I've previously been criticised for using 'unoriginal' titles in my work. For example, my 'Breaking Down' story was criticised because the title was similar to 'Breaking Dawn', despite it being set in the time of 'New Moon'. However, I'll risk a little more criticism by naming this one with some of the lines uttered by Bella in 'New Moon'.
xoxoxo
I allowed my cell to drop from my grasp and fall to the ground. I didn't even know if I'd ended the call. I didn't care. My Bella...dead...Because of me. I had caused this. I had left her, I had forced her to jump off that God-for-saken cliff. I had, effectively, ended her life. I could vaguely hear Rosalie's voice echoing from the end of my cell, but I was in too much of a state to answer her, even if I had wanted to. I tried to pull myself together, and, eventually, realised that I didn't have any proof that Bella was actually dead. I just had Rosalie's word, and that was derived by one of Alice's visions, which I knew could change. I reached down and retrieved the cell, ending the call to Rosalie and dialling a different number, waiting anxiously for a reply. If she answered - and I prayed that she did - I would hang up immediately. I wouldn't hurt her - and myself - more than I already had by striking up a conversation with her. And if Charlie answered...well, I would beg him for the truth. I was getting impatient when someone finally answered. It wasn't a voice I recognised.
"Is Chief Swan home?" I imitated my father's voice perfectly - maybe, if Charlie was home, he would be more obliged to answer Carlisle than me.
"No, he's at the funeral." The unfamiliar voice answered me, crushing me and, effectively, ending my world. Again, I let the cell drop to the ground, again not caring whether or not the call was ended. Before today, there had been a chance, no matter how small, that Bella would forgive me and take me back. I had been on my way to Forks, and I would have arrived in no more than a couple of days. Now, it was as though my existence no longer had a reason. I had been planning on running back to Forks and begging Bella to take me back. I'd had enough of existing without her. And now, I would never see that sweet smile, hear her laugh, smell her delicious blood...The last thought made my throat burn - not with thirst - but with sorrow. I'd became so immune to the smell of her blood in the last few months we were together, that I didn't think I would miss it too much when I eventually had to leave her. In reality, of course, I had. And now, I would never again be able to smell it, when it were there in front of me, preferably safe in my arms. She would never be in my arms again. And it was all my fault. By leaving her, I had put her in more danger than I ever could have known. I didn't deserve to live. No, not live. Exist. I didn't deserve to exist. In the few seconds that all of the thoughts had crossed my mind, I had made my decision. I didn't bother to pick up my cell - I wouldn't need it where I was headed. My plan was already forming in my head. I was going to Italy. I was going to beg the Volturi for death.