***Disclaimer: all belongs to Stephenie; I just wanna play with her toys.***
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Asphyxia
He carried the guilt in a pocket, where he honed its sharp edges with a nail, willing the metal to resist and flay his fingertips, so he could pay for his lie. The one that was constricting around his neck and had stripped him of articulate speech, when he dared to beg for relief from the vacuum he created in leaving her. The lie that became a mantra.
I don't want. I don't want. I don't want.
"Bella," he breathed, the cold, dry plea mixing with venom in his mouth.
I don't want to live without you.
Finally, the truth.