Clay's point of view.
Hannah.
There she is, stuffing a chemistry book into her locker. Hannah has this thing: she looks like, sounds like and is like nobody else. Hannah Baker is just Hannah Baker, I'm thinking, as I automatically start heading towards her. Today is a sunny day. Instead of going home right away, I could probably ask her if she wants to hang out a little bit, or…
Suddenly, I can hear laughter around me. Somebody hells : « Slut! , » as they are looking at where Hannah is standing. I wonder why, still determined to join her. A girl points at Hannah, and another throws a paper ball at her.
Why would they do that?
As I'm about to react, I see that Hannah is starting to move; in a second, she runs away. « Hannah… wait, » I say, but she doesn't seem to hear me. I try catching up to her, but it feels like I'm not moving. I call her again : « Hannah! , » louder this time. Some guy wearing a blue jacket from our school tells me to let her go. No, not way!I can't let Hannah down, I have to be there for her.
« Why weren't you there for me when I killed myself, then? » I'm stunned. Now it's just Hannah and I, in a room. That one room, in Jessica's house. The one where I… « The room where you left me to die ,» annonces Hannah, calmly. No sound comes out of my mouth, but I want to answer. Tears start feeling my eyes. I want to tell her that I didn't mean to, that I always loved her. Hannah begins to breathe heavily. « That wasn't enough, » she tells me, gritting her teeth together. I feel my heart dropping into my chest. As I lower my eyes, I see it : her bleeding wrists. Blood, pouring everywhere. I try getting up but my body doesn't react. Why is this happening? Why didn't I stop her? Excruciated with pain, Hannah cries : « It's all your fault, Clay! »
Clay Jensen woke up and immediately felt the need to throw up. The boy was sitting on his bed, trying to restrain himself, still in a deep confusion. His t-shirt was dripping with sweat, the room felt too warm for him.
What was this all about? Hannah had been haunting his days and now she was taking over his sleep? He fucking knew! He knew he was responsible, he thought about it all the time, feeling more guilty each and every day. Now, he felt like yelling, screaming all the wrath out of him. He needed to get out, far from this hostile room.
Clay had thrown on the first clothes he found and run out the door. For a while he had ridden his bike, determined to join Hannah. Clay had this habit : from time to time, when everything felt wrong, he went to the cemetery. However, it was usually after school, not at 3 o'clock in the morning. As he grabbed his bicycle, rain started pouring. Not that he cared; it actually cooled him down. The night's cold wind seemed to soothe him, and for an instant, he felt nothing at all.