Deck of Cards

Day 34- Hannah

Nine of Clubs- slave for a day for 9 hrs

Hannah's POV

It wasn't really my home; the clinical cleanliness that spread through the house made me feel uneasy. Somehow I wanted to just run away from it all, it was a constant reminder of the past. Why I had left in the first place.

A place where you don't fit isn't really ever a place that you can feel comfortable in despite how hard you try. I woke up groggy from a short night's sleep, I told my mother that it was just adjusting but really the smell from the pillow burned through my nostrils and made me woozy. Lavender detergent wasn't a good combination with my state.

Slipping on a pair of old jeans and a baggy T-Shirt, I considered escaping out of the window but I decided that the risk was too much. There were obviously people hunting us down despite the impressive number of people that the police had caught. A few nights in a toxic household was better than being in the fatal game.

Walking down the carpeted, clean stairs I couldn't help but feel like I was dreaming. Every time I blinked I expected to see the grimy walls of the cell or the grim faces of the devils that worked for the boss.

Smelling bacon on the stove, I ran down the last few steps until I felt my socks slide on the polished tiles. Grabbing onto the table to steady myself I sheepishly giggled and sat down to face two shocked parents staring back at me. At first I had no idea what they were staring at so I  instinctively I gave them a mean glare which was quick to vanquish when I saw how worried they were.

"Honey, are you alright?" My mother asked in a hushed voice, like it was some secret that I had been through a lot in the past month.

"Yeah mum I'm fine," I grumbled- she was bringing back oppressed memories already.

"Sweetie, I know that your putting on a brave face but just know that you can be sad around us," she said touching my arm which I shuddered away from.

"Mum I'm not sad," I moaned before standing up and walking away. It was true, I wasn't sad in the slightest, instead I was filled with anger. I was too tough to be sad, I was angry with what they had done. But underneath the anger was acceptance; it had happened and I couldn't change that but only grow stronger from it. But wounds couldn't heal if they were constantly being picked at.

"Sweetie..." I heard my mum shout at me before I slammed the door to my 'room'. It had been redecorated into a guest room which was frilly and girly which of course was the opposite of me. It was like they wanted to remove any existence of me and then regretted it when they had to become 'real parents' and talk to the cameras and flashing lights about how much they missed me.

Pulling out my laptop that they had given me back after so many months, I opened up an internet browser. Typing in my name, I waited as it loaded the search results.

The first thing that popped up was a news article with pictures of us going into the interviewing building with weary faces. The headline was something cheesy and thrown together and all together the article was poorly misinformed. Afterwards, I went straight to the videos and the first was one of my parents.

When I clicked on it I shook my head in disappointment as they cried fake tears, pretending that they missed my imaginary presence in their house. My mother shook as my dad pleaded to the country to look for me and the other girls. Closing it down, I couldn't watch it anymore and listen to their lies, their false words. Never had they ever cared about me or even remotely wanted to be a part of my life.

Killing time, I stared at the walls and thought about life- a technique I had used in the game to pass time. But in the strange atmosphere I couldn't think straight or clearly. A knock at the door brought me back to my senses and I didn't reply hoping that the person would go away. They didn't.

My mother walked in with a tray in hand, wearing a plastic smile that could have been molded from putty.

"How are you?" she asked in a sugar coated voice that made me sick just hearing it.

"Fine," I replied curtly and continued to look at the wall despite the fact that I couldn't relax or concentrate with her in the room.

"Hannah.." she tried to speak her fake words but I stopped her.

"Mum, I have been through hell and back. I have been whipped, raped, tortured, verbally abused, physically abused, isolated, controlled, manipulated and so much more that has messed me up. You will never know what that is like, you will never know how that messes you up. But do you know what has messed me up the most? You! You and dad. You can't just be the good parent now," I shouted at her and I turned around again with tears in my eyes. It hurt to admit it. It hurt to release those thoughts that had been brimming inside me for the majority of my life.

With a choked sob she left my room, closing the door softly and left me alone like I wanted to be. A part of me was glad, it meant that we were both on the same page. We wouldn't be fake just because she felt obliged to be a parent suddenly. I wouldn't pretend to need their help just because they wanted to seem like they knew how to parent and be good people.

Holding my phone close to my ear, I dialled one of the numbers on a sheet of paper I held in my hand; the girls and I exchanged numbers before we departed in case we needed someone to talk to.

"Ava," I croaked through the line and I heard her gasp.

"Hannah what's wrong?"

"I feel so alone," I admitted as I let the tears fall freely. Despite my aversion to her before, Ava was the only girl who I felt could help me.

"Hannah, we'll see you soon. I got a call from the police a few minutes ago- they have some stuff to show us apparently. Then there's the court trial and the interviews. We can see you so much," she started going on but I couldn't help but think about the long future. What would I do then?

"Where are you Ava?" I asked trying to push the negative thoughts away.

"Still at the station with Jen, her mum did a runner with her baby boy. There trying to track them down," Ava said in a glum voice and I couldn't help but feel an ache in my chest for Jen. We had all experienced how torn she felt when she was away from her boy and how that had motivated her. To have that stripped away must have been hard.

"See you soon," I mumbled before ending the call sadly. Curling up in a ball I waited till sleep took over me, I didn't want to dream. I didn't want to do anything but lie there feeling numb.