Chapter 3
"I can't understand you, you know," she shot back with a slight pout. The black-haired teenager (for some reason, he seemed strangely familiar to her) stared back with his eyes narrowed, hostile. His entire body was alert, yet strangely relaxed. He made no movements to attack her (though she was still wary after the blue man's attack last time) but she could just tell that he was fully capable of harming her if he so wished.
His limbs were gangly, as if he had just started a growth spurt. Hannah couldn't stop herself from comparing his figure to one of those gross spider creatures, with his beady eyes and weirdly long arms. With long, black hair and ginormous eyebags –
Ginormous eyebags.
Her eyes widened with the realisation. Wait. What was happening? Why was she in this place yet again? Most importantly – why him, of all people?
Her earlobe prickled. She had to consciously stop herself from touching her ear. Weirdly enough, a small scab remained. Every time she looked at him, even though he was short and awkwardly teenager-esque, he still radiated that calmness from last time – a weird sort of calmness which was hard to describe. It was almost like the sort of calm that her mother gave off when she was about to give a lecture. Yes, Hannah thought to herself. That was what it reminded her of.
She yelped. She quickly tried to regain her composure (and dignity), faintly embarrassed at her outburst. His eyes, once black as beetle shells, turned into an unusual combination of black and red. She didn't need to pay attention in Biology to recognise that this was… abnormal. Completely, utterly abnormal. It just wasn't right. It must have been one of his mafia tricks, she decided, because she had 20/20 vision (her optician had confirmed this only – what, three months ago?) and her eyes could not be lying to her. His eyes had changed colour. Unable to look away, she stood staring into his eyes.
"Wow," she gawked, half in awe and half repulsed. "Wow, you really need some sleep. Your eyes are completely bloodshot. Plus, you have such ugly bags under your eyes. Maybe try, like, I dunno, a face mask or something."
He did not seem impressed, judging by the slight twitch of his eyes. Nevertheless, it was fine. She didn't have to be polite since he probably still couldn't understand her.
"Just saying, but you looked loads better when you were, like, ten. Not that I'm being weird or anything – I just happened to be in your house when you were ten." She paused, looking back at his facial expression. She logically knew that he couldn't understand her, since she spoke in English and he spoke in… some sort of Asian language. But she didn't like his gaze on her. It felt like his blood-red eyes were able to look straight into her soul.
"W-Wait – I realise how this sounds. I'm telling the truth here though!" she added, with a fixed nod. "I mean, I didn't try to enter your house or anything. And it wasn't like I stole anything. I just walked around for a bit in your house while you ate dinner with your family," she added. "And I didn't try to kidnap your brother. We just happened to be in the same room at the same time! And I don't know how I managed to disappear when the rest of your family walked in – I genuinely don't."
He stared back, expression hard to gauge. They stood there for a good few minutes, squaring off – or at least, Hannah was trying to. She wasn't quite sure what the boy was doing – but clearly he had never been taught manners. It was rude to stare.
"Is this some sort of code?"
Her mouth dropped open. Wow, this was weird. The boy in her brain – the boy who spoke only in a foreign language – could understand what she was saying. No – not only could he understand what she was saying, he could reply. In English. In a lovely baritone, too.
"What… the fuck," she whispered, incredulous. "Have you been tricking me this entire time into thinking that you couldn't speak English?"
The boy seemed to chuckle slightly, his previously tense body relaxing somewhat. Hannah felt her cheeks burning up with the embarrassment. This was just bizarre. Yes, so she'd return to school tomorrow and tell everyone what was happening.
The day before her exams, she'd been transported into this random country in Asia to stalk a certain boy – mind you, not just once, but three times – who was part of a mafia. The boy became an adult – aged twenty, perhaps? – and his friends – a fish man and a squat man with a mohawk – attacked her. Then she stabbed the fish man, who turned into water. Then finally, the boy – who then turned back into a teenager – changed eye colour from black to red, then randomly started talking in English. Oh yes, and don't forget that she was transported home in order to resit her exams every single time.
Hannah had always known that she was creative – evident by that A* in Art – but she was doubtful that even she could come up with something this strange.
"I used my Sharingan to learn the language that you were speaking in," the boy declared, as if it was the most logical explanation in the world.
"Yes, that totally makes sense," she retorted hotly. "And I used the… the fucking A-Avocado's Constant to work out what the… the saturation of your mafia's mansion is. And I'll use my own Sharangin to beat you up, if you don't shut up, smartass."
"That… that's completely incorrect… on so many levels," the boy replied quietly, his eyebrows knit together in genuine confusion and horror. "Perhaps this jutsu did not work properly?"
Damn. That was stupid of her. In an attempt to use complicated vocabulary, she had tried to recall random phrases from her Chemistry textbooks. That had, quite frankly, been a terrible idea – she had gotten a D in Chemistry. And looking back on it, Avocado's Constant really did not seem to be the right name.
"Whatever," she huffed. "Stupid nerd."
"Who are you?" he asked, in that same annoyingly calm tone. Still glowering, Hannah stubbornly refused to answer, her lips twisted into a furious, childish pout and her fingers tugging on a lock of auburn hair. They stood in silence for several minutes before the stony boy reacted.
"I see. You are maintaining your pretence of idiocy," he said slowly. Although he fixed his eyes sternly on the ground, his lips twitched upwards, though Hannah couldn't tell if it was supposed to be a kind smile or a smug one. "I must say your tactic initially threw me off – but I am not so ignorant as I was ten years ago. Your charade will not get the better of me this time."
Hannah's face twisted into a comical mask of confusion. She glanced up at the teenager, somewhat baffled – no, absolutely bamboozled – only to realise what was happening.
It took barely a second before she blacked out and disappeared.
"Mum," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath of air. She didn't – couldn't – even raise her head from the pillow. Her exhaustion, after three full days of being awake, left her with a pounding migraine and with her head spinning.
She didn't even have to look up at her calendar to know what day it was – Tuesday 25th.
"Up! Now!"
She could faintly hear the sound of her mother getting ready in the background. The smacking of her lips as she applied lipstick, the clicking of her heels on the ground as she walked about. It was all so familiar after seventeen years of the same routine. Her mother was really her safety blanket.
"You'll be late for school, you lazy thing! Get up!" her mother chided, sighing. "Good luck for your exams today. Try your best, okay?"
Hannah, as much as she would have loved (not) to get up to go to school, physically was unable to get out of bed. She tried shifting to her side but succeeded only in making her headache worse. "I can't, Mum," she choked out. "I-I'm scared."
Scared. That was… one definitely way to describe it.
With a gentle sigh, her mother slowly sat down on the bed next to her. She tenderly stroked the girl's head.
"There's no need to be scared, sweetheart," she replied with a soft smile. "Of course, your dad and I put a lot of pressure on you. We definitely don't go easy on you."
Yes, that was certainly true. They had tried everything from tutoring to ... They tried positive reinforcement; they tried being bribing; they even threatened to send her away to stay with her American hippie uncle. (Unfortunately, the idea of marijuana was far too appealing to Hannah, thus the idea backfired.) Hannah, by now, was familiar with almost all of these methods. It would take nothing short of torture to force her to do something that she didn't want to do.
"But we love you, and nothing will ever change that," her mother admitted. It was strange. Hannah had rarely heard them say it aloud. She felt strangely… dissociated. She wasn't quite sure how to respond. But it felt nice, too.
"Since that incident last year, your grades have gotten worse. By pushing you, we're just trying to help you get back to… where you were. But Phil and I both understand that your mental health and your happiness come first and foremost. We will never be truly angry at you for doing poorly in a test. So long as you try your best and you are happy, we will be too. Please, please don't ever be scared of… of us."
They sat in silence for a few seconds as tears relentlessly poured forth from Hannah's eyes. The lump in her throat forbade her from speaking. It took her a few minutes to gather her emotions.
"I love you, Mum," she whispered, her voice cracking halfway through. She paused again, with a few sniffles. Her voice was hardly discernible, what with the sobs that tore through her. "I'll t-try h-harder. I'll p-pass these exams for you."
"I know you will, sweetheart," her mother murmured. "But I'm late to work and my blouse is covered in your snot."
Hannah laughed shakily at the unexpected remark, in spite of herself and in spite of her situation. "Go," she said with a newfound determination. "I'll g-get ready for school, I promise. Don't worry."
With a wet smile, she gave her mother a final hug and peck on the cheek. She watched the door as it closed with a bang. Slowly, Hannah changed out of her pyjamas into the school uniform. She splashed her face with cool water and grabbed a breakfast bar before heading out.
But that's not what I meant.
Looking at the clock, it was inevitable that Hannah would be late to school. But it didn't matter. Nothing that she did mattered. The next morning, she would wake up once more, only to realise that it was still Tuesday 25th. She was trapped.
Mum, I'm scared, she cried internally. I'm scared of going to sleep. I'm scared that I'm going crazy. It's killing me.
Oh, if only she knew.
A/N: Apologies for the late update. I've been preoccupied with my GCSEs, unfortunately! This is becoming darker and darker, weirdly enough, since I started out with the intention of this being a light-hearted, funny story. I intend to keep it more light-hearted in the future though.
It's actually really really difficult to write humour. I have never ever gotten the hang of it. I'm gonna try and improve by writing this story though!
I would really appreciate any reviews! I felt so happy to read your thoughts on the last chapter! Please keep in mind that I am only writing for fun. I appreciate that my writing is not the best (English, especially the descriptive and narrative writing part, is actually my worst subject!) While constructive criticism is appreciated, please do not send hate. If it is truly not your cup of tea, then don't read it.
