robbers (sequel) billie eilish

writer in the dark (part one)

A/N: fuck. i'm crying so bad reading billie's rolling stone interview. it's like, idk how to try and be okay when the person i look up to the most is struggling too. and it was just super triggering too and i thought i was done with things but i guess not anymore now. anyways --

inspo: writer in the dark, lorde

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I am my mother's child, I'll love you till my breathing stops

Billie's POV:

"Hannah," I shake her shoulders, but she still hasn't dropped the gun, hasn't torn her eyes off of him. I try and pry her fingers off of the handle, but they tighten around it, and I back away a bit.

"Please, we need to go," I beg, feeling scared for her.

"I did this," she whispers, her hands shake uncontrollably, and the gun falls to the floor. I kick it across the room and move closer to try and pull her away, but her hands shove me away. I try to not let it phase me, but I'm not okay. We're not okay.

"Which is why we need to go, please listen to me," I urge, taking a step towards her, while Hannah takes one away from me. The distance is an ocean every time I want to cross, tides push me back to the start. But I keep hopelessly swimming to reach her, to meet her in the middle. Only she won't even dip her toes in the water.

"No."

"No, what?" I grow annoyed, needing something more. We're wasting time and if I don't get us out of here, it'll really be over. All we've ever done is prolong the end of our story, but I want to add more chapters. I want there to be a happily ever after and an epilogue of us five years in the future. But I don't know how to get us there when I keep writing and she keeps tearing out the pages.

"You were gonna do it. You said you'd kill for me. I did it so you couldn't," Hannah looks up at the ceiling, a faint smile on her face.

"Please don't break down now, not here. Let's go back home and you can scream at me and cry until you have no more tears left. We need to fucking go, right now," I snap, not caring anymore. I walk over to her when she takes off running, into the bathroom and slams the door shut behind her. I reach for the handle just as I hear the lock clicking from the other side.

"I did it at the prison, and I did it now. You don't get it Billie, you can walk away free from everything because I'm the one who did it. I'm the one who killed for you," I hear her shout and I press my forehead against the door, pounding on it with my fist. I fall to the floor, collapsing into tears, until my fist is black and blue from banging it against the door that she won't open.

"Please," I cry, not caring if I sound desperate or weak, because right now, I am. When I don't hear a response, I press my ear to the door and hear the sound of her phone dialing.

"Hannah, stop!" I scream, shaking the handle and crying so hard I can't see anything but a blurry sheen of lifeless colors.

"I killed somebody... No, I'm alone," Hannah's voice slips under the crack in the door. I pull my knees into my chest and cover up my mouth with my hands, muffling the sound of me breaking down. I keep my eyes closed, waiting for this to be over.

It's all my fault. It's all my fault. It's all my fault.

Hannah gently opens up the door a crack and I turn around, pressing my palm against it to open it the rest of the way. She's curled up in a ball, and my eyes fall on the phone in her hands, blinking from an ended call. There are only three numbers on the screen: 9 1 1.

"What did you do?" I choke over the question, but we both know what she did. I want to know why.

"You need to go. You can't be here when they take me away," she says matter-of-fact, staring blankly at the bathroom tiles. I dive into her and hold her in my arms, but she gives no reciprocation. Hannah feels like a limp doll in my grasp, and no matter how hard I shake her to wake up, she won't come to life.

"Why?" I sob, and she finally raises her chin to lock eyes with me.

"Because I made you lose everything you worked for. And now I'm giving it back to you," she whispers, a sad smile across her lips.

"How--"

"I'll take the blame for all of it, I brainwashed you and tricked you into believing we were real. Now you'll be able to go back to who you were before I ruined your life," Hannah cuts me off and explains. My chin shakes from trying not to cry harder, and I shake my head back and forth.

"No! I don't want anything except you, please there's still time, we can run away again," I plead on my knees, feeling my hair stick to my forehead when I drop my head into her lap. Hannah runs her fingers through my hair and leans down to kiss the top of my head.

"We can't keep running. You need to let go, okay? Walk away and don't come back, promise me," Hannah rejects my offers and gives me hers instead. I raise my head up and try to kiss her but she turns her head to the side, and I fall back against the floor.

"I can't. I won't," I refuse, but she stands and slips her arms underneath my elbows, dragging me to my feet. I barely put any effort into walking, trying to weigh her down, to do anything to keep her with me.

We make it to the door and she pushes me to stand on the doorstep, closing it almost all the way before I can turn around and push it back. Hannah looks at me through the little space in the doorway with tears glistening in her eyes.

"Sorry I was never good like you," she whispers, then closes the door. I want to pound on it and beg and do anything for her to listen, but we both know it's too late for that. I start to stumble down the sidewalk when I hear sirens in the distance. I can't leave her, but I can't stay with someone who doesn't want me to.

My feet pound against the pavement until I've ran away far enough that I can't feel her presence, only in my head and in my heart. She has the power to make me feel on top of the world and completely heartbroken and defeated. There's never an in-between.

I crumple to the ground and cry harder than I ever have before, feeling empty. I should've seen the signs, should've said something about the guilt she wore on her sleeve so openly. I thought since we both felt guilty, it would balance things out. I was so fucking naive.

Love isn't supposed to be this hard. The worst part of all of this is knowing that no matter how much I love Hannah, it isn't enough. I've run out of ink, and there's no paper left to write on.

I have nothing left. All I have is Hannah's heart, and she has mine. I want it back, I want her to make it beat again.

I lay back on the ground, staring up at the sky and feeling it hurt all over again, stronger each time. There's only one thing I can do now. I pull out my phone and don't think as my finger hovers over a name I haven't called, haven't spoken to out of fear it would blow our cover. Wiping away tears with my sleeve, I press call, breaking down again when I hear their voice.

"Billie?"

"Mom?"

I love you till you call the cops on me...