The perfect storm in a quiet room

Chapter 33

CASY

 What am I doing here? 

I'm not supposed to be here. I'm supposed to be at home, doing nothing, waiting for my aunt to come back from work. Instead, I'm here, right in front of Hannah's house, hoping I can talk to her and... be friends again? Yeah, I know, I sound like an idiot, but I need to try at least. I know when she sees me, she will listen to me. What if she doesn't, though? What if she just slams the door in front of my face and asks me to stay away from her, just like I did? No, no, no, no, no. She won't do that. She's Hannah—the cutest and sweetest girl I've ever met. She'll hear me out, I'm sure. 

I gently knock on the door three times, unsure of how she might react when she sees me. I wait nervously for her to open the door. 

"Who are you?" a woman I've never seen before opens the door and asks me. She seems irritated.

"Em..." This caught me off guard. I wasn't ready to talk to someone else other than Hannah. I thought Hannah was going to be the one opening the door, but who's this woman? I'm sure I've never seen her before. Oh. Wait... Is she Hannah's mom? I mean, she looks nothing like her. She has brown hair, brown eyes and her skin tone is darker than Hannah's, so she can't be her mom. But, then, who the fuck is she? 

"I'm sorry, I'm Casy. I was looking for Hannah, but if she's not here..." I awkwardly say. I don't know what to say to her, since I don't even know her. And by looking at the expression on her face, I can say she doesn't seem to be a very nice woman. 

"Who? Casy? What kind of name is that?" she drily remarks that little detail. 

Okay, I'm starting to not like this woman. Who the fuck does she think she is? 

"Excuse me? You've never heard the name 'Casy'? For your information, it is short for Castille, not that that's any of your business, anyway." I brusquely reply. She better watch how she speaks to me next time. 

She gives me a menacing glare and I hope she doesn't do anything she'll regret—for her own sake, not mine. 

"Yeah, sorry," she says, not meaning it, but still. "So, who are you? And why are you looking for Hannah?" she curiously asks. 

This woman asks too many questions. Just tell me where the fuck Hannah is. 

"I'm... a friend of hers, from school. I'm looking for her because I need her help with something," I reply nervously. 

She scans me for a moment. Looking up and down, ranking my body.

What is she looking at? God, this woman creeps me out. 

"Okay. Hannah's not here. You can wait for her inside, while I call her and tell her you're here." She coldly says. 

I enter the house and she closes the door behind me. I know I've been here just a few weeks ago, but it seems like ages... Everything in this house feels so different. I feel like I've never been here, actually. I don't know, I may sound crazy, but it is a pretty weird feeling to describe. 

"Have a seat, If you want," she politely suggests and the way she said that makes me think this is not the same woman I've started talking to. 

I sit and give her a weak smile. I stare at her and open my mouth to ask her the following question: 

"Who are you?" 

I know she's not Hannah's mom—that's impossible, so I need to know who the fuck she is. 

She looks up at me sharply. She's clearly surprised by my question and I can't blame her. I mean, I know it's a bit rude to ask that since we are in her house, but still, I need to know... 

"I'm Hannah's mother," she calmly replies. 

Okay, so... what the actual fuck?

Hannah's mother? I mean... really? That's her mom? Okay, now I'm shocked. I didn't expect that. They look way too different to be mother and daughter. Or maybe she's lying to me? Hm, I don't think so. Anyway, I have more important things to think about rather than Hannah's so-called mother. 

"Hannah..." the other woman in the room softly says. 

"Sorry to bother you, but one of your friends, I think, is here," this woman adds. 

I think? She doesn't believe I'm Hannah's friend? What's her fucking problem? Hannah wasn't lying when she told me her mother was 'special'. However, I would use the adjective 'fucking stupid bitch', but that's just how I see it. 

"What did she say?" I ask after some minutes of silence. 

"I don't know... she hung up on me as soon as I told her you were here" she answers and I can notice she's a bit confused, and so do I. 

Wow... she hung up? Like... she doesn't even want to hear my name? I didn't see this coming. 

Why did she do that? Does she hate me that much? I'm surprised, I must say. I came here hoping she will talk to me and we will work things out and finally be friends... I guess I was wrong. 

"Well, I should probably get going, then. Thanks, anyway" I softly say with a polite smile. 

"No problem," she crossly says and now I can tell she's back to being the total bitch she was when she opened the door. 

I head to the door and when I open it, surprisingly, I see the only face I wanted and needed to see. 

Her beautiful light-blue eyes meet mine and I immediately feel something in my chest. It feels so foreign having her in front of me. It feels as if we were separated for more than two weeks. 

I feel the urge to hug her and tell her I was stupid for saying all that shit and that she was right—I'm mysterious, complicated and I didn't have the right to drag her into all of this mess. 

I scan her face for a few seconds and I notice she's irritated, mad even. Is she mad at me? Well, I'd be mad at me if I were her. Again, why did I say all that shit to her? 

"What are you doing here?" she icily asks and my heart sinks.