She says (little blond girl with mischief in her baby-blues) she let go of her railing and tripped and fell into my world, in angry voice after a long drawn out fight, 'and I could easily find my way out, remember that, dog'
But I know too well she saw me (fur coming like waves) and jumped into this little town, forks, looking for the dog boy that likes to bite pretty little girls with clouds in their heads, and she's still here, my very own shock collar.
That name (Bella, Bella, BELLA!) it seemed to drift away fall into all the rest of my bad memories, replaced by skipping, kissing little Elle Bishop and her fingers that sizzled with each touch.
Some days, she puts her little fingers, sending sparks all the way through me waking the beast and almost bringing the fur, the howls, the teeth to the surface.
Her words came, stiff and wanting, rather then the little shrill giggle that she always seemed to have, 'dog, pretty little mutt. Do you still love her, miss vampire? Jacob, do you?'
The old me, me that was on the edge ready to rip anything and everything to shreds, (all for her, little miss clumsy) it would have growled out a long 'yes, yes I do and no one can stop that' but now the no came so easily.
'No, Elle, no I don't. Not anymore and that's all thanks to you, you and your sparks' with that little giggle she gave me that spark making the beast let out a howl and find his wolfish grin hidden within the disappearing sorrow, just for her.
'Come, come dog, lots of things to do, don't you worry your pretty little head about anything, dogs were always better then vampires.'
Oh yes, I believe I won't be missing Isabella Swan for years to come, all thanks to one damaged werewolf lover.