So I've found that listening to Halsey Radio throughout the day makes me really want to write PLL stories. I heard the song "Pretty Hurts" by Beyonce, and it's honestly so great. If you haven't heard it, or watched the music video (I seriously had chills), I'd recommend it. :) I'm going to put a trigger warning for EDs, to be safe. Hope you like it. :)
"What does Kate have that I don't?"
Hanna's crying, bent over the bathroom sink in her father's Annapolis summer home. Her parents had forced her to come on vacation with Mr. Marin, his fiancée, and Kate- her perfect, size 0 daughter. She'd begged Ali to come along, hoping, praying, that she would help to keep her company and away from Kate, but she was wrong. The second they arrived in Maryland, it was like Alison and Kate had formed some inseparable bond. A pretty girl bond, is what she told her mom when she called, begging to come home.
He called me 'little piggie,' Hanna cried over the phone. It was without a doubt the single most humiliating moment of her life. She polished off a huge bowl of Doritos, all by herself, and her father, in front of everyone, grabbed her pinkie toe and had the audacity to say "is the little piggie not feeling good?"
She shot up off of the poolside chaise as fast as she could and nearly ran into the house. Surprisingly, Ali was quick to follow behind her. She's the one that handed the toothbrush to Hanna. She's the one that told her what to do. She's the only one, in Hanna's mind, that actually cares enough to help her.
"Fix your hair, brush your teeth," Ali instructs from behind her. She rubs her back as Hanna splashes water over her face, trying to erase any evidence that she's been crying.
"I can't believe I just did that," Hanna whispers, disgust and shame washing over her. Her self-esteem is shattered, and there's no piecing it back together. She's tired of her imperfection. Her imperfection as a friend, as a student, as a daughter.
"How do you do it?"
Her friend shrugs. "Pretty hurts, Han. But it's worth the pain."
She has her doubts. Her throat burns and her stomach aches, but it's nothing compared to the emotional pain she's in. She can't imagine going through another day of this torment- not only being branded by Ali's nickname, but realizing that she will never be good enough for her father. Not until she's skinny, anyway. He's made it obvious that he loves Kate more than her, at least in her eyes. She's constantly asking herself, why does he love her more than me? She knows the list is endless, but she focuses on one main, obvious difference between them: Kate's skinny. She's beautiful, and Hanna's not.
"Are you sure this is okay?"
Ali gives her an encouraging smile. "Of course. I hate seeing you so upset over something that's such an easy fix. You'll thank me later."
You'll thank me later.
Hanna hears Ali's voice in her ear as she leaves the Rosewood High bathroom stall. There is nothing to thank Ali for. She berates herself for even listening to her. While she's transformed herself into the school's "it girl," it's not worth it. The emotional damage that this has caused outweighs the benefits of her new outwards appearance. On the outside, she has it all: the looks, the name brand clothes, the friends, but on the inside?
She's empty.
Hanna turns down the hall to join her friends in the cafeteria. She wipes the corners of her mouth and pops a few Listerine strips. She hopes it's enough; she doesn't want her friends to know. Hanna doesn't need their pity. Alison's was enough, and look where that's gotten her.
"Hey," she says, trying her best to sound cheerful. She pulls out a chair and sits down at the table, trying to ignore their questioning stares.
"What?" She asks, putting her purse on the wooden surface.
"You're not getting lunch?" Aria asks, and Hanna shakes her head.
"I forgot my wallet at home," she lies. The petite brunette rifles through her tote bag before pulling out a five dollar bill, and she passes it across the table.
Hanna declines her offer. "Thanks, but I'm really not that hungry."
Aria raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, urging her to explain.
"My mom made a huge breakfast this morning. I'm still really full."
She shrugs and goes back to her own lunch, accepting Hanna's blatant lie.
Spencer eyes her suspiciously; something's wrong. She continues to eat her salad, blindly stabbing her fork through the soggy lettuce, as she continues watch Hanna. Something feels off to her, and she has a feeling that her friend's not being truthful.
"So, what took you so long?" Emily asks through a mouthful of her sandwich.
Hanna's stomach growls when she sees Emily take another bite. Even the horrifically bland cafeteria food is enough to make her mouth water. She's starving. She hasn't eaten a proper meal in over a week, and whatever she has eaten, she empties not soon after.
"I told you in English I'd catch up with you. I had to go to the bathroom."
"You were gone for twenty minutes."
Hanna squirms nervously in her seat. "Um, there were a lot of people."
It wasn't a complete lie; she had to wait. She had to be sure everyone was gone. She'd made that mistake once, and she didn't know how many times she could pass this off as food poisoning. Although it was a pretty reasonable excuse, considering the quality of the school's food.
"Hanna," Spencer tries to say, but she interrupts her.
"So did you guys understand what Fitz wants us to do for this stupid project?"
Spencer sighs, but listens as Emily and Aria explain. She watches Hanna, noticing that she seems a bit preoccupied. Hanna feels her eyes on her and glances down at the table, trying to avoid her stare. She's nervous; she can tell that Spencer can see through her: the façade, the lies, and her smile. She's intuitive. Hanna knows that she'll eventually be able to figure it out, so she needs to do everything and anything she can to stop her from doing so.
She's quiet for the rest of lunch, trying to distract herself from her aching stomach. Her head throbs and she feels woozy, as if she'd collapse any second. She hopes that no one else can tell how awful she's feeling, but of course someone can. And she isn't necessarily surprised.
When the bell rings a few minutes later, Hanna's the first to jump up, eager to get away. She staggers backwards a bit and grabs onto the wooden table to try to steady herself. Spencer jumps up just as fast and grabs onto her wrist, forcing her to stay put.
"Can I talk to you about something?"
"Can't it wait? I really need to get to class."
"No, it can't," she tells her, and Hanna flinches. She can't talk about it- she isn't ready. She'll never be ready.
Spencer looks up at her friends. "You guys can go, we'll catch up with you later," she tells them. They seem to get the hint and they scurry away from the table.
"When did your mom learn how to cook?" she asks and Hanna's stomach drops.
"Um, she-" she tries to lie on the spot, but she can't. She knows she's been caught.
"Hanna," Spencer scolds, but her face softens when she notices her friend's bottom lip start to tremble. She feels so conflicted. Part of her wants to tell Spencer. She hates keeping this all to herself. She already struggles with the weight of so many secrets, and she doesn't know how much longer she can keep this one.
But she has to. If her friend finds out, Hanna will never be able to achieve the beauty and perfection that she's worked so hard for over the past couple of years; Spencer would never allow it.
"Hey," she soothes. "Talk to me."
She can see the tears starting to form in her eyes, and she's even more worried. Spencer perks up a bit when she sees Hanna open her mouth to explain, but frowns when she hears a small cry come from the back of her throat.
"I can't talk about this right now," she whispers, trying to stand up from the table. Everyone's cleared the cafeteria, and they're now alone. She's glad. She'd be mortified if everyone were to see her have a breakdown.
"Han," Spencer sighs, watching as her face crumples.
"Please," Hanna begs, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.
She holds her hand a few moments longer and debates whether or not to let her go. She's so worried, but isn't quite sure what to do. With a sigh, she reluctantly lets go of her wrist, and watches her walk out of the cafeteria's double doors.
"Spencer," Ms. Marin greets when she opens the door. Spencer's fist is in mid-air, as if she was about to knock on the door. "Hanna's upstairs, I was just on my way out."
"Thanks." she smiles and enters the house, taking the stairs up to Hanna's room. The door is wide open and she walks inside. Spencer looks around and notices that her bathroom door is shut, so she takes a seat on her perfectly-made bed to wait for her.
She stares blankly at the wall, trying to figure out how to even begin to start the conversation. Spencer doesn't know what Hanna's hiding- she doesn't know what to expect. She rehearses a few lines over and over in her head before crossing the spacious room to the closed door.
"Hanna?" she asks. She swears she can make out the sound of someone crying, but isn't sure. She hopes she's wrong.
"I know you're in there. Can you please open the door?"
"Spence, I-I can't talk about this right now."
"But you need to," she answers softly.
"It's unlocked," Hanna finally answers through a thick voice. Spencer quickly opens the door, and sighs when she sees her friend sitting on the bathroom floor. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her knees, and her head is thrown back against the pale blue wall. Hanna's dull, gray eyes are completely bloodshot, and they seem so vacant. Her long blonde hair is matted and pulled into a loose pony-tail at the nape of her neck. Black streaks stain her cheeks, and she makes a mental note to purchase water-proof mascara.
"Han?" Spencer asks, taking a seat across from her. She reaches out to grab her hand, hoping to comfort her.
Hanna keeps her gaze downcast. She knows the second she looks Spencer in the eyes, she'll lose it. The façade she worked so hard to build over the past two years would crumble in an instant.
"Sweetie, what's wrong?"
She shrugs and gives her a small, sad smile. "What isn't?"
"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" she coaxes.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
Hanna shakes her head, biting her lip to keep from crying.
"You can talk to me."
"I won't be able to take it back," she whispers.
"Take what back?"
"You'll never look at me the same. You'll think I'm…pathetic," she chokes out. "And I wouldn't blame you."
Spencer gives Hanna's hand a gentle squeeze. "You are not pathetic," she assures her. "And nothing you could ever do would make me think that."
"You say that now."
"Hey," Spencer starts to say, but something catches her attention out of the corner of her eye, stopping her mid-sentence.
"Hanna," she sighs, taking in the sight of the blue toothbrush lying next to the toilet. She picks it up and examines it, turning it over in her hands. The grip is worn and the bristles are frayed. She can tell that this has been going on for quite a while.
Hanna's heart races as she watches her. There's no escaping it. She can't run, she can't lie. So she cries.
"Come here," Spencer whispers, wrapping her arms around her. She holds her for a while and waits patiently for her to let out all of the emotions she's so obviously pent up.
Spencer feels terrible. How didn't she know something was wrong sooner? How did she not recognize the signs? Why didn't she say something earlier?
"When?" is all she can ask, and Hanna knows exactly what she means.
"Two years ago."
"Why?"
"Ali," she cries, and suddenly Spencer's furious. She's disgusted.
Hanna hiccups. "She-she thought she was helping."
"Of course she did," her friend answers angrily.
"I was so tired of being 'Hefty Hanna.' I wanted it to all go away. I just wanted to be pretty," she adds in a whisper.
"Hanna," she chokes out. "You were beautiful then, and you are beautiful now."
She shakes her head. "It's not enough. Do you know how hard it is to be beautiful when you're constantly being told by society that you're not? All these diets: South Beach, Atkins. They all have the same goal: lose weight. But Ali helped me find a faster way to do that."
"Hanna, those diets are not safe, and neither is this."
"I know," she cries. "But I-I can't stop."
"You can," Spencer corrects her. "We can fix this."
"You can't fix what you can't see."
She doesn't know what to say to that; she can't even imagine the amount of pain Hanna is in, both physically and emotionally.
"I just wanted to be perfect," Hanna whispers.
"What even is perfect?" Spencer asks. "There is no such thing as perfection."
"There is," Hanna argues. "Alison. Kate," she adds. Her quasi-stepsister contributes to a lot of her self-esteem issues. Kate always seems to best Hanna at everything: school, appearance. Hanna gets an A on a test? Kate gets an A+. Hanna's a size two? Kate's a 0. Hanna hasn't talked to her father in almost a year? Kate gets to see him every day.
Without a doubt, that last one is what upsets Hanna the most. Maybe, she thinks, if she's pretty like Kate, her father will love her again.
"Kate's a bitch, and so was Alison. Look what she's done to you."
She shakes her head. "I did this to myself."
"But she pushed you to."
Hanna's looks up at Spencer and feels her frail body shake as she tries to hold back a sob.
"What's wrong?"
"Pretty hurts."
She's in so much pain, and there's no escaping it. There isn't anything or anyone that can numb it. Her heart aches, and unbearably so. She walks around, an empty shell of herself. Every day is a constant struggle. Day in and day out, she seems to be at war with herself. And what's worse, every move she makes, she can hear a voice in the back of her head, criticizing her. She swears it's Alison's, and part of her knows that it's not healthy to listen to her, but another part, a much bigger part, doesn't care. She just wants to be beautiful, and she'll stop at nothing to get there.
Her friends are worried. Emily and Aria have picked up on the awkward exchanges between Hanna and Spencer, but neither knows what to say. They can see her deteriorate, both mentally and physically. She looks exhausted, and like she could burst into tears at any second.
Spencer's been keeping close watch on her ever since she found out, so Hanna begins to isolate herself. Every time she sees her, shame courses through her. The sad, almost pitying look in Spencer's eyes doesn't help, and she feels so guilty for dragging her into this mess. Hanna's afraid for her other friends to find out, for obvious reasons. She doesn't want their pity. Having Spencer's is enough. She doesn't them to worry about her. After all, why worry when nothing's wrong?
It's nothing.
She finds herself saying it more and more. She figures the more she says it, the more likely it is to become the truth. But she knows it couldn't be further from it.
Just fake it 'till you make it, she thinks, then flinches. Her ex-best friend, Mona, taught her that.
Always remember these two things, Han: plastic smiles and denial.
They worked so hard to transform themselves into the school's most sought-after girls-they grew closer because of it-but when Mona found out about Hanna's little secret, she was furious.
I've been eating three almonds a day and you've been eating all the food you want?
Tears sting her eyes. She hasn't heard much from Mona since. She knows that their friendship was superficial, she just hadn't realized how superficial it truly was until after Mona dumped her.
Part of her worries that once her other friends find out, they'll leave, too. After all, who'd want to be friends with someone like her? If Hanna couldn't love herself, she didn't expect others to be able to.
She doesn't know how much longer she can keep this up. It gets harder by the day, if not by the hour. It seems that she's entirely consumed by her disorder. She's constantly obsessing about the amount of calories she consumes in a day, or in a meal. Mainly, she finds herself obsessing over what Ali would say if she saw her now. She's gone from Hefty Hanna to gorgeous Hanna in such a short amount of time. Surely she'd earn Ali's acceptance now, right? But it's not enough.
It never will be.
"How are you?" Spencer asks, stepping up to her locker.
Hanna, startled, does a once over in her mirror and wipes her glossy eyes before shutting the door.
"Fine," she answers, trying her best to give her a genuine smile, but Spencer knows better.
"Denial can only get you so far," she tells her.
"Well, it's working."
"Is it?"
"Enough," she answers.
"Hanna," Spencer warns, and the blond sighs.
"It's not," she whispers.
Spencer grabs her hand and leads her into the bathroom. Once they're inside, she reaches for the top of the door to turn the latch, making sure it's locked.
"Okay, bringing me into a room with a giant mirror is not going to help me."
Her friend grabs her shoulders and turns her to face it, holding her in place.
"Tell me what you see."
"I don't want to do this."
"What do you see?"
Hanna flinches, taking in her full reflection. Her face is pale, her eyes sunken. They're blood shot, and heavy, purple bags are etched into the translucent skin underneath them.
"I can't do this," Hanna whimpers and her voice shakes.
"Do you want to know what I see?" Spencer asks, gently rubbing her back.
"I see a girl. Someone that's trying so hard to gain everyone else's approval, when the only approval she needs and should value is her own. I see someone that's so incredibly caring, smart, and brave. I see a girl that can and will beat this. I see my beautiful best friend. I wish you could meet her, I think you'd really like her."
Hanna's eyes become wet with tears. "She seems really great."
"She is," Spencer tells her, kissing the top of her head. "Now, what do you see?"
Hanna starts to cry. "I see someone that looks a lot like me. She looks exhausted. She looks really sick, and…unhappy," she chokes out. "She looks lost; she looks like she's given up."
"Has she?"
"No," Hanna mutters.
"You don't seem too sure."
"I'm not."
"What about this?" Spencer asks, pulling out a picture of the two of them from a couple of years ago.
Hanna flinches, seeing the image of herself. Just looking at it causes her stomach to gurgle, and her throat constricts. She feels extremely triggered.
"It's okay, I'm right here," Spencer soothes, taking note of her reaction.
"Wha-what about it?" is all Hanna can ask, fighting every urge she has to lean over the sink and empty her stomach.
"What would you say to the girl in this picture?"
She takes a deep breath, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "First of all, I would tell her not to listen to Ali," she jokes.
"What else would you say?"
"That she's beautiful," she whispers, running a thumb over the photo.
Spencer smiles and she tilts Hanna's head up to face the mirror.
Poor Hefty Hanna, she can hear Ali say. She looks closer into the mirror, and swears she can see her standing right next to her. She really must be exhausted.
"Leave," Hanna orders.
Is that anyway to thank me?
She lets out a laugh. "Thank you for what?"
For what I did for you.
"You did absolutely nothing for me."
Sure I did. Look what's happened since I've made you pretty: you're Rosewood High's it girl. I created you.
"You destroyed me."
I'd be careful, Han. I can knock you back down to Hefty Hanna real quick.
"No, you can't."
You're almost there, you know. Just a few more pounds and you'll finally be beautiful.
"I don't need your help anymore" she all but yells.
Sure you do. You were a nobody without me then, and you'll be a nobody without me now.
"Fuck you, Alison."
I'd watch it if I were you. I'm the only friend you have left. If you think the other girls are going to stick around once they learn about your little secret, you're wrong. It's sucks, doesn't it? You did all of this to gain other people's love and approval, but you still haven't earned it. And you never will.
Hanna lets out a pained scream and lunges at the mirror, smashing her fist into the hard glass. Spencer's eyes widen in shock and she stands back, watching as Hanna bashes the mirror over, and over again.
"You may have been beautiful, Ali, but it was only skin deep."
Smash.
"You're a bitch."
Smash.
"I should've never listened to you."
Smash.
"You-you," she stutters, but she drops her fist. She's silent as she peers into the broken mirror, looking at the remaining shards.
"Even broken things can be beautiful," Spencer tells her, watching as she stares at her reflection.
Hanna starts to cry. Every ounce of anger, of frustration, of sadness that she's pent up inside of her for so long, is finally let go.
Spencer holds her and lets her fall apart in her arms. "I'm so proud of you," she whispers, hugging her tighter.
"I can't believe I listened to her," she cries.
"You can stop, you know."
"It's not that easy."
"You're right, it's not. But it'll be worth it. Don't you agree?"
Hanna nods, pressing her face into Spencer's shoulder.
And it will be. Spencer's right: she's been spending too much time trying to gain everyone else's approval, when the only approval she truly needs is her own. She's spent the past two years of her life trying to be beautiful, but realizes now just how much her definition of beauty has changed. She's beginning to recognize that true beauty is beyond skin-deep. It's the ability to not just accept your flaws, but to appreciate them. It's the ability to rise from the ashes of your past, triumphant.
In this moment, she realizes one thing: pretty doesn't have to hurt.