13 Reasons to Stay

Hey, its Hannah... and this is the story of my life, well, how I couldn't even end it...

When Hannah Baker attempts to take her own life, she survives. Her tapes have still been recorded and in the hands of someone else and worst of all, eyes are all on her, judging...

~This is based on the TV series, enjoy!

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2. More thoughts

 It's been a couple hours, thought it's felt like days. Dad is here now, constantly looking over at me to check on me as he's been talking to the doctors. Saying that Mom has been worse by far, guessing this is what she was like with me when I was a baby. Cooing at my every moment and jumping to my every want and need, I imagine this is what casual imprisonment would be like. I can fill my body slowly gaining strength, the blood leaking into my system, the blood-bag occasionally swaying if I pulled at it when I moved. I'm now sitting up, my legs crossed, nothing to do except think and look. My fingertips tracing along the bumps and curves of the skin which were now hidden under bandages. My curiosity is getting the best of me, wanting to unwrap the white cloth to simply look. Maybe I could when no one is looking, even could scratch at them to pierce the skin once again.

 

My parents were still talking to the doctors, can't exactly eavesdrop, practically tethered to this god damn blood-bag. I don't know what to do with myself, then again, that's not exactly anything out of the ordinary. How long have I even been here? I have no idea, it must be a couple days at least, I wonder if the school knows anything about this, or anyone at school. They'd cheer to the idea of my demise, most of them at least... I keep thinking myself thinking about why I'm here, mind keeps drifting there, to those horrid nights. Yet I don't feel sad or angry, I feel nothing, like I'm floating like a ghost. I feel dead. So I guess I did achieve what I wanted. But for now, all I can do is sit here, or lie here, or stand in these four walls. I could count the bleeps of the machines, or the flickers of the screen monitors or the layers of bandages. I keep going back and forth with these ideas, what else am I supposed to do? I can't talk to Mum or Dad, I'm currently a weak and fragile child, I want to shriek as long as my lungs could. But I can't. I can't do anything. I can't think of anything I want to do anyway, though, saying that, I could talk to one person right now. 

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