Disclaimer: Twilight? Belongs to SM. Famous Last Words? MINE. And hers.

A/N: She couldn't sleep. Maybe she doesn't like warm milk? Who are we to judge?

*This is for my princess HotSexyRobsten. It was her birthday a few days ago. Just like Bella. Sorry it's late, babe. And... well, you can decide if I should be sorry for anything else.

**And btw... there may be some sexual content up ahead. And some violence. Something. Rated M and all that shit.

Now... Take it away, Bella!

Chapter Four: Famous Last Words

Why do they walk away?

Turn their backs?

Leave us waiting.

Hurting.

Why is it so easy for them?

And so hard for us?

...

We stay.

We try.

We fight.

They walk.

Whether we see or don't.

Whether we're begging them with pleading eyes or peacefully unaware behind closed lids.

They turn.

They walk.

Slither.

Creep.

Abandon.

Leave tears.

Behind.

...

We wait.

I waited.

We cry.

I cried.

She's still sitting there...

Crying.

Left behind with only her tears.

Left.

Alone.

Abandoned.

...

I watch as he strolls to his car without a care in the world.

Not a single thought of what he left behind.

Waiting.

Hurting.

Her.

He doesn't think of her.

Out of sight...

Out of mind.

Out.

...

He's parked right next to my car in the dark lot.

He looks up as I approach.

He smiles.

I look back to the door.

Wanting her to come through it.

He doesn't.

He doesn't look.

He doesn't want.

Her.

And she doesn't come.

...

He speaks.

To me.

Not her.

Me.

"A beautiful woman like you shouldn't be going home alone."

Neither should she... "And what would you suggest a beautiful woman like me be doing instead?"

"Going home with me."

Asshole. She's only feet away... "Is that right?"

"It is."

"Well, I'm not really the kind of woman that likes to do what people think I should do." Anymore.

"I respect that."

Liar.

"So, what do you like to do?"

What do I like to do? No one has asked me that for a very long time. No one has cared. This asshole doesn't either, but...

Do I even know the answer? I know what I used to like to do. Before.

Now...

Now I just want...

To feel.

Good.

Bad, even.

Just...

Feel.

Something.

"Different things."

"Well, then you're in luck. I'm different."

No, you're not. You're all the same. "So, you're suggesting that I do you?"

"Absolutely."

What a dick... "And I should want to because?"

"Simply put... I'm a great fuck."

You're a fuck, that much is true... "You all think you are."

"Fair enough. Some guys are all talk, I'm sure. I'm not one of them. Let me prove it to you."

"And if you can't?"

"Oh, I don't know... you can punish me."

Now we're on the same page... "Give me your address. Maybe I'll show up and do just that."

I watch as he leans into his car without hesitation and opens the glove box. He pulls out a pen and a small notepad and jots down his address. His expression is cocky as he walks around to where I stand at my own car and holds it out to me. I glance back to the door of the bar where pain waits for him inside. His eyes never leave me.

He doesn't care about her pain.

I bet she'll care about his.

...

He never once looked back.

He only looked ahead.

To me.

To the road as he pulled out.

To what he thought would come to his door.

To moving on.

But he won't.

He won't move on.

His own door is as far as he'll get.

Inside.

He won't come out again.

...

An hour later I drive by his apartment. Lights are on inside.

He's waiting.

For me.

It's late. The rest of the block is dark.

At peace.

There are no other cars parked in front of his place. His is the only one.

She didn't come.

Because still she waits.

Like I did.

But she won't wait as long.

Won't hope day after day for something that will never come back to her.

She won't suffer waiting.

Like I did.

Her pain will be quick.

Then she'll move on.

Quicker.

...

I park a few blocks away and walk.

No one is on the street.

I'm alone.

No...

Not alone.

There's something.

Inside.

Alive.

Breathing.

Waiting.

Like him.

...

The door is slightly ajar when I reach it. I don't have to touch it.

He was confident.

Too confident.

I nudge it open with the tip of my boot.

I see him immediately.

Sitting in a chair with a direct view of the door.

Sitting.

Kicked back.

Relaxed.

Cocky.

Assuming.

Careless.

I step just far enough inside to knock the door closed with my elbow.

He smiles. "Welcome."

A wide open invitation.

One he'll regret making.

I smile at that, not him.

But he doesn't know that.

"Come in, get comfortable." He pats his leg.

If I wanted to sit, his lap would be my only option. The place is a sty.

"I'm good for now."

"Scared of something?"

You should be. I shake my head in response.

He's perplexed but doesn't waste time on it. "Thirsty?" He holds up a bottle of whiskey. There's an empty glass next to him. His is in his other hand.

I find my voice again. "Not yet. But it's good that you are."

"Why is that?"

"I made getting me here easy for you. You'll have to earn anything else you want."

"Is that right?"

"Yes it is." Even men on death row get a last meal.

"And if I decide I'm not thirsty anymore?"

Then you'll die without one. "You won't."

"You're confident. I like that."

Oh, just you wait...

"And you're right, so if you brought me something to drink, come over here and open up the tap."

Lucky fuck. "I'll open it, but you have to come over here to get a drink."

He's intrigued by the game. He's up and walking towards me.

He reaches for my face. I shake my head.

"I don't get a kiss?"

I shake my head again.

He's revisiting perplexed. He doesn't get it. Women always want to be kissed. Don't they?

No, asshole, not all. "Knees."

He drops to them instantly. Obedient little fuck...

I'm almost too disgusted by it to let him...

But not quite.

Obedient is getting overanxious. He reaches for the button of my jeans.

I smack his hands away. "Don't touch."

He really doesn't understand. Not that he should, I suppose...

I pop the button and slide down the zipper. He smiles.

It will probably be his last.

I push my jeans and panties over my hips and down, but not off. He licks his lips.

You're not worthy, but you'll pay for that, too. "Mine taste better, I assure you."

"I don't doubt that for a second."

"Then get to it before I change my mind."

"Whatever you say." He reaches for my hips this time.

I smack his hands away again. "MOUTH ONLY."

"Okay. Just tell me your name first."

Since I'm toying with him anyway... "Nalah."

"Like the lion in that Disney movie?"

Not even close, you clueless fuck... "Your tongue should be moving but I shouldn't be hearing it. Cut the chit chat."

He laughs.

My brows lift in warning and I grab him by the hair.

He stops.

I yank his head and bring his mouth to me.

He groans.

And digs in to his last meal like he knows.

But he doesn't.

He can't.

Yet he does...

You'd think the man was starving.

Maybe he was.

Or just insatiable...

Isn't that why I'm here?

Indirectly speaking?

Because he needed too much?

It's almost a shame that I'm going to kill him...

His tongue is worthy of a pardon.

Really. Fucking. Worthy.

He licks.

He sucks.

He whirls.

And twirls.

Figure fucking eights...

The Stars on Ice have fewer moves.

Salchows and axels got nothin on this doomed son of a bitch's tongue...

And I thought my birthday was over.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!

I brace myself against his mouth.

I lose it.

Hard.

Shaking legs.

Thumping heart.

Braced.

I try to get my bearings.

Back.

My focus.

Back.

Focus.

Oh...

Fuck.

What was I thinking?

Houston, we have a problem!

Supertongue just had a shower... with my DNA!

Really. Not. Good.

Well, it was, but...

Plan awry! Plan awry!

Okay... all is not lost. Fluids, yes, but not all.

I'll just have to improvise.

"My turn."

What?

He dropped his pants. Really fucking fast...

Nice try, drippy... forgot you were here for a minute there.

But a nice segue, nonetheless... "It's only fair, I suppose."

"And you can use your hands."

Yeah, to pull up my pants. For you... tweezers.

Poor drippy. No wonder he's so good with his tongue, HE HAS TO BE! Maybe he meant to say he was a really great suck?

I don't even bother trying to hide my pity. Or amusement... "I'll take care of you, though I think one hand will more than suffice. Now, all you have to do is take a shower. Then it's your turn." Wash me off, asshole... then you'll get yours. Cross my cold, dead heart.

"You're awfully demanding. And for the record, looks can be deceiving."

If you only knew... "It'll be worth it. A night to remember. I promise." For me...

"Well, since you promise... "

"Brush your teeth, too... remove all traces of me, and maybe you'll even get a kiss."

"Yes, ma'am. Now are you going to stand in front of that door all night?"

"No. Actually... if you run along like a good boy, I might even join you in a minute."

That's right... just like that...

Crisis averted.

My heart starts to beat fast again as I watch him turn his back.

Walk away.

For the last time.

But this time, what he leaves behind him doesn't cry.

Doesn't wait.

Doesn't stay.

I follow.

After a moment.

I stop a few feet from the bathroom door and listen.

I can hear him brushing his teeth.

Just like I told him to.

Another moment later, the shower curtain draws back and the water starts. The curtain draws closed again.

With him inside.

I move.

Back down the hall to the small kitchen.

To the butcher block on the counter.

I pull my gloves from my jacket pockets.

Slide them on.

Wrap my gloved hand around a handle.

Slide it out.

Excitement courses through me.

The clawing returns.

Pushes me down the hall.

Propels me forward.

Into the steam-filled bathroom.

"You ready for me?"

The clawing says yes.

So does he.

"Close your eyes, I have something special for you."

He's obedient. I know he's done as he was told.

I draw the curtain back.

He speaks. For what may be the last time.

"Don't you want to know my name?"

No... "If you want to tell me."

"I'm Paul."

How unfortunate for you. Famous last words, indeed.

I reach around him and slice the knife across his throat.

Then I shove it into his back.

Leave it there.

Draw the curtain closed as he hits the tub floor.

It was nice to meet you, Paul. The pleasure was all mine...

This time.

...

Cue evil laugh...