Jay Asher - Thirteen Reasons Why

“Where you going?” he asked.

How many times had I seen him, with any of his girlfriends, grabbing their wrists and twisting? Treating them like meat.

And that was in public.

My body, my shoulders, everything was set to keep walking by the house. And I should have kept walking. But my face turned toward him. There was steam rising up from his side of the fence.

“Come on, join us,” he said. “We’re sobering up.”

And whose head should pop up beside his? Miss Courtney Crimsen’s.

Now there was a coincidence. She’s the one who used me as a chauffer to attend a party. And there I was, crashing her after-party.

She’s the one who left me stranded with no one to talk to. And there I was, at her house, where she had nowhere to hide.

That’s not why you did it, Hannah. That’s not why you joined them. You knew it was the worst choice possible. You knew that.

But who am I to hold a grudge?

That’s why you did it. You wanted your world to collapse around you. You wanted everything to get as dark as possible. And Bryce, you knew, could help you do that.

He said you were all just relaxing a bit. Then you, Courtney, offered to give me a ride home when we were done, not realizing “home” was only two houses away. And you sounded so genuine, which surprised me.

It even made me feel a little guilty.

I was willing to forgive you, Courtney. I do forgive you. In fact, I forgive almost all of you. But you still need to hear me out. You still need to know.

I walked across the wet grass and pulled a latch on the fence, popping the gate open a few inches. And behind it, the source of the steam…a redwood hot tub.

The jets weren’t on, so the only sound was the water lapping against the sides. Against the two of you.

Your heads were back, resting on the edge of the hot tub. Your eyes were shut. And the little smiles on your faces made the water and steam look so inviting.

Courtney rolled her head my way but kept her eyes shut. “We’re in our underwear,” she said.

I waited a second. Should I?

No…but I will.

You knew what you were getting into, Hannah.

I took off my top, pulled off my shoes, took off my pants, and climbed the wooden steps. And then? I descended into the water.

It felt so relaxing. So comforting.

I cupped the hot water in my hands and let it drip over my face. I pushed it back through my hair. I forced my eyes to shut, my body to slide down, and my head to rest against the ledge.

But with the calming water also came terror. I should not be here. I didn’t trust Courtney. I didn’t trust Bryce. No matter what their original intentions, I knew them each well enough not to trust them for long.

And I was right not to trust them…but I was done. I was through fighting. I opened my eyes and looked up at the night sky. Through the steam, the whole world seemed like a dream.

I narrow my eyes as I walk, wanting to shut them completely.

Before long, the water became uncomfortable. Too hot.

When I open my eyes, I want to be standing in front of the park. I don’t want to see any more of the streets I walked, and the streets Hannah walked, the night of the party.

But when I pushed my back against the tub and sat up to cool my upper body, I could see my breasts through my wet bra.

So I slid back down.

And Bryce slid over…slowly…across the underwater bench. And his shoulder rested against mine.

Courtney opened her eyes, looked at us, then shut them again.

I swing a fist to the side and rattle a rusted chain-link fence. I shut my eyes and drag my fingers across the metal.

Bryce’s words were soft, an obvious attempt at romance. “Hannah Baker,” he said.

Everyone knows who you are, Bryce. Everyone knows what you do. But I, for the record, did nothing to stop you.

You asked if I had fun at the party. Courtney whispered that I wasn’t at the party, but you didn’t seem to care. Instead, your fingertips touched the outside of my thigh.

I open my eyes and pound the fence again.

I clenched my jaw and your fingers moved away.

“It broke up pretty fast,” you said. And just as fast, your fingertips were back.

I hold tight to the fence and keep walking forward. When my fingers pull away from the metal, my skin slices open.

Your whole hand was back. And when I didn’t stop you, you slid your hand across my belly. Your thumb touched the bottom of my bra and your pinky touched the top of my underwear.

I turned my head sideways, away from you. And I know I didn’t smile.

You pulled your fingers together and rubbed slow, full circles around my stomach. “Feels nice,” you said.

I felt a shift in the water and opened my eyes for one brief second.

Courtney was walking away.

Do you need more reasons for everyone to hate you, Courtney?

“Remember when you were a freshman?” you asked.

Your fingers made their way under my bra. But you didn’t grab me. Testing the boundaries, I guess. Sliding your thumb along the underside of my breasts.

“Weren’t you on that list?” you said. “Best ass in the freshman class.”

Bryce, you had to see my jaw clench. You had to see my tears. Does that kind of shit turn you on?

Bryce? Yes. It does.

“It’s true,” you said.

And then, just like that, I let go. My shoulders went limp. My legs fell apart. I knew exactly what I was doing.

Not once had I given in to the reputation you’d all set for me. Not once. Even though sometimes it was hard. Even though, sometimes, I found myself attracted to someone who only wanted to get with me because of what they’d heard. But I always said no to those people. Always!

Until Bryce.

So congratulations, Bryce. You’re the one. I let my reputation catch up with me-I let my reputation become me-with you. How does it feel?

Wait, don’t answer that. Let me say this first: I was not attracted to you, Bryce. Ever. In fact, you disgusted me.

And I’m going to kick your ass. I swear it.

You were touching me…but I was using you. I needed you, so I could let go of me, completely.

For everyone listening, let me be clear. I did not say no or push his hand away. All I did was turn my head, clench my teeth, and fight back tears. And he saw that. He even told me to relax.

“Just relax,” he said. “Everything will be okay.” As if letting him finger me was going to cure all my problems.

But in the end, I never told you to get away…and you didn’t.

You stopped rubbing circles on my stomach. Instead, you rubbed back and forth, gently, along my waist. Your pinky made its way under the top of my panties and rolled back and forth, from hip to hip. Then another finger slipped below, pushing your pinky further down, brushing it through my hair.

And that’s all you needed, Bryce. You started kissing my shoulder, my neck, sliding your fingers in and out. And then you kept going. You didn’t stop there.

I’m sorry. Is this getting too graphic for some of you? Too bad.

When you were done, Bryce, I got out of the hot tub and walked two houses away. The night was over.

I was done.

I tighten my fist and lift it in front of my face. Through my teary eyes, I watch the blood squeeze through my fingers. The skin is cut deep in a few places, torn by the rusted fence.

No matter where Hannah wants me to go next, I know where I’m spending the rest of my night. But first, I need to clean my hand. The cuts sting, but I mostly feel weak from the sight of my own blood.

I head for the nearest gas station. It’s a couple of blocks down and not too far out of my way. I flick my hand a few times, dripping dark spots of blood onto the sidewalk.

When I reach the station, I tuck my hurt hand into my pocket and pull open the glass door of the mini-mart. I find a clear bottle of rubbing alcohol and a small box of Band-Aids, drop a few bucks on the counter, and ask for a key to the restroom.