This is an idea that I used for my English class not to long ago. We were asked to read a book and (for extra credit) take any point of view of the story and write anything. Whether it was something before or after or even during the book. The only real thing I questioned when I finished the book was what was Hannah's last moments. This might be really short, but this is what I believed to be Hannah's last moments. Enjoy. (Also, picture by NicolexIsxManic on DeviantArt)
I was sorry. I turned off the old recorder as a tear slipped down my cheek. This was it. My last moments. I, Hannah Baker, was going to kill myself. Tomorrow would be normal for everyone else in this stupid town, but I was going to kill myself. Everyone else had let me go. Now was my turn.
I shook my head and took one last look at Mr. Porter's door. I had reached out for help. He was my last and final hope. Didn't he see that?
Wiping the tear from my face, I took out the map I've been working on. This was the second one. The original was at home in a box that was almost ready to be sent to the mail. Right beside it was another box that would be sent to a friend's house. Lucky him. Again, I shook my head and tried to decide on where I would spend my last few moments before I go home to finish the tapes. Or my life. Which ever comes first.
"The park sounds nice," I spoke softly to myself. No one would notice if I just went to the park. There I could start playing my normal game. How was I going to kill myself?
I had the base figured out. My answer was held in pills. White little capzles that were normally harmless in my bathroom. Though I wasn't for sure which one would kill me. Could Advil kill me if I took more than the recommended dosage? Maybe there was some medication lost all the way in the back that was older than my grandparents. If I was lucky, that would kill me.
My thoughts swirled around as I left the school parking lot, not caring if I walked in the line of a school camera. Who really cares when you are going to die the next day? Then another thought popped into my head. What if I fail? The basic part of dying is to die. Failing to kill myself would make me more than just a failure. I could just hear it now talking about what happened. Rumors would spread like wildfire. "Hannah Baker is a stupid slut failure." "Did you know that she tried to kill herself after school?" "Took about a kagillion pills, but they were nothing but baby aspirins." "Bet she didn't even want to kill herself." "Attention whore."
I grit my teeth as I took a seat on the nearest swing. Nothing was going to stop this. I can't end up in some kind of mental ward. That wouldn't help me. I've thought about going there before, but it would only spread more rumors. My parents couldn't afford that either. They owned a shoe store. I worked at a movie theatre. There would be no way we could afford that.
So, I have to kill myself. It's my only answer.
My eyes flew down to the cassette player at my feet. For every night, when my parents are asleep up in their bedroom, I rushed down to the garage with my list and told every story as I remembered it. Every moment that sent me to this downward spiral. The good and the bad got mixed together and I couldn't untangle it. I couldn't untangle the people who I had let down from the people who let me down. The tapes will be my last blow.
Maybe the tapes will do nothing and be let out anyway. What kind of difference would that make? Maybe it will stop people from leaving others. I didn't get the chances that people wanted to help me.
Today is my last day. My last day alive. How will I enjoy it? Maybe I will just stay here. Sleep on the soft grass. Nothing is stopping me. I've never felt so free before. I feel so free and alive when I know I am going to die.
For the first time in months, I let out a smile and a laugh as I thrust my swing and close my eyes. I will let go of myself today. It will be beautiful.