, she lowered herself over him and began to unbutton his fly.

xxx

Rosalie hadn't felt pretty since she had turned away from the bathroom mirror and heard the words that meant she had almost lost herself to Royce King at that spring break party. She had loved him, in her way. Yet, all this time, he had only wanted one thing from her. She had entertained herself with sweet thoughts of his adoration as she lay awake at night. Now all his pretty words of consideration and devotion burned like acid in the center of her mind. He had taken away her fairytale prince and revealed the monster underneath.

It was as if a thin sheen of oily slim had coated her entire world. No amount of showers or baths could clean it off. No perfume was expensive enough to cover its stench. She had only survived by putting on the act she had been perfecting for years; the flipping, silky hair, the sparkling lip-gloss, the beaded tops, the graceful sneer, she used them all. The world still saw her as pretty, and it was enough while she carried out her plans.

When enough time had passed, she pulled herself away from Royce's passed-out form and struggled off the bed. She made her way to Royce's full length mirror and completed the transformation. She took hold of one spaghetti strap on her flashy top and pulled it hard until it snapped. Her make-up had already smeared, but she streaked it a bit more here and there, considering her face the way an artist contemplates the canvas of his masterpiece. She pulled hairs loose from her coiffure and mussed it further on one side of her head. She gazed with pleasure at her bloody nails. She surveyed her disarray with pride and returned to Royce's bed side.

The used condom lay among the rumpled bed sheets. She left the extra dose of GHB on his bedside table, along with the plastic cup with her lipstick stain still embellishing its edge.

She checked her watch and walked from the room. Most of the guests had already left and it was an easy thing to avoid the passed out stragglers. Once she was standing at the head of the long driveway, she took a small vial from her purse. She quickly downed the perfect dose of drugs for her body weight. It would be at just the right level in her blood when she was tested. She looked at her watch again and smiled smugly. Mike would be calling in the anonymous drug tip just now and she would be there to greet the sheriff's men as they headed up the drive.

She tried not to stumble as she walked down the long driveway. She had already decided that her daddy would be the first person she'd tell. She knew what he would do with this information. He had made it clear on her fourth birthday. No one touched his pretty little girl.

No one.

Except him.