A/N

Thirteen Reasons Why has been my favorite book ever since I read it for the first time three years ago. There is nothing I would change about it, but after just finishing it for about the tenth time last night, I came up with a side b for cassette 7. I hope you like it! I know it ends with a cliffhanger so if i get enough positive feedback I wouldn't be opposed to making this one-shot a two-shot.

CASSETTE 7: SIDE B

The tape clicks itself over and continues playing.

Without her voice, the slight static hum that constantly played beneath her words sounds louder. Over seven tapes and thirteen stories, her voice was kept at a slight distance by this steady hum in the background.

I let this sound wash over me as I hold onto the bars and close my eyes. The bright moon disappears. The swaying treetops disappear. The breeze against my skin, the fading pain in my fingers, the sound of this tape winding from one spool to the next, reminds me of everything I've heard over the past day.

My breathing begins to slow. The tension in my muscles starts to relax.

Then, a click in the headphones. A slow breath of air.

I open my eyes to the bright moonlight.

And Hannah, with warmth.

Thank you.

She says it in a tone that suggestions conclusion; her voice quieter and calmer than it ever has been before on these tapes.

It's as if she's finally come to peace with what she is going to do the next day.

My eyes sting with that acknowledgement.

Don't worry. I'm not going to make this my appreciation speech after an award. This isn't the Oscar's.

A breeze rolls by, and I pull my jacket closer in the hopes of staying warm.

It doesn't work.

I really would like to thank you all, though, for listening to my side of the story—the real story. I mean, it's not like you had much choice to it, but I think that a part of you all wanted to hear this.

I never wanted to hear this. I never wanted to have to know all the horrible things people did to you, Hannah.

The second I think that, however, I feel like punching myself in the face. Did I really just say I'd rather not know? That I'd rather have let her suffer and die quietly without ever explaining herself? My stomach tightens.

Even thinking that makes me no better than Mr. Porter, who in Hannah's words, can go straight to hell.

After all, curiosity killed the cat, right? For some reason, people need to know things. It's why you grabbed my ass at Blue Spot during freshman year, isn't it Bryce? It's why you had to meet me at Monet's before you could hit me, isn't it Jessica? Even you, Clay.

God no. Not me again.

Clay, honey, you're the only one who shouldn't be on here, but still the reason you talked to me at that party was to know me better. To see if the rumors were true or not. You needed to know the truth.

No, Hannah. I talked to you at that party because I finally decided it didn't matter. It didn't matter if the rumors were true. I would still like you even if they were.

Bryce, you needed to know if my ass really was the best in the class. Jessica, you needed to know if I really had put Alex up to putting your name down opposite mine.

I guess it's just human nature to need to know the answers to things.

I bet all of you on these tapes wondered the second you found out I had killed myself.

The second I found out, all I could feel was numb. All I could think about was her.

Hhmm…I bet you all thought for an instant…why would she have done that? In the back of your mind, though, you were already making up the answer for yourself. Because of you, you thought to yourself. You—you can fill in whatever blank you see fit—to her.

But then you shook your head. No.

I only told some people the exaggerated truth about her first kiss.

I only made her ass the best of the freshman class.

I only accused her of betrayal.

I only took some pictures of her when she wasn't looking.

I only pretended to be friends with her to boost my popularity.

I only asked her out as a joke.

I only took some stupid letters from her.

I only stole her poem.

I only opened a door for my friend.

I only kicked her out of my car.

I only hooked up with her in a hot tub.

I only let her leave my office.

I only stopped myself from getting to know you better. From letting you feel like someone out there cared.

She said I shouldn't be a part of this, but I should be. I am responsible somehow, just like everybody else.

I can see why you wouldn't think you could be held accountable for my suicide. I can see why you would think how you played a part in my life wouldn't make you liable for my death.

But you did.

Everything…affects everything.

Yes. Yes it does.

It would have been a lot easier for me if I could have blamed this all on one person. One defining event that would cause this all to make sense. But that's not how it happened.

It was one small thing after another. After another. After another.

I can see that now.

And the thing is, you all probably think I hate you now. That I killed myself as a giant 'FUCK YOU'. That I plan to haunt you every day for the rest of your life until you feel as bad as I did.

But that isn't true.

I don't hate you. Any of you. I don't even hate myself.

And that's the problem.

If I could hate something, then maybe I would still have a chance. Maybe I'd still be alive. Because in a weird way, hating something is still caring about it. If I hated, I could love. I could feel.

And right now, I don't feel anything.

I don't feel myself.

I thought I could have loved you, Hannah. I know I could have.

But at the end of the day…how do you love someone who can't even love themself?

There is a long pause on her end, and I suddenly wonder if this is the end. If this is the very last thing I will ever hear from her.

It feels like hours before she speaks again.

I'm not sure if you noticed or not, but I didn't mark this last tape.

I noticed.

I did that because this last one doesn't really matter. The other ones did, because you all needed to know what you had done wrong. Don't worry; I don't expect any of you to miss me. That wouldn't be fair.

Oh, Hannah. I miss you, and I didn't even know you.

But I do expect you to not take these tapes lightly. Because of you, I killed myself. I don't mean to be blunt, but that's the truth.

Your actions had repercussions.

And even though I won't be around to be affected by you any longer, that doesn't mean you won't still hurt others.

I'm okay with being the example.

Just please don't let this happen again. Realize that what you say or do to someone really can hurt them.

Nobody else should have to die.

I know that this is the end, unlike before when I was unsure.

With a sigh, I gently slide the headphones off of my head. I put the Walkman, still with the last tape in it, away in my backpack. I will rewind them all later.

The rocket ship jungle gym squeals faintly from the weight shift when I move up to the second platform through the manhole sized gap. This is the largest area of the entire play set, and I lay down perpendicular with the slide so that my feet dangle off the level through the bars. My arms go behind my head and I close my eyes.

"Hannah," I angrily say, moisture gathering in the corners of my shut lids. "Nobody had to die."

"Yes I did, Clay."