A/N: As some may have noticed, my writing is, most of the time, of the dark kind and this story will follow the same pattern. Maybe I'll try and write a great romance one day, but for now, angst is everything I love. I have decided to go with a lesbian pairing for this story, but have yet to decide between Hannily and Spanna as I love both equally, so I am going to leave it open for voting!

This story will contain themes of abuse, depression, self-harm, mentions of eating disorders and many other dark things I cannot think of at this time. Apologies in advance! This is just a short prologue to see if anyone wants me to continue or if it's utterly terrible and should never go further than this. Let me know what you think in the reviews and who you think the other girl should be!

Disclaimer: The characters and the show belongs to Pretty Little Liars, I own nothing other than the storyline of this story.

"I hate them for not being in pain like me, hate them for being able to enjoy themselves. Hate myself for feeling that way." - Chevy Stevens

Fourteen years of her life had led to the small smile on her face as she watched the man she loathed walk out of the door. Tears fell down her mothers face, but the smile remained on Hanna's, her arms folded and her body leaned up against the nearest wall. He was leaving, of his own accord, to reign his hell down on some other woman and her child. She was entirely certain and completely hopeful that he would never come back, and even more hopeful that her mother wouldn't take him back. Then again, Hanna had seen her father storm out after a huge argument that had left the woman bleeding and bruised, laying on the ground, only to come back two hours later into the same woman's open arms.

"Good riddance." She muttered, mostly to herself, ignoring the glare her mother sent her way the moment the door had closed. Ashley didn't blame her completely, but Hanna knew there was that slight bitter resentment that would drive a wedge between them. Hanna was glad he was gone, but she could tell her mother was terrified – she had a job, but she had never sought a chance to climb the career ladder because he had always been holding her back and thus, she was stuck. Stuck in a home she couldn't afford on her own, stuck with a daughter Hanna was adamant she only had because she thought it would save her marriage, stuck in a life she had probably never wanted a newly divorced, single mother.

Another word was not exchanged between the two, which was fine with Hanna because she couldn't think of a single word she wanted to say to her. At fourteen years old, she told herself she would never be as weak as the woman she had grown up with – the woman who had watched as the man who was meant to love them and protect them more than anyone else in the world, abused them both.

By the time she was fifteen years old, she was more bitter than she had been the year previous, as she wondered what the hell could be so wrong with her and her mother that her father would only be the man of her nightmares towards them. She had seen him with the beautiful brunette, who had a daughter around her own age, they were laughing and smiling, his arm was wrapped around her before his lips pressed against her cheek. It all seemed so natural, so real... Hanna had been looking for the signs she had been so sure would be there, that look in their eyes to see how much pain was hidden in them but instead, she had only seen happiness. The happiness that always lacked the family she had known for so long.

The teenager would watch as her mother would come home with the next one night stand, the flitting affair that would come and go and leave the woman a little happier than she had been before. Still, Hanna would sit there and wonder if either of them were ever destined to be happy. She may have only been a teenager, but Hanna was certain she had seen more pain than she thought possible, and more pain than any of her best friends would ever know about. There was everything that was hidden behind closed doors and then there was the gossip that people would talk about as she walked past them in the hallway. She had the misfortune of being the best friend of the missing girl, and then the missing girl turned dead girl.

At fifteen years old, she had seen things no one could have imagined but she held them back. The walls she put up was enough to keep everyone away from her, even the people she had been friends with the year before. Alison had brought them all together and her going missing had forced them all apart; Aria had moved to an entirely new country, Spencer was off being her brilliant self, and she was almost as much of a loner as Hanna was and Emily had her swimming to focus on. Each of them had their own lives, their own friends, their own things to focus on. Hanna would often find herself wondering if this was the worst thing that had happened to the other three – if their best friend being found murdered, was going to be the worst thing they had seen when Hanna really wished it was.

If she was being honest, she was jealous of Ali. She always had been. Whether the other blonde had been alive or dead, Hanna was still jealous of her. Her perfect family, her perfect life, her don't care about anything or anyone else kind of attitude that Hanna had longed to have, and then she had gone missing, and then it turned out she had been killed. And god, Hanna would have done anything to just not exist, even Alison had beaten her to that.

It wasn't the first time Hanna had found herself sitting on the bridge in the middle of the night, but it was the first time someone had joined her there. Her legs hung over the edge and she stared down at the water, not saying a word to the person who was sitting next to her. She had questions, so many questions about why an earth she would be there because wasn't her life perfect? Wasn't everyone's life perfect except her own? Maybe that kind of thinking was selfish but Hanna had grown up watching families from a distance, trying to find similarities to her own. If she had ever found one, she wondered if she would feel as much of an outsider as she did at the moment. She watched girls in school fighting over who was going to be Prom Queen and she was internally fighting over whether she actually wanted to put any effort into going to college or if she was going to kill herself before she got the chance.

Since Alison had gone missing the year before, she had spent most of her time alone. She had never felt as though she had belonged in that group; the other girls had been perfect in every way possible. They were beautiful, smart, happy and normal. Hanna longed to be normal. She still had no idea why Alison had picked her to be part of that group but she always supposed it was to make her look good, there always had to be one ugly one in the group, right? Just to make the rest of the group look even more perfect than they already were. Hefty Hanna had very quickly decided she was the comparison tool, the person used to make the other person next to her look like the even better choice. And that was why she was better off alone, even if she did miss the friends she had made.

Hanna sighed and she kept her eyes focused on the water, as she thought about everything that was stopping her from jumping. Perhaps it was just the way her fingers brushed against the other girls that kept her connected to the rest of the world, or the hope that one day everything would be better. Finally, she took a deep breath, and her eyes moved to the person next to her, a small smile on her face.

At six years old, Hanna had thought she was going to die for the very first time – she had tried to stop her father from hitting her mother and instead, had been knocked back, her head had hit the side of the dining room table and there had been so much blood. She had told herself that would be it, she was going to die and surprisingly, she hadn't been scared.

At ten years old, she had cried as she laid next to her mother who didn't appear to be breathing. She convinced herself that the woman was dead and whilst she had felt sad, there was also the undercoating of complete jealousy that Hanna would never be able to forget.

At twelve years old, she had hit her father back for the first time and she had enjoyed it when he had snapped back at her. It had hurt like hell but it had been the first time in so long since she had felt something other than actual pain. The hurt was still there but she felt vindicated, she felt as though she had a purpose and that involved pushing him as far from her life as much as she could.

And at fourteen years old, he had walked out of her life and she had told him to never come back and she felt satisfied for the first time. Alison was gone, he was gone and she no longer had to pretend to be someone she wasn't.

And then at fifteen years old, she turned to the one person she felt could understand that, with a smile on her face, "When we're eighteen years old, and we still find ourselves coming back to this bridge, still thinking of just jumping over and ending it all, let's do it." She told her in a confident voice that hid everything she was actually feeling right then – voicing her suicidal thoughts out loud to a person who may not have felt the same way she did.

There was relief when the other girl nodded her head, and their hands touched properly for the first time. "It's a promise." She spoke, and Hanna watched her eyes carefully, looking for any sign of hesitation. They had three years to see if life was going to get any better, but that was three more years of high school, three more years in Rosewood, three more years to struggle through but three more years that could end up with her standing at the bridge, with someone who felt the same way as she did. Hanna wanted to die, more than anything, but she didn't want to die alone. Perhaps that was selfish of her, but she had spent her entire life alone, she didn't want the last few seconds of that being spent the same.

"Should we shake on it?" The nervous voice followed, and Hanna laughed, her eyes glancing over at the other girl, before she bit down on her lip and then leaned forward a little more, "Or we can seal it with a kiss." She whispered, her eyes hopeful but still, protected, terrified of the rejection she was certain would follow. Instead, another word wasn't passed between them, their lips pressed together and thus, the promise was sealed.