Pitter patter, pitter patter...
My mind was blank as I listened to the sound of my fingers tap against the cold table and yet so many things were running through my head.
I couldn't catch myself in one singular thought.
Everything was crashing down around my brain and swallowing my thought process, while I was trying to put my finger on just what was going on in my head.
I didn't really understand what was sitting in front of my eyes. The shoe box smeared with paint and patterns I found quite eye catching.
The rough lines through the design showed how raw and self-made the art was.
I knew it was hers the second I had looked at it and also due to the fact that I've watched her paint and doodle away a million times before.
As artistic as she was, she could be repetitive as well.
I don't know why she had given me this and had deemed it so important that I read the letter inside before going on to explore anything else nestled neatly in the box in front of me.
She had called me up this morning before my alarm even went off for school.
I remember opening my eyes and seeing her name pop up on my phone as the light shouted in my face for me to wake up. I had 4 missed calls and counting when it had finally managed to wake me.
4 missed calls from Hannah
I remember dialing her back and she was so eager to share with me whatever was so important and tucked away in this box.
She was frazzled and babbling about how I needed to get myself up and out of bed and to the Crestmont as fast as my legs could carry me, or more appropriately, peddle me there.
I found myself sitting in our favorite lunch spot; two raggedy movie theatre chairs with one cup holder, for some odd reason,
that we would fight over every other day deciding whose drink would get the honor of resting in its place.
I remember looking over her face and trying to read her expression but it was almost like there was nothing there and weirdly enough, that made me uneasy.
I think this feeling washed over me in a sense that, this wasn't normal for me.
I had never looked at her face before and not found something talking to me from within her eyes, or creeping along the corners of her lips, or even furrowed beneath her arched brow.
There was always an emotion inches from the surface when I looked at Hannah's face, but today there was a wall built firmly above anything resembling even close to an emotion.
I couldn't read her and I didn't quite know if I wanted to today.
"He wasn't supposed to do that. I don't know why I feel this way, but I really feel like he wasn't supposed to do that.
It was supposed to be easy and it was supposed to go a lot differently than this.
I don't really know where I'm going from here, because as of yesterday morning I didn't even think I would be sitting here at all,
" Her breathing deepened as she sighed heavily in my direction before meeting my eyes in a gaze. To say that I was confused was an understatement.
I had no idea what I was supposed to say and Hannah knew I was never good at this whole decoding thing when it came to the intricate poems that we called her words.
She was always so in depth and she could easily be explaining something to you, but in the most intense way possible, so intense you aren't even quite sure what she's trying to say.
For the most part, whenever she spoke this way it was never when she was trying to give good news necessarily and that always frightened me.
You never knew what was coming because her words were so beautiful and so confusing, but you would always know it was bad.
"Hannah.. what are you talking about?" My eyes locked with hers so intensely that I felt the breath escape my lungs and for a moment I couldn't quite catch up with my words.
"Porter.. he.. he actually went after me. I went to him and told myself I would give it one more try before I did anything in final decision and now..
now I'm just confused on what I'm supposed to do next. Here I am holding a shoe box with 6 double sided tapes explaining on each side one reason why I ended my life.
" And now I really felt like I couldn't breathe and every imaginary wall around me was closing in on me until I was so small it started to hurt.
My heart sank and the pain etched across my face was evident.
"Hannah, what the fuck are you talking about!? I'm confused and now I'm worried! Explain, right now.
" I pursed my lips at her, letting her know I needed an explanation for whatever was going on and for why she supposedly was planning her own death.
"Here, Helmet. Everything you need to know is on these tapes, but rest assured these were meant to be given out in order to each individual on these tapes and yes, you are one of them.
" For some god awful reason, that pained me to hear. I felt unsteady and cautious when I noticed how neutral her gaze was. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?
"Is that... bad?" I gulped as I choked out the question, almost as if I didn't want an answer, but we both knew I did.
"I can't tell you that, Helmet. You've gotta find that one out for yourself. First things first, I've left you a letter to read before you dive into those tapes.
I also left a walkman in there for you, too. I also needed to do some last minute editing which is why you'll see the last tape has one side and is labeled in different coloring.
I recorded that one after I left Mr.Porter's office yesterday and went home. I didn't think I'd end up where I did, but this is where I am...
and you're the only one I trust now, even after everything." I was tense hearing her mention our last encounter, which is why I was even more frightened to see her this morning.
I wasn't sure if the conversation would be a good one and it's safe to say it wasn't, but in a much worse way than I would have imagined.
The conversation was so fresh in my mind and I found myself nervously wondering where she was right now and what she was doing at this very moment.
She had ran off so quickly, shouting to me that she would wait for my phone call later after I listened to all the tapes and here I was, hours later and back home from school,
staring down this shoe box hesitantly.
I think what petrified me even more than knowing she quite possibly could have been dead right now, was knowing my name is on these tapes and I was possibly one of the reasons for it.
My stomach churned at the thought and I shot myself forward in my seat, yanking the lid of the shoe box off. Neatly in a stack, the tapes lined up together perfectly.
There were beautifully traced flowers on each one, adorned by a number written in royal blue nail polish.
Propped against the set of tapes was a folded up piece of paper signed with her name atop the final fold.
Well, here's goes nothing...