I do not own anything 13 reasons why wise, just an alternative outcome.
He sits. His elbows resting on his wet jeans, his hand held out before him.
He stares. He knew where he was, he knew how he got there, he remembered his actions upon arrival. But right at this moment, this moment that had lasted for which seemed like an year, he was only aware oh his hands.
He was catatonic. People rushed around him, carts sped by with people huddled around them working to extend someone's light. People coughed, moaned and groaned in pain around him. Scratching of pens on paper as people filled out forms, yet he didn't hear any of it. He only knew his hands.
His jeans and long sleeved t shirt were damp, but he didn't feel it. His head throbbed, pumping that life giving fluid out of the nasty spilt in his skin with every beat of his heart, it trickled down the back of his head, down his neck and slowly turned his grey t shirt darker. But he didn't feel it, he only felt his hands.
His eyes watered, they had been watering for a while, a river of what seemed to be endless silent tears fell from his eyes, rolled down his cheeks, gathered on his chin and then rained to his damp jeans. But he didn't feel the damp liquid on his face. He only felt the liquid, the life giving liquid, warm and sticky that covered his hands.
"Clay?!"
A distant murmur started to break through the thick silence that had surrounded him.
"clay!?"
Shaking now, as the silent numbness shattered, every sense came under attack.
Quickly blinking he brought his vision away from his blood covered hands and looked into the wet tear filled eyes of Mrs Baker. She hand crouched before him, her hands resting on his damp cold knees. Mr Baker stood beside her his hand resting on clays shoulder he too looked distraught and it was understandable.
"clay?" Mrs Baker asked so softly he almost didn't hear her "where is she? Where's our little girl?" she questioned struggling to keep her tears in check.
Slowly clay turned his head to the right, towards two ominous grey and white doors.
"they...they uhh... took her through to the O.R" Clay choked out after clearing his throat.
"I'll go ask." Mr Baker stuttered quickly before half running towards the desk down the hall.
"what happened?" Mrs Baker sighed slumping into the chair beside Clay.
...
Clay was stood behind the counter in the deathly silent crestmont cinema, he wiped the same spot of the glass counter he'd been wiping for the last ten minutes, his eyes unfocused as his mind went over the last two days.
He should of spoken to her. He should of asked her to talk to him. He should of told her that night, that beautifully horrible night when he kissed her, he should of told how he felt. But he didn't, he was stupid, so fucking stupid and pathetic and such a...a...a fucking coward.
He could of spoken to her when she dropped in her uniform. He should of called after, gone after her...something! Anything! But he just stared after her, his mouth hanging open stupidly.
He suddenly felt his pocket vibrate, it snapped him out of his self pity party and forced him to jump in his skin. Quickly he whipped his head around to make sure his was alone, satisfied he reached into his pocket and pulled his phone free.
One new message front Tony sat in the centre of his home screen. With a slide and a tap he opened the message which held only three words:
HANNAH HELP NOW!
It took micro seconds for his brain to snap into actions, he ran from behind the counter, tearing off his bow tie and ripping his shirt and waistcoat off. He fought with his chain, dropping it on the sidewalk once he had it off, leapt onto his bike and peddled like the hounds of hell were at his heels.
He skidded into the Bakers driveway, falling from his bike onto their lawn. He kicked up turf as he got to his feet and charged for the door. He'd probably get fired for running out, but it would be worth it, she IS worth it. He slammed into the front door, his fists hammered against the wood as he screamed her name over and over.
When she didn't answer he started running into the door shoulder first, when his shoulder couldn't take anymore he ran back out to the lawn, grabbed a rock from the flower bed and launched it at the window. It shattered, before the top of the pane of shattered glass had even touched the floor clay had thrown himself through the window. His sneakers slipped on the glass fragments below, but he stayed upright. He sped up the stairs and burst into Hannah's bedroom. It was immaculate, it was the cleanest tides room clay had ever seen. He allowed himself a second to collect his breath, in which time he heard the water. He spun, back out into the hall he burst through the bathroom door, his feet slipping on the wet floor, his world spun as he went backwards. He felt and heard his skull crack against the sink before hitting the wet bathroom floor.
He groaned as he sat up, his hand reaching for the back of his now burning skull. Then he froze as he saw her. She was slumped to her right in the overflowing bath, he squeaked her name, she was so pale. Then he saw the colour of the water that spilt over the edge of the tub, pink...pink water.
"no..." He breathed scrambling to his feet again "NO NO NO." He cried as he saw the red water she was sat in.
He rushed forwards, hooking his arms under her shoulders as he pulled her from the bath.
"Hannah, no, please...please" he begged grabbing two hand towels from the railing and wrapping them around the horrific cuts on her wrists. He grabbed for his phone. He called 911 as he searched Hannah's chest of draws for two belts.
"911 what's your emergency?" a monotone voice answered as his pulled the second belt free from a pair of jeans he'd found in the second draw down.
"my...girl...my friend, she's cut her wrists...in a bath of warm water, please...please help her." He replied quickly as he raced back to the bathroom.
The voice assured him that paramedics had been dispatched to his location as he fell to his knees in the growing puddle on the floor, he tied a belt above each cut on her arms, making sure it was tight. He made a mental note of the time and then dropped his phone and lifted her beautiful angelic, breathtakingly pretty head and laid it in his lap, he hunched over her, whispering, pleading for her to hold on.
The paramedics arrived, entered through the window clay had used, one unlocked and opened the front door as the other ascended the stairs to the bathroom. They found clay holding Hannah close to him, he was soaked through, his grey long sleeve was coated in Hannah's blood, as were his hands.
The second para joined them soon with a collapsible gurney, the lifted Hannah onto it and headed down the stairs, clay following in shock. Instinctively he climbed into the ambulance with them the entire time he held her hand. He held it tight right up until the took her through those two grey double doors, then a woman in blue scrubs gently pushed him back with a sympathetic smile and a genital.
"we got her from here, we'll do everything we can for your girlfriend"
Clay nimbly tried to correct her but she had vanished behind the doors.
He staggered across to a pay phone and picked up the phone. He'd left his in the flooded Bakers bathroom. He pulled his lose change from his pocket and fed it all into the machine before dialling a number.
"Hello, Bakers drug store how can I help you?" Mrs baker answered happily.
"Mrs Baker...my...im...clay, clay jenson...your daug...hannah, she's in hospital...she tried to kill...she cut her...she bad Mrs baker, you should be here." He choked out before the tears that had been building finally broke free, like a river smashing through a damn.
He heard Mrs baker scream for her husband and hang up, he replaced the handset and saw his hands. His red, warm sticky hands. That s when everything went quiet and all he knew was Hannah's blood was on his hands.
...
Mrs Baker wiped her tears with a tissue as clay finished.
She gently replaced her hand on clays damp jeans and weakly smiled.
"thank you" she whispered giving his knee a genital squeeze.
"I'm sorry for the window" clay numbly stated.
"it just a window" Mrs Baker breathed looking for her husband.
The three of them sat in silence for hours, Clay sat staring at his hands, while Mr Baker switched between sitting beside his wife and walking slowly back and forth in front of them. Finally a balding man with glasses in green scrubs emerged from those awful double doors and approached them.
All three were on their feet and facing him.
"Bakers?" he asked stopping a couple of feet away.
Unable to form words, the two parents simply nodded while clay waited impatiently to know how Hannah was.
"your daughters alive. She very nearly wasn't. If this young man hadn't thought of using the belts to reduce the blood flow to her arms, then I'd be giving you the worst news" the surgeon stated smiling softly to Clay "she is in recovery at the moment. The surgery went well, very well considering how deep the cuts were, she will have numbness in her hands for a while, but that is perfectly normal and will pass with a week or two." He finished with a happy but tired sigh.
"can we see her?" Mr Baker asked hopefully.
"of course, follow me and I'll take you to her" the scrub wearing man answered with a friendly smile.
He turned and like a herd of sheep the three followed. After a few turns the surgeon gestured towards a room. He shook hands with the Bakers and left them at Hannah's door.
The bakers walked through the door and to their daughters side. Mrs Baker looked up at clay who stood silently outside the room, looking in at the girl he loved, connected to all those machines, hearing her heart monitor beep steadily. She was still out of it, the anaesthetic was still slowly wearing off.
"clay?" Mrs Baker asked sweetly looking at him "are you coming in?"
"I...i..." clay stuttered blinking quickly as he tried to keep the new tears at bay "I need to wash my..." He drifted off as he held his bloody hands in front of him.
"alright sweetie, we'll be here okay, come and see her after" Mrs Baker smiled sympathetically.
Clay nodded. He turned and walked towards the wash room. Once he was inside he marched to the sink, turned the water on and started to wash Hannah's blood from his hands. Once he was done he looked up at his reflection, anger boiled through his body. He roared at himself and started smashing at the mirror. There were no words for how much he hated himself, if he wasn't so much of a fucking coward he could of prevented all of this.
He dropped his head, wept and crumpled to the floor.
Clay composed himself as best he could and walked back to Hannah's room.
He knocked softly on the door. Mr and Mrs Baker turned their heads from looking at there now awake daughter to Clay.
"here he is" Mrs Baker beamed at him "come in clay" she gestured happily.
Clay shuffled up to Hannah's bed and forced a very weak smile for her. Hannah's eyes filled with tears as she looked at him.
"I am so, sorry Clay" she whispered shakily holding her hand out to him.
"it's not your fault Hannah" he replied taking her hand in his and moving closer "it's mine. I am the one that should be apologising, I should be on my knees begging you to forgive me...im such a...a...coward" he hissed closing his eyes tightly.
"you didn't do anything wrong clay" Mrs Baker reassured softly from behind him.
She suddenly gasped. A second later Hannah gasped too as she watched clays eyes roll up into his skull and the colour drain from his face.
"clay, your head" Mrs Baker gasped just before the young man before her went limp and crumpled to the floor.
"Clay?!" Hannah screamed "help, someone...please!" she cried towards the door.
Mr and Mrs Baker quickly dropped to clays side, Mr Baker scooped him up and carried him out into the hall while his wife went to their daughter and pulled her into a hug.
"I love him mom..." Hannah wept holding her mother as though she was the only thing that was real "I love him."