(A/N: This is something quick just to keep my sanity, this was a summer project for school, so in case my teacher finds this published on here...I DIDN'T PLAGIARIZE MY PROJECT! ONCE I GET MY GRADE THIS A/N IS COMIN' DOWN! Now then...please enjoy~)
It won't be long until it'll be time. Time to say goodbye to all these problems that decided to unfold over the years at this high school. I was riding to Tony's to give him my bike. If I didn't give it to someone, it'd most likely rot and rust in the garage without ever getting used again. At least by giving it to Tony, it has a chance of being ridden again. With that thought, I pull to a stop at my destination, watching as he works on his car. He must work on it a lot but still looks like a death trap on wheels. It's a miracle that it's lasted this long.
When Tony finally notices me and my bike waiting in front of his house, he looks up from his car and straightens up when he sees me.
"Hey Hannah, what brings you here?" he greets me as if it was a normal thing for me to ride to his house, but it isn't.
"Nothing much, I just came to give you something," I respond, hopefully seeming just as normal. Can you see through me, Tony? Can you find my real purpose in giving this to you? Can you tell that this may be one of our last conversations?
"Seriously?" he asks, seeming surprised. He should be. We talk at school but we aren't close enough for random gift giving.
I nod my head as I get off of my bike, "Yeah, I came to give you this," I say as I motion to my only real mode of transportation.
"Why are you giving this to me?" he asks a look of confusion crossing his face. Oh god, he suspects something. He knows something is up. But I planned this far, didn't I? I just have to keep with the plan. I can do this.
I just give a shrug and look him in the eyes before saying, "I don't need it anymore and you were the only person I could think of who might. Your car is the oldest one at school and it's bound to break down at some point. Just take it as a backup for when that day comes".
He starts to shake his head, "I can't take your bike. At least – not without giving you something in return. Anything you need?" And with those words, I break. I never look away, but my vision blurs as the tears start to pour again. Next thing I know, I'm crying and he's getting concerned. I'm lying through my teeth here. That isn't the reason I no longer need the bike. I don't need it anymore because I'll be gone in a couple of days and I won't be able to use it where I'm going. He hasn't figured out why I've come yet. He really doesn't know and he's just eating up all these lies that I keep on dishing out. I try to calm down as I think of what I would want to ask for. Then, I remember a little game of revenge I'd thought up earlier.
"Hey, Tony? How...do you make those tapes you play in your car?" I ask, swallowing all the tears that I still want to cry.
He's definitely confused by now but he tries to hide it as he cautiously replies, "With my dad's old tape recorder. It's a pretty simple process..." before launching into an explanation.
I listen, absorbing as much of the information as I could before asking my second question, "Do you have a recorder that can record voices? Like a handheld recorder, or something that can just be used to record while out on a walk without having to plug it in?"
Tony thinks for a second before saying "Yeah, I think I do. Wait right there, I'll go get it," and then he's off. He didn't ask why I needed it. Maybe he just doesn't care why. Maybe it's to trade for the bike. While he's gone, I run through all the possibilities on why he didn't ask why. Just as I think he may have called my parents to tell them that something was wrong with me, he comes back, tape recorder in hand. I thank him before waving good bye and heading home, leaving my bike with him.
Once I'm in my room, I pull out my paper of names from the day of the party and my notebook, writing out the stories that accompany the circled names. I make notes of all the places I mention and end up printing out a map of the town, starring and labeling where each location lands on it. With each word I write on the pages of my notebook and each starred spot on the map, I weave together one large story: The Tragic Misfortunes of Hannah Baker. With a deep breath and all my thoughts gathered, I look to the tape recorder I borrowed from Tony.
I find myself pressing record and say the first words that come to mind, "Hello boys and girls. Hannah Baker here. Live and in stereo," and after that, the words just pour out, weaving the tale themselves. With each story, a new wound rips open as I'm forced to relive some of my best and worst moments. It isn't fair that this happened to me. I never did anything wrong. All I did was open my heart to someone and they decided to trample it and ruin my life. I hope that they're happy with what they did, because soon enough, I'll be making sure that these final words haunt them.
The next day, I pass out the maps, and a couple of days pass before it's finally the day. The day that my story finally ends, but I find myself hesitating. I find myself scared. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down, but I can't. I finally decide that maybe I should try to reach out for help. I find myself pulling out the tape recorder that I had begun to carry in my backpack and pressing the record button.
"One...last...try..." I breathe out along with a few other words, whilst holding the recorder close. As I head into Mr. Porter's room with my final shred of hope and the recorder in my backpack, I try to reach for help but, Mr. Porter is mainly telling me to just forget. How can he just expect me to forget? After everything that's happened? It's impossible! I shouldn't have tried, and I knew that.
Once I leave his room, I whisper my final message and end with a final farewell whispered to the recorder. "I'm sorry," I was a fool and I was weak. All I have left to do is copy the tape I had just made before mailing the tapes that now number 7. I get back to home base and find myself crying.
I turned the tape recorder on one final time, too choked to say much and find myself whispering, "Thank you," before ending my final recording. I copy the tapes and mail them to their respective parties, conveniently leaving out the return address. Then, I make my final trip home, looking around at the town one final time. A little too quickly, I find myself back home and grabbing the pills. I look at the bottle and take a deep breath.
"Goodbye"