Behind Closed Doors.

Hannah is your normal teenager; going through emotional and social pressure, whilst her parents suffer a rough patch in their marriage. Suddenly, her boyfriend of eight months breaks up with her, and her whole life goes down the drain. When will it all stop?

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2. The Beginning.

When I was alive, I was popular; people used to know who I was, understand me, and, most of all, they used to like me. I had a boyfriend, I was deputy head girl... Ah, those were the times. 

When I was a person on the messed up world we called home, I was a girl, obviously. My full name was Hannah Rose Eva Brown. I was 5 foot 4 and a half, I detested high heels and I enjoyed playing the bass guitar and talking to my cat. My parents had been married for almost twenty years, and at the time when it all started, they were going through what most people would have called a 'rough patch'. To me, though, it seemed like the end of the world. I had obviously not seen much of what people could do and what could happen. I didn't mind my black hair or my blue eyes, but braces were never my sort of thing. 

My boyfriend's name was Rob. I met him in Year 8; he was the new boy, a magnet to the students at our school. He intrigued me, what with his seemingly split personality. He was tall, with brown hair and hazel eyes. I loved his arms. They wrapped around me so tightly, they made me feel safe and loved. His voice was deep and reassuring, and he could sing so well. I knew that he secretly wanted to learn how to play the guitar, too, although he would have never admitted it, Rob loved rock music, although he never showed it around his friends. I never understood why, until now. He was embarrassed, so he pretended to like chart music, unlike his girlfriend. 

My best friend was called Sophie. She had long, dark blonde hair and green eyes, and she was quite short. I liked how her hair was cut, so that it flowed around her face like a frame, before almost reaching her waist in messy-cut layers pushed up and held there by masses of hairspray. She adored music, and wasn't afraid to show it. Soph was always loud, unlike me, but she always made me laugh, because jokes were never a shortage when I was with her. The only problem was that she didn't see me as a best friend. I hadn't noticed it, but she had taken advantage of how nice a person I was, and used it to get what she wanted. She 'borrowed' money from me, I was stood up when we had arranged to go out shopping. I accepted it, though. It was the kind of person I was.

 

Rob broke up with me 13 days into our eighth month. I knew that we were sort of drifting away from each other, but I hadn't been expecting him to break up. I was out with my parents at the time, listening to them argue under their breath, thinking that I couldn't hear them. 

'You don't understand, Jean. That business trip really was a business trip. There is no other woman, you're the only one!'

'I don't want to hear it, Thomas. Not right now. I want to forget it, but you keep bringing it up!'

'What are you talking about? You were the one who brought it up..'

'No, I wasn't. You were.' 

I sighed and buried my headphones deep in my ears, putting my iPod on shuffle. The songs went past as quickly as the scenery outside of the window, green and grey and blue blurs of bushes, buildings and sky. Bands that helped me forget things. Foo Fighters. All Time Low. You Me At Six. Song after song after song, with me mouthing the lyrics and signing the guitar chords as if I were a superstar on stage. 

That was when I felt my phone vibrate in my lap. I didn't feel it at first, but the alert light caught my eye as it flashed red, and I unlocked the phone to see Rob's name and photo beside the new message icon. I smiled as I looked at the picture of us two. It had been a windy day, my eyes were half closed and I wasn't wearing any make up, but he was smiling and hugging me. I opened the message, and as soon as I read it, I dropped the phone in my lap and closed my eyes. The words flashed across the insides of my eyelids again and again.

It's not working out. I'm sorry.  It's not working out. I'm sorry.  It's not working out. I'm sorry.  It's not working out. I'm sorry.  It's not working out. I'm sorry.  It's not working out. I'm sorry.  It's not working out. I'm sorry.  It's not working out. I'm sorry.  It's not working out. I'm sorry.  It's not working out. I'm sorry.  It's not working out. I'm sorry.  

My fists were clenched, and the crescent shapes made in my palms by my nails were all I could do to not cry. I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear forever.  And this was just the beginning. 

 

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