You Like Your Girls Insane

Author's Note: Tumblr is refusing to work with me, so here I am, writing more fanfiction. I cannot stop. Please, tell me when you get sick of me. Anyway, this is the sequel to Mermaid Motel. If you've seen Lana Del Rey's music video for "Born To Die," you'll know how this ends. Happy Born To Die Day. (And to make things interesting, count how many album references you manage to catch.)

Oh, and I don't own Twilight. I don't want to.

Bella Swan is yours. She has always been yours. As you lay with her in bed in a small motel room, you know that she'll always be yours.

The light from the television reflects onto her bare back as she sleeps peacefully. She really is the light of your life. She's the most exotic flower you've ever seen. You just want to hold her tight, but of course, she's sleeping. You, however, can't sleep. For some reason, you're just… riled up. Every time you close your eyes, you're still awake. Everything is just darker. You've been tuning into the heavy metal hour on the small, staticky TV for thirty-five minutes now.

You want to believe that Bella is and will always be yours, but… it's not clicking with you. You think she's absolutely insane for promising that to you. You've missed her so much; you just can't stand to have her leave again.

Maybe she won't have to.

You've been so lost without her. As unfair as it is to hate college, you just hate it. College took Bella away from you. You were so bored out of your mind without her. You were going insane. Bella drove you insane.

The funny thing is, you still miss her. You're still going insane.

It's like she never really came back. Her soul is haunting you, even though she's physically here.

You two get dressed in the morning—and it's so early that it's still dark out—and head out to the Rabbit. You lift her and she wraps her legs around you like she hasn't seen you in years.

She knows that you still miss her. She's perfectly aware that she hasn't really come back. Part of her is still in California.

You don't start the car up when you enter it. Bella is still wrapped around you, and you sit in the driver's seat. You kiss her like you're never gonna be with her ever again. Bella doesn't have to tell you she misses you, too. You look up at her as she wipes an imaginary smudge from your face, and her expression is as sweet and honest as cinnamon. She nods slightly, as if to say, I'm here. I'm real. I'm with you.

Suddenly, though, she does tell you something else. It comes out as a whisper, but it shatters your ears like being right next to an airplane at takeoff would.

I have a boyfriend.

Your hands fall limp, but she catches your hands. You can't bring yourself to say anything.

Bella Swan lied to you.

You can't even fathom why she would do that.

She quickly brings your hands to her heart and tries to say something, but you pull away. You can't have this. You shake your head, and she frowns. She tries to get you to listen.

Try to understand.

You understand perfectly that she lied. You're a guy; you can't help but get jealous.

Forgive me.

You can't forgive her.

Tears well up in her little Bambi eyes, and it's ridiculous. Why is she crying over something she brought on herself? Before you know it, the tears are running down her face. She looks like a child, all innocent and vulnerable.

I'm sorry.

You know she's sorry. You speak this time. You just can't help what comes out of your mouth.

I knew it, you tell her sternly. Of course you knew it.

She climbs off your lap and starts running to the road. She can't be serious. You know she's coming back. You watch her run away. You want her to run away.

Only you can't. You know you can't let her go. Not again.

You swiftly get out of the car, run to her like hell's army is chasing you, and catch her by the arm. Every move you make breaks your heart a little more. Doesn't she know that every little thing you do is for her? You spin her around and lock your fingers to hers. She may have lied, but you can't lose her.

No. Please, you say. Stay here.

However, her voice is loud and defensive.


You can't let her go. You can't.

She is literally everything to you.

Your throat closes up at the sight of her. The tears are endless. She makes you want to cry, because you know she's never coming back. Your love is just as infinite as her tears, though. You're weak. You, Jacob Black, turn into putty at the hands of Bella Swan. Story of your life.

Let me take you home, is what you pathetically tell her.

She isn't having it. She nearly spits the next thing she tells you. California is my home.

You shrug your shoulders. Then I'll take you there.

She doesn't have a problem with that at all. You're thankful for that, at least.

You open the door to the Rabbit for her, and you really do decide to drive her to California. You have all the time in the world. Who cares if this is stupid? You can be stupid. You don't think she's going to be in love with you forever, anyway. The freeways at three-thirty in the morning are lonely.

The car feels even lonelier.

Bella won't look at you. She can't. She just stares out the window as you cruise down the coast, going at about ninety-nine miles per hour. You reach over to grab her hand, and she won't let you.

She's making you feel guilty for her broken promise, just like you did.

Karma is a bitch.

This is too dramatic for you. This is a love story for the new age. It's that heart-wrenching for you. You just want Bella to be happy. You don't want to see her sad. You don't want to see her cry. What kind of boyfriend are you, anyway? You should've let the Cullen guy have her.

But you can't fight Bella.

You can only fight for her.

Mindlessly, you lean over in the Rabbit, bring your hand to her cheek, and kiss her hard on the lips.

The crazy thing is, she actually lets you.

With your foot still on the gas pedal, you give all your love to Bella—no, you give everything you've ever had or wanted to her—with kisses. She wraps her legs around your torso. You know that she only does this to you. You know the "boyfriend" doesn't get Bella like this.

Your entire world spins as you kiss her. You want to choose your last words for her, but you can't find them. Each and every kiss is an indescribable word itself.

You and Bella were born to die together. Isn't it obvious?

You fought your hardest. She let you fight, and, boy, did you fight. You fought to the death. Her death.

There's a big crash. You're not even sure what you crashed into, but going at ninety-nine miles per hour, it had to be bad, anyway. Bella gets the impact first. She doesn't scream. She doesn't utter a single sound, because her lips are on yours. Her blood flies onto you. She's been cut by something. Many things. Glass flies at you, too, but you ignore it.

You don't care how injured you are. Bella doesn't care how injured she is. Neither of you care that the car is on fire. You're a werewolf; you're not going to die here. But...

But Bella is human, and she is going to die.

She keeps kissing you. She tells you she's yours in choked whispers. She can't breathe.

She is burning. She is dying.

There's no other boyfriend. Not anymore. I'm yours. I'm yours, Jacob.

She is dead.

You later stand in front of the burning car, and you hold her bloodied corpse in your arms. She is weightless. She has always been weightless. At this same time, though, you feel the weight of a thousand chains on your heart.

Bella Swan is yours. She really is.

You never knew it would take death to finally believe her.