AN: Prompts will be displayed at the bottom to avoid them potentially giving away things.
~ WARNING: MENTION OF MENTAL HEALTH AND SUICIDE ~
The Girl Before
AlwaysPadfoot
Susan felt distinctly nervous.
The idea of joining a new support group, in a town she was new to, was terrifying. Especially when she was sure she wouldn't be able to explain why she was there. The group leader knew that she was mostly mute, but she could already feel all the participants' eyes on her, all wondering why Susan didn't speak.
She tried to purge all the anxiety from her brain as she unlocked her bicycle. As she started cycling in the direction of the parish hall the group was held in, Susan found herself trying to justify not going at all. How could she trust a group of strangers? She could say she was sick, or that she had to work, or anything really if it meant she didn't have to go. And yet, she kept pedalling, because at the back of her mind she knew this was the first hurdle. If Susan fell at this one, she wouldn't get back up again.
On her way there, it started to rain — the wispy type of rain that soaked you through without you really realising it.
In that moment, Susan was more focused on getting somewhere dry, stumbling through the door of the parish hall. Her previous anxiety was momentarily forgotten, as she shrugged off her coat to hand it up in the foyer.
"Rain is one thing the British do better than anybody else." The voice made her jump internally as she turned around to come face-to-face with a red-haired man, who had a wide smile on his freckled face. He held his hand out to her. "You must be Susan. I'm Arthur, the support group leader."
Susan shook his hand with a shy smile, her cheeks a little pink as she opened and closed her mouth, not saying anything.
"Don't worry, I got your email with everything in so I can introduce you to the group," he said, gesturing for her to enter the hall. "They don't bite, I promise. Everything is going to be a-okay. You're a little early, help yourself to a drink from the back."
Arthur came across as a tad eccentric to her, but at least he had welcomed her in. He went to talk to another guy already sat in the circle — a blonde with a look of irritation on his face — whilst Susan went to help herself to a hot drink. She poured herself a large tea and heaped two sugars in, cupping in between her cold hands as she selected a chair in the circle. Feeling like there was no escape now, Susan stared into her drink, her leg jostling up and down a little.
One by one, people began to arrive. Two women, who were clearly friends, sat two seats across from her, one of them talking about her latest boyfriend. He sounded like a right case to Susan, and obviously the other girl agreed because it prompted her to roll her eyes and mutter: "Sheesh, where'd you dig this bozo up?". Others trickled in. A man with coils of dark hair and thick hipster lenses; another guy with tattoos and a light irish accent. Susan found herself particularly distracted by an attractive women with blonde hair and an infinity symbol tattooed behind her ear.
Just as Arthur got their attention to begin, a skinny man with scruffy black hair and green eyes ran in. "Sorry I'm late, my husband shot our alarm clock."
"Did he really, Harry?" Arthur asked.
Harry grinned as he slid into the remaining chair. "Nope."
Arthur clasped his hands together and beamed at the group. "Right, now that we are all here and present, we can begin. As you all might have noticed we have a new member here today."
Susan felt her cheeks heat as people looked to her and forced herself to raise her hand in an awkward wave.
"Susan has just moved to the area from Lancaster and has decided to join us here," Arthur explained to the group. "She's twenty-four and suffers from PTSD and has selective mutism so she'll be fairly quiet in comparison to some of you noisy lot."
By the look on his face, Susan felt like he had a few people in mind as the 'noisy lot'.
"You all know the drill when a new person joins us," Arthur continued. "Hannah, you can start."
He gestured to the cute blonde that Susan had noticed before. She had one leg tucked underneath her and an oversized hoodie on. Hannah sighed softly, looking like the last thing she wanted to do was introduce herself in front of everyone. She pushed her hair out of her face and stood up, her chair scraping against the floor.
"I'm Hannah," she said. "I'm twenty five. I've got PTSD thanks to my older brother being a dick, and I am pretty sure the government is watching me."
She dropped back into her chair, strategically avoiding Arthur's gaze, and then the girl beside her stood up to speak. Susan half-listened, her attention focused on Hannah. So they shared a disorder. She wondered if maybe they could bond over it, that they could be close. Susan would have to build up the confidence to speak to her though. That was a terrifying thought. That could take forever, and what would she talk about to her. Susan could hardly say: "Hey, you're fucked up like me. Let's hang out, maybe go on a date.". That would never work.
One by one people introduced themselves, and Arthur asked if anyone wanted to speak afterwards. A few people did, most didn't.
Susan lost herself inside her head as Arthur ran activities and people talked. And when the meeting came to an end, Susan slipped away into the rain, thinking about how she could potentially talk to Hannah.
The first time Susan got the potential opportunity to talk to Hannah, they arrived at the same. Susan held the door open for her and they hung out their coats together and walked to grab a drink in an awkward silence.
"How are you finding it so far?" Hannah asked suddenly.
Susan shrugged and then made an uncertain hand gesture.
"I was like that," Hannah said, stirring a sugar into her tea. "Some days I don't want to come, but every week I find myself walking through the door anyway."
Susan studied her expression. Hannah looked tired, but Susan could only admire the slight freckles on her cheeks. She had a real natural beauty that Susan secretly loved. Rubbing her hands together, Hannah grabbed a handful of biscuits and picked up her drink.
"I'm going to grab a seat."
Susan nodded, cursing herself for not forcing words out of her mouth. She watched the blonde walk away, ran a hand through her red hair and went back to making her own drink, feeling exceptionally foolish.
Dropping into a plastic chair, Susan mentally prepared herself for today's session. In dribs and drabs people came in and filled the circle of chairs. Just like last week and the two weeks before, Harry, the messy haired man, arrived late. He was panting for breath, like he'd sprinted all the way here from wherever he lived.
"Sorry I'm late, my goldfish jumped out of it's bowl," he said — another ridiculous excuse.
"You don't have a goldish, do you, Harry?" Arthur asked.
The boy shook his head and Arthur began the session.
Susan had yet to say a word in front of anyone here. Before each session Arthur would text her and ask — he didn't want to single her out in session if she didn't want to speak. Today he ran trust exercises, that one where you let people catch you, and as expected there was a pronounced element of mistrust amongst the group. That being said, Hannah dropped unperturbed into the arms of her partner, looking like she gave no shits at all whether they caught her or not.
Susan couldn't do it herself, like the majority of people.
After the session, she went to stack her used cup with the others and then turned and walked straight into someone. Susan found herself looking up at Hannah; she was mortified, and a shaky, whispered apology left her mouth.
"Oh, it's okay, no worries," Hannah said. "You okay?"
Susan was so embarrassed with herself that she couldn't bring herself to even nod, causing Hannah to pull a face and bite her lip. The blonde girl nervously put her empty mug on the table and then awkwardly took a step back from Susan.
"Right, I'm going to go," Hannah said. "You've probably had enough of me just talking at you today. See you next week."
Susan opened her mouth to respond just a little too late. Hannah had already started walking away, leaving her stood alone, and feeling like an idiot. Why was she incapable of acting normal? Why couldn't she just open her mouth and talk to the girl she had a fucking crush on? She felt childish. Susan sighed, her ears pricking at the sound of Lavender — a dramatic girl who developed unnatural obsessions — talking loudly to Arthur by the circle of the chairs.
"It's clear we deserve each other." Lavender's voice was raised, tears streaming down her face. "I need him to understand. I need Ron to leave that Hermione girl — we're supposed to be together."
Arthur and Susan met each other's gaze. Arthur looked somewhat flustered and she automatically signed 'good luck', giving him a look of sympathy with it before heading to the door. She was desperate to get home and drown herself in a bottle of wine, totally done with the day.
A few nights later Susan sat with her laptop trying to write something she could practice saying so she could at least make a connection with Hannah. She didn't want to write a monologue; she wanted something short that wouldn't feel like she was learning a script. She spend the evening on the phone with her aunt trying to get it right.
"You'll be fine, Susan," Aunt Amelia said firmly for the fourteenth time. "You're a capable young lady and this girl will understand; I'm positive."
It took her aunt nearly fifty minutes to convince her she could do it, before they could move on to their usual catch-up. Even then, Susan was distracted. She was reading over the words she's written on her laptop screen.
Hey, Hannah. I actually like when you talk to me; no one else bothers. I'd really like to get to know you more because I think you're a great person. Can I add you on facebook? Or get your number?
She could do this.
The sun was shining brightly on the morning of Susan's fifth support group meeting. She took that as an excellent sign.
It had been a long time since they'd had good weather. It reminded Susan that spring had reached its peak and they were heading towards summer — her favourite season. The good weather boosted her mood substantially and made her more confident for when she bumped into Hannah. As she cycled the fifteen minutes to the parish hall, Susan rehearsed what she was going to say over and over, a smile on her face as she weaved through the park.
She felt good about this.
Susan rounded the corner into the small car park and squeezed the brakes outside the building. Swinging her leg off the bike, Susan locked it up outside, noticing that Arthur was sat inside his pale blue Ford Anglia, talking on his mobile and biting his nails. She frowned but made her way inside the hall, going straight to make herself a drink.
Hannah wasn't there yet, but that was okay, she was prepared to talk to her afterwards if she couldn't before. Susan was determined.
People started to arrive, made drinks, and joined the circle. None of them were Hannah and Susan frowed; that was odd. Perhaps she was ill, or running late. Resigned to the fact that she was going to have to talk to Hannah afterwards, Susan took a spot in the circle, crossing one leg over the other. Dead on the time that they were supposed to start, Arthur finally came in. He looked flustered and hurried to sit down, apologising as he did.
"Sorry, folks, sorry about that," he said, slightly breathless.
As he sat down, Harry came in through the doors — late as always.
"Sorry, I'm late—"
"—not today, Harry."
There was a tone in Arthur's voice that made Susan frown. Harry blinked, a little surprised, and slipped into one of the two remaining plastic chairs. Hannah's was still empty.
As a silence fell over the group and Arthur took a deep — somewhat shaky — breath. "Before we start today, I have some news, and I appreciate it will probably overshadow the remainder of the meeting, as it probably should."
Susan felt her chest tighten slightly at Arthur's words. What was he going to tell them?
"I had a message this morning informing me that Hannah took her own life in the early hours of yesterday morning," Arthur said.
Susan's vision tunneled and Arthur kept talking, his voice turning echoey and indistinguishable.
No, this couldn't be possible. Susan had a plan; she was supposed to talk to Hannah today. They were supposed to start their friendship. Now Arthur was telling them she was dead? She couldn't think straight; her head spinning. Suddenly she was on her feet and everyone was looking at her.
"I need a day." Susan's voice was a whisper — the first words she had said in front of these people.
With no explanation, she left, no one making any attempt to stop her. Susan's movements were automatic as she unlocked her bike with shaking hands and cycled home. She had no intention of doing anything but curling up in bed at home.
She could have said something last week to Hannah. Guilt seeped through her body and Susan had to repeat over and over: it's not your fault, as she cycled the last stretch home. She had to as dangerous thoughts slipped in and out of her mind. Getting back to her house, Susan didn't make it to her bed. Instead, she collapsed on the sofa, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. She couldn't hold back her sobs, her face buried in a pillow.
She'd missed her chance because of her anxiety and lost a whole lot more than just her dignity. She'd lost Hannah.
Comp/Challenge & Prompts:
- GGE 2018: For Amber - Hannah/Susan
- Insane House Challenge: 857. Trait - Eccentric
- 365 Prompts Challenge: 20. Mute!AU
- Fanfiction Resolutions: 46. Go to Goodreads, find the most ridiculous title you can. Use it as inspiration. If you can't find one, one of the mods will help!
- Femslash February: Hannah/Susan
- Scavenger Hunt: 27. Write about someone exercising
- Serpent Challenge: 6. Egyptian asp - (dialogue) "Sorry I'm late, my husband shot our alarm clock."
- Library Lovers: The Fault in Our Stars - John Green: 1. (au) Support Group, 6. (plot point) Death of a main character, 10. (word) Infinity
- Writing Club [Character Appreciation]: 18. Write about a man with red hair. (BONUS)
- Writing Club [Disney Challenge]: 5. Character - Iago - Use the dialogue; "Sheesh, where'd you dig this bozo up?"
- Writing Club [Book Club]: Nick Andros: (genre) friendship, (trait) intelligent, (emotion) distrust, (object) bicycle
- Writing Club [Showtime]: 6. Dancing Through Life - (dialogue) "It's clear we deserve each other."
- Writing Club [Liza's Loves]: 3. Screwdriver - Write about someone using a muggle item
- Writing Club [Jenny's Jovial Quotes]: 9. "Rain is one thing the British do better than anybody else." - Marilyn French
Word Count: 2430 — not inc. notes, titles, or ANs.