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Martyr

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If you don't love me, I'll kill myself.

It was all she could hear, pounding through her mind, sparking in her veins, pumping through her heart in one endless cycle of words.

If you don't love me …

Inhale. Exhale. Everything's fine.

… I'll kill myself.

It was night time; and cold. Summer was on its way, but a rainstorm was beating the windows outside, and jarring the glass slightly. A rainstorm. They always reminded her of Jacob. Full of power and anguish and destruction; and yet as refreshing and necessary as the sun that he would always be.

Or maybe it was just that every time she saw him; every time she hurt him, it was raining.

She was hurting him now. As she lay there, trying to breathe easily, trying to keep up the pretence of sleep. As he lay next to her.

He was probably smiling. Despite him being such a complicated, twisted person, things were working out very well for Edward. He was getting exactly what he wanted, without any of the moral trauma Bella was putting herself through. He was … happy, now. He was home. He had Bella again; and he didn't have a best friend breaking his heart.

Every half-remembered conversation; every smile and word of banter … at times like this, they cascaded through her mind, too fast and too brightly, making slumber impossible. Constant reminders of the lie she was living. Lying there, immobile and incapable of freedom …

It was worth it. Better than the alternative.

Please, she thought suddenly; violently, Jake. Imprint on someone else. Imprint on someone who wants to live a thousand miles from here. Imprint on someone who can love you with no strings attached. Go. Imprint on her. Leave me behind.

Joan of Arc had been a martyr. She had given herself up to save the thing she loved. Her country.

Bella was always going to be one. Edward probably knew the she was one, but in a different way than was true. She would give up her human life for the love of him.

It was a lie.

She was giving up all of her life, distancing herself from her heart just to keep him alive; to disallow him from committing the greatest of crimes against himself: suicide.

If you don't love me …

How could she ever let him? He was beautiful. Inside and out, beautiful; but she didn't love him. Not in the way he deserved to be loved. She loved his personality, his intelligence, his wit, his thoughts, his feelings … he was miraculous. The world deserved someone like Edward. Who was she to deprive the world of his genius? No-one. She was no-one. So she couldn't.

So, she'd do her damnedest to love him. To keep him alive. To give him, as a gift, to the world.

To give herself, for him.

The wind screamed outside, and she shivered, before stiffening, trying to stay 'asleep'. These were good times for her. When she could feign sleep and be almost alone with her thoughts.

She thought of Jacob.

She allowed herself these moments rarely. They – hurt. A glorious, real pain, that she enjoyed as much as the bittersweet thoughts that floated delicately around her mind; ethereal and transient as soap bubbles, and as beautiful to behold.

Jacob Jacob Jacob Jacob …

Bright smile, soft hair, warm, warm, warm, gentle, sweet, loving –

'Bella?' Edward whispered.

Her breath hitched as she started violently, before settling back into the pretence of ease.

'Yes, Edward?' she forced her lips to say, shoving all thoughts of Jacob away and changing modes back to businesslike and focused. This was all part of the job.

'What are you thinking about?'

A gentle, guileless question, the sort of question lovers often asked each other.

'You,' she answered honestly, and she could sense his smile widening as he pulled her tighter into the cradle of his arms. A cradle, a prison … what was the difference, they were both the same things with different names.

And so she lay there, immobile, with a heavy heart, strangely empty, thinking on what a paradox that was.

If you don't love me …

'Goodnight, my Bella,' he whispered to her. She loved him. Like a devout loves their god. But she loved Jacob like a woman loves a man. With every sweep of his hair, every beat of his heart, the love only grew.

But she would still grow old and older and ancient and immortal and watch the seasons grow and die … watch him die. All for her idol, her god who owned and owed her so much.

'Goodnight, Edward,' she whispered, curling into the welcoming chains of his arms, prepared for a future of being there forever, and watching whatever pieces were left of her shattered human heart die away.

If you don't love me, I'll kill myself.

She would never let that happen. Even if she had to, in a way, kill herself to avoid it.

xXx

A/N: Oooh, aaaaah, the darker side of the twilight. ;) How angsty and anti-Eddie. But you can understand where I'm coming from, can't you? She can't have Jake, even if she wants him, because it would destroy Edward in totality. She didn't really have much of a choice, poor love. Just a quickie to keep me in practise. Here you go, Killo. ;) There, I updated!! YAY!! Do review, my fols.

Love from Wraithlike xxx